Fog is the embodiment of forgetfulness. It’s always looking for something that’s lost, don’t get recall the nature or shape of the thing, or whether it really existed at all. Fog slips. It falls over hills and rolls down sidewalks. It’s hanging in trees and misting the windows of parked cars. Fog is the tears of loss; the fever sweep of memory. But it wasn’t always this way.
Fog was once a black giant, as solid, strong and as dense as granite. In its arrogance, fog decided that it was more important to the world than the sun. it tried to block out its rays.
The sun blazed hot until fog skin turned to a grey-white ash. Knowing the fog was adult from the heat, the sun asked fog- what is your name? But fog couldn’t remember. It cursed the sun, though it was unsure why, and went to look for its name. In time, fog forgot even that much and simply looked for the sake of looking. The more fog forgot the less substantial it became until it lost its body altogether and almost vanished completely, existing only as a tenuous white vapor.
Today, we turn up the heat and drive fog away. But it lives in our dreams and the edges of our days, in those stray moments when we look up not sure where we are, not sure how we ended up in this place, living this life. Fog is what we look like without something to keep us solid: love, work, faith, desire. Fog is the god of lost souls, dead or alive.
Dispatches From Probability Beach is a series of reports by Richard Kadrey, all originating from that hard-to-find west coast community. … all » Probability Beach is an eccentric town, the home of ghosts and nanotech, stem cell research and weeping madonnas. Check out this and future Probability Beach dispatches to hear more about our interesting little town. We swear that every word in every dispatch is absolutely true.
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