The Man in the Fog

The fog rolled in thick that night, swallowing the street in a dense, ghostly haze. Olivia pulled her jacket tighter around herself as she hurried home from her late shift. The streetlights flickered, their glow barely piercing through the mist.

Then she saw him.

A figure stood motionless beneath the dim glow of a streetlamp ahead. His face was obscured, his posture too stiff. Olivia slowed.

Something felt… wrong.

She checked her phone. No signal. Typical.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, keeping her head down. But as she neared, the man moved.

Not a step forward. Not a shift in place.

He simply… glitched.

One second, he was beneath the streetlamp. The next, he was closer.

Too close.

Olivia’s breath hitched. She hadn’t seen him move—he just was.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. She forced herself to keep walking, not looking at him, not stopping. The cold mist curled around her ankles.

Then—

“Olivia.”

Her name. Spoken in a voice that didn’t belong to anyone she knew.

Her stomach twisted. She hadn’t told anyone she was leaving work. No one should have known she was here.

She ran.

Her apartment was three blocks away. Two now. She pushed forward, her breath ragged, her keys clutched tight in her palm.

Footsteps followed.

Not running. Not hurried. Just there. Matching her pace exactly.

She didn’t dare look back.

One block.

The footsteps grew louder. Closer.

She reached her building, fumbling with the lock. Her shaking hands finally turned the key, and she threw herself inside, slamming the door behind her.

Silence.

Her breaths came in sharp gasps.

Slowly, she peered through the peephole.

The fog was thicker now, swirling outside the door. The streetlamp flickered.

The man was gone.

After a long moment, Olivia exhaled. Maybe she had imagined it. Maybe she was just exhausted.

She turned away—

And froze.

The closet door at the end of the hallway was open.

It had been closed when she left.

A single footprint, wet and smeared, led from the doorway into the darkness inside.

Then—

A breath.

Right behind her.

She turned, heart hammering, but no one was there.

The lightbulb above her flickered. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A single notification.

A photo.

She stared.

It was of her.

Standing in the hallway.

Taken from inside the closet.

Trembling, she lifted her gaze.

The closet door was still open. The dark inside seemed deeper than it should be.

Then—

Something moved.

Not a shadow. Not a trick of the light.

Something was in there.

Waiting.

A whisper curled through the air, just behind her ear.

“You brought me home.”

The light flickered—

And the door slammed shut.