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Archivist's Note: Ellipsis Flood wrote this story as part of Astral Void's Halloween Co-Write in 2011. It features Agent Saline telling a story from her home canon, an original setting of EF's creation. The story was originally posted to EF's website, but was not automatically saved by archive sites like the rest of her stories were.

The Protectors of the Plot Continuum was created by Jay and Acacia, and is written in with permission. This story is rated G—maybe PG, if the reader is easily frightened.

"Don't Question the Fog"


Summary: Saline tells a story from her home continuum.
Beta: desdendelle

Saline took over the torch, smirking. "It took me a while to think of something fitting, but here we go."

"This is the story of... I don't recall the name... I'll call him Jack. Some say he was a researcher because he had a journal, but I think he was simply too curious for his own good.

Whatever his reasons were, he wound up in that village. Lyt Mytara, I think. But that doesn't matter either. What matters is that it's one of these villages shrouded in eternal fog. They hardly ever see the sun there. It's not what I'd call normal, but people don't ask. They don't question the fog. It's there. Just... there.

But Jack asked. He travelled to Lyt Mytara, one of the villages in the fog. He had expected it to be a ghost town or on its way to become one, but he was wrong. Life flourished, as much as it could flourish in such a small village. There was no mystical cult, no old-fashioned clothes, no reservedness. The people of Lyt Mytara welcomed him warmly.

Jack had gotten a room in the local inn. Nice and comfy, it was. Well, there was no net, no phone and no TV, but that was acceptable. It was a little village, after all.

Eventually, Jack started asking. About the village, its people and the fog. 'It's just fog,' they said. 'Nothing to worry about, aside from stumbling over something.' But Jack was suspicious.

The village was nice. No sudden disappearances, no talking behind his back. Nothing. It was just a nice little village. The only thing it lacked was the white fences in front of the houses. But that might just be Gybdorans not doing white fences.

Jack hadn't planned on staying as long as he did. He had expected to be driven out sooner or later, but nothing happened.

Jack was happy. He liked Lyt Mytara. He was still suspicious. Maybe the villagers would want to keep him. But he didn't really care because if that was what they had wanted, they could have gotten it. He was happy there. He didn't care that he had a job out there. He just wanted to stay.

As time passed, Jack seemed to forget why he had come to Lyt Mytara in the first place. He still lived in the inn, but that was more out of convenience. From time to time, he still asked the villagers about the fog. Did it ever disappear? Because even in a valley, there just had to be days where you could see the sky. 'It never does,' they said. 'Nothing to worry about, aside from stumbling over something.' And Jack believed them.

Jack didn't care about the outer world anymore. He was happy. He needed nothing. From time to time, one of the villagers would take a shuttle and pick up supplies. They always lasted for a while, but aside from that, nobody left. They didn't need to. Jack didn't need to.

Slowly, Jack began to notice it. I'm not sure what it is, it's never said... I'd say it's the fog. It influenced him, but not in a bad way. In all his years he had never felt such a happiness. He was just as happy as everyone else.

Nobody worshipped the fog, yet that was what it seemed like. It was there, accompanying the everyday life of the villagers. The sun never broke through the fog, leaving Lyt Mytara in a dim kind of twilight. It crept through the doors and windows, including itself in everybody's life, breaching boundaries no one else could and would dare. Yet, it was accepted, almost welcomed.

It had taken him a while, but eventually, Jack embraced the fog, just like everybody else.

The things I just told you were entries in Jack's journal. While they were rational and perfectly normal in the beginning, his writing soon turned erratic and hasty. The added sketches of places in the village became weirder and weirder. I told you his story up to the point where all that was left were illegible scribblings and abstract drawings of things you wouldn't want to encounter.

That journal was found in the shuttle of the guy who always picked up the supplies. He gave it away, not needing it. And, you know the world, a few days later the whole thing was on the net.

That was where I found it. There was no big story around it, no masses of memes... nothing. Nobody questioned the journal's genuineness, most commentators assumed it was. Yet, nobody asked about Jack. And you know why? Because you don't question the fog."

Saline nodded. "That's it for me. Who's next?" With a smile, she handed over the torch.
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