There Are Monsters in the Fog
A dense fog descended on the small train station that obscured anything beyond the end of the platform where the 3:50 am train would pull in for a 15-minute stop.
The waiting room is clean, well-lit, and warm. A young man sits in a corner with his feet on his duffle bag and his backpack in the seat next to him. He is intently studying maps making notations. An older man, casually dressed in jeans and a corduroy jacket over a plaid shirt leans back with his cowboy hat over his eyes.
An elderly woman is sitting on a front bench, her hands busy with knitting needles. She rarely looks at her hands as the needles fly; her eyes casually scan the room observing her fellow passengers waiting for the train. She puts her needles aside and goes to the courtesy counter for tea. She drops a couple of quarters in the cup, pulls a tea bag from the basket and fills her cup with hot water.
She turns when the station door opens to see a young woman standing limned against the fog. Some fog drifts in and swirls around her ankles as she hesitates.
“Well, come on in, sweetheart. There are monsters in the fog – don’t want to let them in!”
The young woman starts. She doesn’t seem to know which way to go and finally steps back to look down the platform trying to pierce the fog. She utters a faint whimper and then steps in and closes the door. The fog presses against the window. She has the look of a startled doe.
The older woman goes to the newcomer, takes her arm, and escorts her to a seat next to her knitting.
“Just joking about the monsters, dear. Don’t pay attention to a silly old woman with childish stories.”
She escorts the young woman to a seat and gently brushes a damp tress off of the young woman’s forehead.
“Now just sit here and I’ll get you nice cup of tea.”
She goes back to the courtesy counter and gets another cup of tea.
“Traveling far, dear?” She hands a cup of tea to the newcomer. The sleeping man doesn’t stir and the young hiker is busy studying his maps.
“Yes. As far as I can get.” The young dark-haired woman wraps her hands around the cup and smiles weakly.
“My name’s Alexandrie. Most folks call me Dree – not such a mouthful.”
“Dree. Thank you for the tea.”
Dree looks at the young woman with a gentle smile and raised eyebrows.
“Oh. I, uh, I’m Lulu.”
“Lovely to make your acquaintance, Lulu.”
“What are you making?” Lulu asks.
“I’m making an afghan, dear. Do you knit?”
“Oh, no. It seems so complicated,” Lulu says.
“I have an extra set of needles. I can teach you. Plenty of time on the train for you to learn the basics.”
“I – I’m not very good with my hands,” Lulu says.
“Oh, nonsense…”
The lights flicker.
Dree and Lulu look up.
There is the sound of drumming fingers on the window of the door.
“Oh, dear. It looks like the monsters have arrived,” Dree says not missing a stitch.
Dree’s words hang in the air of the silent waiting room.
The cowboy sits up and removes his hat. The young man looks over the top of his maps.
All eyes turn toward the door. The fog is thicker than ever and seems to swirl on the glass like an art project. The drumming stops.
Lulu gasped when a hand slams on the window and the drumming intensifies. A hulking shadow presses against the glass. She grasps Dree’s arm.
“Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuu lu.” The voice is lilting and hypnotic.
Lulu grasps Dree’s arm.
“Luuuuuuuu luuuuuuuuu, I’m coming for you.”
The lights flicker again just as the door rattles violently. Lulu is mesmerized by the shadow at the door.
Lulu realizes that she is no longer holding Dree’s arm. She stands looking frantically for her as she backs away from the door.
The door blows open and the shadow steps in amidst swirling fog. Slowly the man turns and softly closes the door. The man hums eerily as he turns to face the room. He has on tan slacks, a white turtle neck shirt, and a casual black blazer that almost makes him look like a priest.
His cold hazel eyes scan the room and then stop and focus intently on Lulu.
The cowboy takes a step toward the man. He stops when the man emits a soft growl, holds his arm straight out pointing a finger at the cowboy.
“Uh uh uh.” The finger wags.
“I’m not coming back, Ike,” Lulu says softly.
“Looks like my girl needs another lesson. I been too lax with you.” Ike makes a sad face.
The hiker pulls out his cell phone. With unnerving speed Ike is across the room. He swats the phone out of the man’s hand sending it flying across the room. The hiker is stunned and sits back down not taking his eyes off Ike. The cowboy backs away and head to the bathroom.
Ike turns toward Lulu. He smiles.
“See? They know you been a bad girl. Don’t make me mad now.” Ike walks toward Lulu. He stops short when Dree blocks his path.
“I don’t think you want to bother Lulu,” Dree says sweetly.
Ike snarls and raises his arm to back hand Dree.
“NO! Ike!” Lulu screams.
Ike shoves Dree and lurches for Lulu. He gets tangled up with Dree and falls on his face. Dree falls on his back. There is a grunt.
Dree and Lulu stood over the still twitching body. There is a knitting needle sticking out of the back of base of his skull.
“Dree?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I think maybe I do want to learn to knit after all.”