Mystery of the mist

Lem looked out over the city, the mists had started to decend, and they decended quickly, he stood stock still watching, the cool air began to make his skin tingle with cold, he felt the hairs on his arms stand up on end. The air became thicker and mistier, down below he watched as a few people scurried along the streets, he could feel thier panic as they scuffled in doors. Lem was not afraid of the mists. He had not dismissed it as an old wives tale, he had witnessed the horrors that dewlt within, and seen what they had done to people he knew. There was something more though, Lem didnt know what it was, but he felt that there was someting more to this, a higher power, he sensed it, he knew it from within. Lem closed his eyes and felt with his mind, willing it to locate whatever the horror in the center of this mist was, searching. He felt his senses sharpen and his ears pricked for every unexpected sound. He felt the air become thicker around him, and controlled his emotions, not giving into doubts or fear, listening hard he could almost hear screams from far off, he concentrated everything on this voice, cries, screams, but what was it saying.

‘Inside, I’m inside’

Inside where? inside what? The voice was far off, and yet he felt like it was so close

‘Inside, get inside’ there was a crash and Lem’s eyes flew open, peering down through the mist he saw a woman at a door far below, she called frantially to a small child ‘Al, get inside now’ she was becoming hysterical, too fearful to venture outside, but watching as her young Son wondered innocently into the darkness in front of her ‘Al!’ she screamed ‘Al’ she screamed again, but the boy kept wondering further and further, the mother let out a scream that pierced through your heart like only the noise of a distressed mother can ‘Help, please help… Al’. Lem took a deep breath and then hurled himself off the edge of the building, twisting and grabbing onto the edge, he scurried down the side, feeling the foot holes and hand grips come to him as he required them. When he was close enough he dropped to the ground, landing with as much grace and balance as he could. The mist was so much thicker here, his hearing was deadened, and he found he couldnt see the child who he knew could only be yards away from him. He paused, closing his eyes again and listening for any movement and just feeling out for a human precence. He could almost smell the fear of Al’s mother. A small cry, almost a wimper, Lem moved, quick as lightening in the direction of the noise, knowing, believing that it may not be Al, it may be a trap. His feet caught on the ground and almost sent him tumbling, but he stayed on his feet. ‘Al?’ he called, he heard the wimper again, he spun around and saw the faded outline of a small child. As Al saw Lem he let out a heart wrenching scream of fear. Lem started towards him and scooped him up into his arms. Al fighting all the way, Lem then calmly as could, focusing his mind on keeping his senses free of fear and sharp in the mist, walked to the side of the road, and with one arm restraining Al, the other he held out and used to guid his way along the houses. Slowly and steadily he made his way along the road, he closed his eyes to concentrate his senses in his hearing, listening hard for Al’s mother, hoping against hope that she had not ventured into the road herself to find Al. Then came a whisper

‘Missed… this time… a child would have been nice too.’

Al immediatly stopped fighting Lem, and became stock still in his arms. Lem stopped, listening hard, not from fear but to locate the source. This was the closest he’d been to the mystery of the mists, he’d heard tales of voices but not believed them. He opened his eyes but quickly shut them again as he could barely see beyond his own nose, his sight was useless here and only a distraction. The child’s heart was beating so loud in the deafening silence that his strained hearing was barely useful either.

‘Who are you?’ Lem called, silence was the only response, and then if Lem thought that Al had screamed before, it was nothing compared to the noise that he let rip now. In response, Lem sprinted up the street until he collided with Al’s mother, one foot still on the threshold of her house, her voice hoarse from shouting. Lem and Al went crashing to the ground ontop of Al’s mother Lem scrambled quickly to his feet, scooping up Al again and pulling his mother to her feet. Stunned and confussed she lashed out, but Lem battered her hand away deftly and gently, then grabbed her around the waist and hauled both mother and child into the house. Releasing Al, he ran to the opposite side of the room and hid behind an arm chair. Al’s mother swung for Lem, who again deflected her gently. She backed away, terrified. He wheeled around to the window and stood with his back to the wall next to it, straining to hear any sound from outside the dwelling.

‘Im not from the mist’ he said ‘your safe.’’

‘Who are you?’ Al’s mother managed

‘No one important, I am not from the mist.’ This didn’t result in calmness and Lem realised he would not be gaining any further information about the mists whilst he was with a hysterical mother and a sobbing child. He opened his eyes and approached her. She backed away with fear, searching with her hands for anything to weaponise herself, she grabbed a vase from a small table, Lem swiftly lept across the room, scooped it out of her shaking hands and replaced it on the table, catching her raised arms as she made to swing for him, he repeated

‘I’m not from the mists, your safe, you can feel me, I’m solid’ his grip on her arm, gentle but firm seemed to calm her down. She walked swiftly to Al and started to examine him, Al was now crying and reaching for his mothers face. ‘what is your name’ Lem asked peering out of the curtains to the street again

‘Emmeline’ she answered

‘Your boy is fine’

Emmeline turned and glared at him.

‘You have not answered my question, who are you?’

‘You can call me Lem’

‘And how is it that you come to be in my street in the middle of the mists, rescuing my boy?’

‘I trust you are not disappointed in my actions’

‘And I trust that whilst you are in my home you will not open the window when the mists are swirling outside’. Emmeline got up and strode over to where Lem was and wrenched the curtains out of his hand and dropped them to block out the outside world.

‘I was up on the roof tops, after conducting some shady deals with a thief, in a nearby alley, I saw the mist descend and I heard your cries, from up there I could see Al wondering child like into the mists and putting himself in danger. I surmmised that your fear was keeping you from running after him, so I intervened.’

‘Just like that… you interviened.’

‘Yes, if you would like me to reverse my actions, I can always take Al on my walk home and loose him somewhere in the mist’ Lem gestureed to the door way. Emmeline paused, fear was filling her again. Doubt coursed through her mind and she stepped in front of her son.

‘ if you were conducting dealings with a thief why would you tell me, your lying’

‘Because as you’ve just proved you wouldn’t believe me if I told you’

Emmeline paused, did she want to know the answers to her questions about this stranger?

‘Im sorry’ she said ‘i do not understand the stranger that would… interviene… for an unknown woman and her small child. I thought you were something more… sinister.’

‘I heard them’ both Lem and Emmeline turned and saw Al peering out from behind his chair. ‘They said they wanted a child’

‘You heard that?’ said Lem

‘Theres nothing there Al, mists are dangerous, but they can make you disorinetated and believe that you hear things. I think its high time for your bed.’ Turning to Lem she said, quite sharply but firmly. ‘Ill be back once I have put my son to bed, there is tea in the back room, I imagine you will need some to warm up whilst you wait out the mists.’ And with that she turned on her heel, scooped Al up and trotted up the small rickety stairs with him. Lem heard Al say in a small voice

‘I did hear something’ as he disappeared into the 1stfloor. Lem wandered into the back room, not because he wanted tea, but because he had felt strangely instructed by this woman and felt he should do as she suggested out of politeness. He found the stove, which was heating the tiny house, and filled the kettle with water before placing it ontop. He peered again out of another window and saw that the mist was so thick he certainly would not be able to find his way home, however good at navigating he was. The thought crossed his mind to scale the house to see if the mist was thiner up there, however he was intrigued by the boy, so was not opposed to waiting out the mists until morning. He could hear muffled voices of Al and Emmeline upstairs, and listened as thier tones became lower and gentler. In Lems chest a small pang of longing, long surpressed and unwanted, twinged as he allowed his mind to consider how this mother was so focused on protecting and loving her child. Lem dismissed the feeling and turned his attention to the kettle, which had begun to whistle. He removed it from the heat as Emmeline emerged into the kitchen. Lem had not realised untl she lit the candles that he had been boiling the kettle in the dark. Bustling over she moved the kettle onto a trivet and busteled about with mugs and tea leaves. A few minutes later he had a steaming mug of tea in his hand and was ushered into one of the wooden kitchen chairs.

‘You’ll stay until morning’ she said.

‘Thank you, that is very kind’ responded Lem, as he looked up from his tea at her, he saw that her face was still laced with fear, and that it had not been an offer, but a request.

‘I share a room with Al upstairs, we have only one bedroom, otherwise I would off you the bed.’

‘You have a chair in the front room, this will do fine for me.’

‘I will get you a blanket, I have two upstairs’

‘And you have two people upstairs, my cloak will do, I have slept in far worse places, under far worse circumstances. Please no fuss.’

‘You saved my Son’s life, my father would be ashamed if all I offered was a night in a cold room, with no blanket.’

‘Your father would be furious if he knew that a man had taken away his daughters warmth for the sake of his own. My cloak will be more than sufficient.’ Emmeline smiled,

‘you are a kind and noble man. I would apologise for the way I have treated you this evning, but I get the feeling that I have not come close to offending you.’ Emmeline hung her head slightly, on the pretnese of examining the dregs in the bottom of her mug. Lem noticed for the first time that evening, that there was a beuaty about her, he had missed this in the face of her ferocious fire. He noticed her deep amber eyes, the way her hair curled down her back, her slender wrists and narrow waist.

‘Indeed Emmeline, I have been far from offended, I have been intrigued by your roar, Lioness, and I fear for any man who would dare step in your path.’ On saying this he smiled slightly at her then continued ‘I thankfully am not that man. If you exscuse me though, I have an appointment at dawn with a man who thinks I might kill him. If you do not mind, I believe I may still get a few hours sleep if I get my head down now.’ Emmeline, stood up

‘Of course, and thank you for my Son’ Emmeline nodded to Lem and turned and left to return upstairs to Al. As she left she wondered at how this man spoke, calling her Lioness. She though about the hard face, damaged, but not un-handsome. The verticals scar across his left eye added to his intrigue, and the frown lines spoke of a life that she had not yet listened too. Powerful in stature and precence. She must put him out of her mind though, a stranger who had helped her, a storey for her friends. Smilling to herself she allowed herself to let her mind and imagination wonder and consider a powerful man such as this, walking into her life to protect her and Al, to relieve her burden and share her responsibility. Only for as long as it took her to climb the stairs though. By the time she reached the top, she had suppressed any fleeting thoughts. She turned her mind to Al as she lay down next to him in the cramped space she called a bedroom. There was no room for hope in her life.