The Voice in the FogIn a quiet town

The Voice in the Fog

In a quiet town surrounded by hills and thick woods, there lived a man named Yobu. He was a quiet man who worked at the hardware store and lived alone in a small wooden house at the edge of town. People said Yobu was strange, but kind. He didn’t talk much and never stayed out late.

Every year, when autumn came, a heavy fog rolled into the town. It came without warning, like a white blanket falling from the sky. It covered the streets, the houses, and the trees. And when the fog came, Yobu heard it.

The voice.

It always called his name.

\"Yobu…\"

Soft, long, and cold. A whisper floating through the fog.

At first, he thought it was just the wind. Or maybe a trick his mind was playing. But it happened again. And again. Every time the fog came, the voice returned.

\"Yobu…\"

It came from outside. From the woods.

Yobu tried to ignore it. He locked his doors. Closed the windows. Pulled the blankets over his head. But the voice always found a way to reach him.

\"Yobu… come out.\"

One night, he told his friend Laro about it.

“Maybe you’re just tired,” Laro said, sipping his coffee. “You work too much.”

“No,” Yobu shook his head. “I know what I hear. It’s real. It calls my name. Every fog.”

Laro frowned. “Have you gone out to check?”

“No,” Yobu said quickly. “I don’t want to see where it comes from.”

“Maybe you should,” Laro said, half-joking. “Maybe it just wants a hug.”

Yobu didn’t laugh.

That night, the fog came again. Thick. Heavy. Like wet cotton in the air. Yobu sat in his living room, lights off, heart beating fast. He waited.

And then it came.

\"Yobu…\"

He stood up. Hands shaking. He moved to the window and peeked through the curtain. He couldn’t see anything—just white fog swallowing the world outside.

\"Yobu… come…\"

This time, the voice was closer.

He backed away from the window. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might break through his chest. He ran to his bedroom, grabbed his flashlight, and crouched near the bed.

The voice came again. Louder.

\"Yobu… I see you…\"

“No,” Yobu whispered. “Go away.”

The voice laughed. A soft, broken laugh.

\"You used to come to me.\"

Yobu froze.

“What… what do you mean?”

The voice did not answer. Just silence. Cold silence.

The next morning, the fog was gone. The sun was shining. Birds were singing. People went about their day as if nothing had happened.

But Yobu was different.

He went to the library. He found old books about the town. He looked through newspapers, maps, anything. And then, he found something.

A report. From forty years ago.

“Boy Disappears in Fog.”

He read it. The boy’s name was Yobu TchéNin.

That was his full name too.

But he hadn’t disappeared.

Had he?

He checked the date. It was the same day as his birthday.

His hands shook.

He rushed to his old photos at home. He looked at the one of him as a child. His parents. A happy day.

But in the corner, behind the trees, there was a shadow. A dark figure standing in the fog.

He had never seen that before.

That night, he didn’t sleep.

The next day, the fog came again.

And so did the voice.

\"Yobu…\"

He stood at his door.

\"No more hiding,\" he whispered to himself.

He grabbed his flashlight and stepped outside.

The fog was thick. He couldn’t see his feet. He walked slowly, calling out.

“Who are you?”

The voice whispered again.

\"You know me…\"

“No, I don’t,” Yobu said.

\"You came to me… a long time ago.\"

Yobu walked toward the woods. The trees stood like tall ghosts in the mist. The air was cold. Too cold.

Then he saw it.

A figure standing between the trees.

Tall. Thin. Wrapped in black fog.

It had no face. Just darkness where a face should be.

\"Yobu… you left me…\"

“I don’t know you,” Yobu whispered.

\"You promised you\'d stay.\"

Suddenly, Yobu remembered. A flash. A moment.

He was five. Lost in the woods. The fog came. He cried. And then—someone found him. A dark figure with no face. It held his hand. Told him he’d be safe.

He had stayed for hours. Maybe longer.

But then his father had found him. Pulled him away. And the figure had vanished.

It had waited all these years.

\"You promised…\" the voice hissed.

“I was a child!” Yobu shouted. “I didn’t know!”

\"You belong to me…\"

The figure moved closer. The fog grew colder. Yobu’s flashlight flickered.

He turned and ran.

Branches scratched his arms. Roots caught his feet. He ran through the white fog, not knowing where he was going.

The voice screamed now.

\"YOBU!!!\"

He burst out of the woods. Fell to the ground outside his house.