Hopefully, this isn't the weather you're experiencing, but today we're musing on how to write a foggy scene without telling you it's foggy.
Have a fun week!
K.C. SPRAYBERRY, author
It was difficult to see my hand in front of my face, let alone the traffic signals. Why was I driving on such a morning? Oh yes, work. I had to get to work. So, as I puttered along, I prayed that I wouldn't miss a red light, and if I did, there wouldn't be someone in the intersection.
Oh my. Didn't see that light. But then again, neither did the cop beside me.
DAWN KNOX, author
The ship creaked as it changed course, heading straight for the ragged, jagged rocks which would shortly tear its heart out. From the cliff path, I could just make out the diffuse light from its lanterns, glowing eerily in the sea mist.
It didn’t seem possible that the decoy lights on the beach had been sufficiently bright to slice through the thick, grey blanket that enveloped the cove and everyone in it. Had the merchant ship been further out to sea, it would have passed by unaware of the treachery that awaited it and its crew, but as so often happened on nights such as these, the boat hugged the coast, and it would soon pay the price.
I couldn’t see the men and women who were poised on the beach, ready to salvage the cargo and to deal with any survivors, but I knew that almost every villager would be there, somewhere. Tiny noises came from all parts of the cove confirming their presence - a muffled cough, a whispered command, the soft footfall of someone clambering over rock down by the waves. But everyone was invisible, concealed in the murkiness which would hide their deeds tonight.
Beside me, my mother tensed as a cry rang out through the gloom, followed by the thunderous crash of splintering wood. The ship struck the rocky pinnacles and the lanterns on the mast slowly sank towards the sea, as the vessel listed. The noise was all the more alarming because it was so close, yet the ship was completely obscured behind the impenetrable greyness.
On deck, someone was frantically ringing a bell as men screamed and jumped into the freezing sea. But still I could see nothing, even the lanterns on the masts had been extinguished.
‘’Tis begun, Mary,’ said my mother, ‘wait here ‘til the goods come ashore, then carry as much as you can. You’ll have a full belly before you sleep tonight, if all goes well.’ And with that, she melted into the mist.
‘But Ma, how long will I have to wait?’ I called after her.
Her ghostly voice floated out of the gloom, ‘As long as it takes.’
But I needn’t have worried about a signal. The unmistakeable sounds of merciless slaughter echoed round the cove and I cowered in the shroud of obscurity until the piercing screams and guttural voices were silenced under the waves, in explosions of bubbles.
When I could only hear familiar voices, I knew it was time to help.
I shivered in the damp, clamminess of the air.
ANNE STENHOUSE, author
The open carriage windows let intense cold and damp into the hired vehicle. Merril shook her head hoping to clear her vision, but that made matters worse. If it weren't that the horse's clopping on the soaking cobbles hinted at a coachman, she could be alone on Castle Hill Wynd. She could be alone in the city dragging her way through a bowl of soup; black, glutinous soup with odd floating lumps. Auld Reekie's hundreds of small cooking fires added their smoke to the miasma and she sank back against the carriage swabs. She sighed. Lucky stars? Where were they when a girl needed light?
Thanks for joining us and see you next week!
If you have a question or comment you’d like us to muse upon, do not hesitate to contact me Christine Steeves-Speakman at MuseChrisChat@gmail.com