By K.Z. Morano
My earliest memory was that of my father disappearing into the silver fog.
I cried out his name… first word I ever spoke… but he just kept walking.
Then his replacement came.
A silent semi-man…
He’d lock the doors and mother’s screams would splinter the air… They were of unexplainable pleasure… and pain.
“Hithh thill your father…” mother said as her teeth clattered onto the floor.
That was history.
Then the mist called me…
When I return, I hope my wife would remember what I told her.
To aim straight for the head… and to never look into my eyes…