EchoesInTheFog

In the quiet coastal town of Greymire, a fog rolled in every evening at 9:17 p.m. sharp. It was thick, milky, and unnatural. The townsfolk had learned not to be outside when it came—doors locked, curtains drawn, lights off. Everyone followed the rule. Everyone except Mara.

Mara had returned to Greymire to sell her late grandmother’s house. The place was tucked into the cliffside, overlooking the sea. On her first night there, she stepped out onto the porch at exactly 9:17 p.m., forgetting the old family warnings. The fog crept over the cliffs like a living thing. Silent. Hungry.

Then she heard it.

A voice. Her grandmother’s.

“Mara, why did you leave me here?”

Mara froze. Her grandmother had died in a nursing home three towns away. She turned to go inside, but the door wouldn’t open. The knob twisted endlessly, like it was disconnected from the rest of the world. The fog thickened.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind her.

She spun around.

No one.

But the footsteps continued—circling her. Then came more voices. Dozens. Hundreds. All whispering her name. Some pleading, some furious, some... laughing.

“Mara, come walk with us...”

She screamed, and the fog rushed into her mouth like water.

---

When the sun rose the next morning, the fog was gone, and so was Mara. Only her phone was left behind on the porch, its camera app still open. The last image taken was a blurred shot of her own face—twisted, gray-eyed, and behind her, a hundred shadowy figures reaching from the mist.

Now, each night at 9:17, the fog still comes. But if you stand outside with your phone, and you listen carefully...

You’ll hear Mara whisper:

“I shouldn’t have opened the door…”

#HorrorStory #FogMonster #LostInTheMist #CreepyTales #UrbanLegend #SupernaturalThriller #GreymireHaunting #MaraLivesInTheFog #StayIndoors