How do you decide what sort of job you would even qualify for when you have little education, few practical skills, and aren't familiar with this time? I'm not sure that I even would have the qualifications to be a student here, if that were even something I wished to pursue, which I'm not even sure I want yet.
I don't know what I want. Everything is still so very overwhelming.
ARRIVAL
The thick, ghastly haze of the mist, once practically opaque to the naked eye, fades and opens up to a nostalgic homegrown New England town. A friendly gazebo, freshly painted white sits on a neatly mown lawn at the center of the town square. Vehicles stop at the redlight while locals cross the street, birds chirp in the trees, and a school bus stops to pick up a few children in oversized backpacks. Pedestrians walk by you without a second glance. Did they not see you suddenly appearing out of nowhere? How could they not have noticed that all encompassing fog? And why doesn’t your obviously otherworldly attire catch their attention? This appears to be a small, close knit community. And it’s clear you’re not from around these parts.
But these are simply the first of many mysteries you’re about to discover.
The further you investigate your new surroundings, the more ominous this seemingly quaint and colloquial town becomes. There’s something dark beneath its pleasant guise. You can’t shake the chill at the back of your neck and the sense that someone—or something—is watching you. Then there’s the odd graffiti on the alleyway walls and the way the locals talk about certain locations. And while the mist is gone, there are places in town that make you reminisce about the mist. Places that feel supernaturally thin. Thin enough to let in whispers from the other side. Or maybe even screams.
And don’t worry if you hear laughter or the jingling chimes of carnival coming from the rain gutters in the street. That’s just your imagination. There’s nothing down there.
Nothing that floats.
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