• The fog rolled in again. As thick and as enormous as it came the many years before, it felt as a dream, it flowing slowly, yet swiftly, toward the fog, wanting to investigate it and its contents. It was curious however, and much more anxious than it had been. It wanted to feel the fog, wanted to embrace it, but alas, it couldn't. It flowed around the thick fog, looking for a way in. When it found one, it entered willingly as if pulled by a mysterious force. Now it glided slowly. It wasn't tall, but barely able to see over them. On it floated, however. It flowed around headstones as if it were in a maze. On and on the fog went, never ceasing to show it anything.
    The fog was reluctant and stubborn. Soon though, a sound came into range. A sound that was never heard before, a sound that frightened it, but still it pressed. It continued around the maze of headstones, looking for the source of the strange, very faint noise. The dream that was now became flesh, grew limbs and gave sight, taking it back to a recent memory. And with each trembling step the memory became, the more curious and frightened it began to feel. Of course, a memory was only a memory and couldn't be hurt physically, but why did it have a heartbeat that sounded as if it were on the brink of death.
    The sound was louder now, almost as if she were right next to it. It came from behind the gravestone it was hiding behind it. It waited a few moments, calming itself from the horrifying, grotesque sound. It seemed to stop for a moment, as if sensing something, then continuing when it thought the sound was nothing. Summoning it's courage, the memory stepped out from behind the gravestone and stared at the sight before it.

    Her eyes opened retracting band. At first, she wasn't familiar of her surroundings, thinking them foreign. But her mind slowly focused and her eyes slowly went back to their original shape. She found the covers that ran over her body a nuisance. She had them off of her body in two long strokes of her arms. She slowly turned, sitting on the edge of the bed, her frilly nightgown draping her body. She noticed it again. That time when she was younger. She had the same dream for the past seven years. And each time was on this night, the night the fog rolled in and steadied itself over the cemetery.
    She brought the palm of her hands to meet her eyes, feeling them throbbing in the back of their sockets. She didn't know what had come over her. She couldn't even remember what happened after that. She could only remember the scene, and the boy, who was covered in blood from mouth to chest. She could remember his eyes a clear as day. Those eyes. That silver appearance that was only found in dogs. It must've been the fog. She told herself that so many times and as much as she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling that what happened in that cemetery was real. Very much real, and very much alive.
    Outside her uncovered window, there was a storm brewing. The lightning ran across the sky as if on fire and was quickly followed by a loud boom that seemed to shake her, almost completely empty, room. She jumped at it, still being afraid of it, but slightly. She rose from her bed and walked slowly toward the window. She looked out of it, her hands resting on the hangings about to close it. Then, she noticed a figure, black as a cat, stroll through the rain as it if were nothing.
    She watched the figure, cane in hand and top hat, go down her street. Suddenly, everything stopped. The rain had ceased and the man had stopped as well. The only sound protruding from the room was the sound of her heartbeat. She looked on at the frozen figure in the frozen rain. Then, the figure turned and bore his eyes right into hers. Their silver appearance made her tumble away from her window. She didn't go far. She fell into the arms of something strong and quickly turned around. But it was a little too late as his fangs sank deep into her neck.