The Midnight Hour & Other Scary Stories

The End

John didn't know how the world had come to an end. It didn't happen all at once, but slowly. One by one, people vanished. Soon, he was the only one left. He lived in a farmhouse in the country, away from most towns and cities, with only his horse and few animals to keep him company.

John spent most of his days tending to the farm, taking care of his plants, and feeding his animals. On days he was very hungry, he would go hunting in the woods near his home. It was a good enough life, some days, but he did miss people an awful lot. The only time John found himself scared, however, was when the fog came rolling in.

He always knew when it would arrive. Sometimes, when he would be out hunting, John would notice that all the animals had left. There would be no birds chirping, or animals rooting through the brush. He would run home at these times and, after checking on his animals, lock himself in his farmhouse and wait for the fog to leave.

He wasn't sure why he was afraid. There was something about it that felt wrong and if the forest feared it, so would he.

The first time there had been anything to confirm his suspicions, he had been tending to a broken fence. He could see the fog begin to drift in on the horizon, rolling over the distant hills. It was moving much faster than it ever had previously, and in his haste, John forgot to shut his chickens in their coop. That time, the fog seemed to linger much longer than before. When it finally did leave, he checked on his chickens to see if they were ok.

They were nowhere to be seen.

John checked high and low for signs of a predator, but there were no tracks, no traces. It was like the birds had vanished into thin air.

From that day forward, John was even more cautious. Using his binoculars, he would spend a great deal of his free time keeping watch for the fog. He always made sure his animals were kept safe indoors well before the fog hit. The only time he failed to do so was when he had fallen asleep at his perch.

You see, John had fashioned himself a seat near the top of his farm's water tower. It offered him a great view of the hills, and for the past few weeks, it had also doubled as an excellent watchtower. But on this day John was very tired; so tired, in fact, that he fell asleep at his post. Hours passed before something cold brushed his face that he woke with a start.

When he opened his eyes, John discovered that the fog was all around him. His horse was cutting up something fierce and the other animals were crying in terror. John quickly left his perch and slid down the ladder. He immediately set to work putting the animals in their shelters. All the while he felt that something terrible was inching towards him in the mists.

Just as John looked to the forest, he saw a denser, heavier blanket of fog drifting from the underbrush. He wasn't sure why, but he knew he needed to run. He ran to his farmhouse and bolted the door. Then, John slinked to his room upstairs and sat on his bed, rifle in hand.

That feeling of dread hadn't left him. There had been something out there, in the mists. He gripped his gun tightly and swallowed. What was it? Perhaps he didn't want to know. After a long silence, John collapsed from exhaustion again.

He didn't dream. When he woke back up, John's arms were heavy and he still felt very tired, but the sun shining through his window meant that the fog had left. He breathed a sigh of relief. That had been too close!

John left his bed and went downstairs.

That's when he noticed something on the window in the kitchen. Confused by what he was looking at, he moved closer.

It was a handprint.

John's heart skipped a beat. The handprint was definitely human. Had someone been in the fog then, looking in his window? Did that mean there were still people in the world? Is that what had happened with his chickens? Were they stolen? He couldn't explain how the people hadn't left tracks, though. The ground by the coop was muddy. There should have been something there!