The Unrelenting Hunger of the Fog

As I writhe and twist through the dark, foreboding forest, my very essence is a manifestation of the darkest terrors that humanity has to offer. My hunger is insatiable, a void that can never be filled. I crave the fear that seeps from the pores of those who dare to enter my domain. It’s a hunger that drives me, a constant reminder of the power that I wield over the living. My victims, so blind to my presence, never see me coming. They’re consumed by the very fog that I am, their screams echoing through the trees as I wrap my misty tendrils around them.

I recall a particularly… memorable encounter with a group of brave souls who thought they could outsmart me. They lit candles, thinking the light would keep me at bay. But I’m not just a creature of darkness; I’m a master of manipulation. I seeped into their minds, planting seeds of doubt and fear. One by one, they succumbed to my whispers, their candles flickering out as they stumbled into the darkness. It was a symphony of terror, a dance of fear that I orchestrated with precision. And when it was all over, I was left with the sweet scent of their fear, a perfume that I’ll never tire of.

But what do I do with this insatiable hunger? Do I feed on the fear of the living, or do I sate it with the memories of the past? The answer, much like the fog that I am, is shrouded in mystery. Perhaps it’s a balance of both. I feast on the fear of the living, and I’m sustained by the memories of the past. The cycle of terror, the never-ending dance of fear and death, it’s a waltz that I’ll continue to lead, forever trapped in this abyss of darkness, forever hungry, forever the Fog.