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Everything is so white, that is hard to see grass under the feet. There is only an endless field, chained with a fog. The fog is filling lungs, and slowly destroying them. Somewhere must be trees, somewhere must be city lights, but all silhouettes, which remindes of those things melted a long time ago. Almost snow-white fog dissolves everything, like ammonia.
"Where are you?!" the scream becomes an echo, which immediately runs through the whole field and drowns in the fog. Disappearing. Lungs fill with air and dust. It becomes hard to scream, it's even hard to say a word. But the words dissipate, just like the distant lights of the city.
The fog flows from the dark forest across the field like a rapid stream. Somewhere far away a nightingale timidly sings its songs, but the fog washes them away. Sun rays desperately grasp the tree's branches, trying to save themselves from drowning. The endless field doesn't respond with winds anymore. With every step the fog becomes whiter and whiter, its new walls are building and intertwining, and the distant collums of trees disappear. All landmarks have faded away.
Maybe it is still day, or it's already night. It's hard to say. Bright white light hits in the eyes, so it must be day. Night hits with darkness and fears, it confuses. It makes the mind dull and dizzy, paralyzes thoughts, destroys sanity, and it scares. But his breathing is still calm, his mind isn't enveloped in fear, and his steps are slow but confident. He can easily give up and stop walking, but something pulls him forward.
He knows he's not alone. Despite all screams of sanity and willing to stop, he goes ahead. How long does he roam here? An hour, or three? The time became as slow as the fog.
Maybe it's just a game of intuition. Maybe he shouldn't trust his feelings so blindly. The fog envelops everything in its chains. It hides everything: smells, sounds, feelings.
"Say something!" an echo flies across the field, drowning in the emptiness.
"...re!" he hears the sound from the forest. It's barely heard, but that's still enough. Steps become running.
"Where are you!?" The cracking of dry branches under the feet silences the scream, and the voice becomes a wheeze. And the fog petrifies, and his vision blurs.
"...it!" resounds somewhere near and the fog thickens. He still sees a blurred silhouette, and his heart beats faster.
He suffocates. The fog becomes a wall, and it seems impossible to go through it. But the grey silhouette stands in front of him like a ghost. Or maybe it is just a game of his imagination. All of a sudden, breathing goes astray, and the stomach twists into a tight knot. An arrow of panic pierces his brain. The fear blinds him. The silhouette, which ran towards a second ago, melts. He was so close.
"Áron," no, he still hears his name. The fog petrifies, but it doesn't bother him anymore. "Say something".
"Örs?" he goes to the voice, holding out his hand. Nothing. He stumbles falling on the cold ground. It is like a dream. The ground seems neither solid nor cold. It seems like it has lost its shape. It seems like the whole world has lost its shape and now it becomes blurred and fades, disappearing slowly in the fog. Yes. Yes, it is true.
"Say something," the voice repeats.
"Don't disappear" he doesn't see the face of his interlocutor but can feel the smile on his face. The phrase sounded so childish.
"The more you fear, the heavier this fog becomes. Nothing is disappearing, only your fear prevents you from seeing" the voice is so close, but he cannot see anything, but the white wall of the fog.
The world blurs and becomes a heterogeneous lump of a strange matter, he loses connection with reality. But someone grabs his arm, pulls him up, and hugs him tightly. And the fog disappears.