It was still there. The mist was
rolling across the floor at ankle level. She tried to move out of its
way, but it wrapped around her feet, and she could no longer move.
Whatever was really going on, if there really was a pattern hidden
behind the curtain, behind the screen, from somewhere beneath the
lowest pit in the theater, it was slowly creeping across the room.
None of the others noticed it as they kept up their insane combat,
pounding each other as if the future of the world depended on this last
battle. Outside, the city lights were fading in the fog, shimmering
and melting in what seemed less like air and more like the bottom of a
gray sea.
What kind of author would treat their characters this way? Julia
wondered, as she felt her shins being enveloped by whatever it was.
She struggled, but her legs would not move. She tried walking,
running, kicking. All equally useless. That is, until Cecil rubbed
his head against her chin and began to purr.
Her left foot suddenly came loose, and she was able to take a step.
Then her right. This couldn't be happening, she thought.
Pages:
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126