Mist & Whispers Read Free

to find nothing there. ‘Everything ok, Mr Scott?’
    Without even a blink, he answered, ‘Yes, child, nothing to worry about.’ Then he looked up at the clock on the wall and said, ‘I’m going to the office. If anyone comes in asking for me, or for the store owner, you tell them I’m not here, alright? Wade’s taking me on holiday in a few weeks and I’ve a lot to prepare for whilst I’m away, so I don’t want to be disturbed. You understand, don’t you?’
    ‘Ok,’ Anya said slowly, not really sure why she couldn’t just say he was busy.
    ‘Thank you, child,’ he said, his smile soft and grateful. He joined Stephanie in the office (who quickly replaced her internet browser for next week’s unfinished rota) and left Anya alone behind the counter. After a while spent twitching her thumbs, she picked up a book and began to read. She was barely a page in before the bell on the door tinkled, letting her know someone had come in.
    If the place had been frosty all day down to the tension between her and Michael, it was nothing compared to how it felt now.
    The air tingled and a grey fog cloaked a dark figure standing by the door. His footsteps creaked eerily on the old floor boards, and as he approached her, his features became clear. His skin was callous and lined, as if he’d been hard at work for the last century, though he couldn’t have been more than mid-thirties. She noticed his clothes; he was dressed in the most bizarre way, as if he’d taken the military-look that had not long gone out of fashion and put his own fantastical spin on it. And she found herself mesmerised by his eyes; a smouldering, dark grey, and... Is he wearing guy-liner?
    She couldn’t make out his accent as he spoke.
    ‘Hello,’ his voice was low, the word spoken slow and moody. She got the feeling that pleasantries were an unfamiliar territory to the man.
    ‘Can I help you, sir?’
    He strolled around the shop floor as if he owned the place, taking in every inch of it. ‘I’m looking for someone,’ he announced whilst thumbing a few books on a shelf. ‘A man.’
    She took a breath. ‘I’m the only one here right now, sir.’
    He smiled to himself. ‘Hmm. I can see.’
    Anya shivered. She felt the pit of her stomach pull. Something about this man wasn’t right.
    ‘What about when you’re not here? There must be others... colleagues, a manager... the owner perhaps?’ He spoke as if he already knew the answers.
    He placed a Stephen King book down on the cash desk and his hands came to rest either side of it. Anya noticed he had a strange mark on his right hand. A scar shaped like... like something familiar, but from upside down her brain couldn’t quite work out what she was looking at. Wings, possibly.
    The man cleared his throat and Anya realised she’d been staring a moment too long. She rang the novel through the till and tried to remain as calm as she could. ‘Well, there is a boy who works here some days, but you couldn’t exactly call him a man .’ She forced a smile, hoping that would be enough to end his questions.
    He smirked, handed her some cash and then shoved the book under his arm.
    ‘Well.’ He paused. ‘Thank you.’ He made his way to the door.
    ‘Sorry I couldn’t be more help,’ she called after him, stuttering slightly.
    Then the man did something really strange. He stopped still for a moment, then turned and fixed her with a stare that spoke of confusion and familiarity. He stepped closer and closer, until she could feel his breath on her skin.
    Anya had never felt more invaded, but she kept his stare all the same.
    ‘Have...’ he hesitated. ‘Have we met before?’ She frowned, the question having caught her by surprise, but before she could answer he mumbled, quite unsettlingly to himself. ‘Looks like... No, of course not. You’d know if... No,’ and without even another glance back, he swiftly left the shop.

 
    R ED INK SLICED through name after name after name listed on the