Spoilers of the story ahead. Read before or after reading the story at your own discretion.
Thanks in advance for reading.
_Lost in the Fog_
Steve walked warily down the street, inching forwards one step at a time slowly and carefully through the interminable fog. A look of great concentration was carved into his face, which was occasionally contorted by fear; fear of the unknown, fear of the imperceptible, fear of the fog that cloaked everything around him in a fine mist. He could only see a few metres into the grey before it became like a bleak wall. Not a thing stirred in the mist besides Steve; the fog was devoid of any other life. The fog itself was so thick that he thought he could reach out and grab a chunk of it in his hand, but alas, he could not, and if he could, he would have torn away all of the curtains of mist to reveal the sun. But since he could not, onwards did he inch.
By now, Steve had been in the fog for close to an hour, though it would normally have taken him ten minutes to get home from school. It was as though the damp chill had taken hold of the adolescent and refused to release, intent on keeping him forever within its cold embrace. Steve, lost and confused, could do nothing about the fog, thus he was forced to move through it at a crawl's pace in fear of what may be beyond his sight. He knew it was irrational to walk so slowly though, for he was in a very safe residential district of the suburbs. But, he knew he had to tip-toe through the fog, for reasons he could not put to words. A gut instinct? A voice in his head? A primitive fear? He knew not, but what he did know was that his very existence was in jeopardy for as long as he was in the fog. That was why he warily walked down the street.
He did not see shifting shadows amongst the earth-bound clouds, nor did he hear any frightening sounds in the air, but he jumped every so often regardless. The only thing he could see was the sidewalk he was on, and even then, just barely. He could not make out anything else; the eerie fog seemed to cover the entire face of the world. Nonetheless, he apprehensively made his way blindly. In this occasionally stumbling and jolting fashion he shuffled on for another twenty minutes.
At first, he thought it was a demon that had come to consume him. However, as the fog parted for him, it revealed the dark shape in the gloom to be a girl with long golden hair done in a ponytail. She had sultry blue eyes like deep, dark sapphires and was wearing a Victorian-era dress coloured a deep crimson shade. She was also wearing a ring strung around her neck. She appeared to be lost and in a hurry, as she was looking around herself frantically while holding up her dress carefully with her thumb and first two fingers, so as not to let it drag.
“Professor Church? Is that you?” she asked hopefully, in a crystal clear voice reminiscent of silver chimes. She was quickly disappointed though, and then was crestfallen.
Steve could not believe his eyes as he looked at the girl, who was a head shorter than him. Dismayed by the girl's disappointment, he said, “Hey, I'm sorry that I'm not the one you were looking for. Do you want to want me to search with you, though?”
“I... Y-yes, please.” Smooth move, Steve!
“All right then. My name’s Steve. Nice to meet you.” He held out his right hand.
“Uhm. My name is Jill Church,” she said, bowing instead of taking Steve's hand. Too bad, Steve!
The two consulted each other briefly before agreeing to continue on in the direction the girl was heading originally; that is, back to where Steve had come from. He was fine with that though. Thus, the two walked together, a small island of activity in the sea of dead fog.
Seeing the girl looking so stressed and uncomfortable (probably because she was with a stranger), Steve decided to strike up a conversation. So, he asked, “Say, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for example, do you have any hobbies that you like?”
At this, Jill noticeably brightened, and some confidence returned to her. She smiled and said, “My hobbies are embroidery and reading.”
Steve was dumbfounded - but he refused to show it. Instead, he replied, “Wow, that sounds exciting! Why don't you teach me how to embroidery some time?”
“Ah, certainly!” she piped, genuinely pleased. Inside his mind, Steve's conscious convulsed at the blatant lie; he had no idea what embroidery was.
At the very least, she feels better, he thought to himself. Indeed, the girl began listing her favourite books, none of which Steve, whose hobbies were basketball and television, recognized.
As they walked on and talked to each other, the fog seemed to become less and less suffocating, as though it was slowly relinquishing its deathly grip. The two shared knowledge about each other: favourite foods, any pets they had (Jill had a dog), and their families.
“I live with my father, Professor Church,” said Jill.
“’Kay, so we're looking for your dad. How is he?”
“Oh, he is a great man. He taught me almost everything I know and he takes utmost care of me. For those things he could not teach me, such as sewing, he found instructors. I could not ask for a better father. I am ever so grateful for him!"
“Wow, that's great. How about your mother?”
“My… mother? I do not have one.” She gave Steve a strange look of concern with those eyes as deep and fathomless as the sea. For some time, Steve was lost in those eyes, only capable of staring.
“Steve?”
“Oh... huh?”
“I do not have a mother.”
“Okay then… I won't go there.”
“Is it that strange for me not to have a mother?”
“Well, yes, er, no, er... I don't know! I think, uh, everyone has someone who gave birth to them...”
“Oh, well then, in that case, I simply do not know my mother.”
“Weird...” Steve was puzzled. Why did the girl not know of her mother? It was a mystery to him, but Jill did not seem particularly perturbed over the matter, so it must not be such a great deal so as to pry. Thus, Steve ceased to inquire further.
By this time, the dense fog felt noticeably less threatening. Though the two's sight was still limited to just a few metres, they no longer felt terrified of the endless fog. Indeed, though they could not yet discern their surroundings, they were quite content to simply continue walking and chatting. Somewhere along the way, the two began holding each other's hands.
When they saw another shape moving through the darkness, they were not scared. Instead, Steve, who was feeling particularly ecstatic from talking to Jill for so long, waved and shouted, “Hey there!” The figure draped in fog stopped, turned, then approached. Jill shifted nervously and hid behind Steve. Good for you Steve! However, when the figure drew near and the fog no longer prevented recognition, Jill rushed forward to hug the old man. Despair not, Steve! For, soon enough, Jill was introducing Steve to the man.
“Professor Church, how good it is to see you again!”
“My word, Jill! I was looking all over for you! Where have you been in this dreadful fog?”
“It is all right, Professor. Come, I found someone I would like you to meet.”
“Steve, this is my father, Professor Church. Father, Steve.”
“It's good to meet you,” said Steve, who held out his hand. Professor Church shook it.
“Hello, Steve. I am Professor Charles M. Church. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too. Jill talked a lot about you.”
“Ohohoho, has she now?” Professor Church laughed.
The fog was beginning to clear by now, as the atmosphere became warmer and merrier. The sun was beginning to peek through the fog from above. Although Steve was beginning to have his doubts he was anywhere near home judging by the slowly-reappearing surroundings, he accepted the change in setting.
“Now then,” the Professor exclaimed. “Jill, let us go on home.”
“Oh, Professor, might Steve be allowed to come with us?” asked Jill as she returned to Steve's side.
“No, Jill, we do not wish to inconvenience the young man…”
She took hold of Steve's arm and hugged it while giving the Professor a pleading look with those magnificent eyes of hers. Lucky you, Steve!
“Oh dear, how can I refuse you Jill...” surrendered the Professor. “All right then, he can visit. Would you like to do that, Steve?”
“Very much so, Professor,” answered Steve, nodding vigorously.
“In that case, follow me. Come along now.”
As the trio walked through the fog towards Jill’s home, the professor and Steve began conversing, while Jill and Steve held each other’s hands.
“Just out of curiosity, Professor,” said Steve, “what do you study?”
“Ah, I am glad you asked that question. I am regarded as an influential person in the area of education of wild children.”
“Oh, okay.”
“You do not find the significance in that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ohohoho, Jill has not told you yet?”
Jill interjected, “It is so embarrassing, father…”
“What is?” Steve asked, his curiosity now piqued.
“You see,” explained Professor Church, “I first found Jill in a certain location in Lithuania, raised by wild pigs. Jill was what one calls a ‘feral child,’ a child raised in the cold, dark of the wild, away from human compassion, understanding, and civilization.”
Jill was fidgeting by now. “Oh, father, you are making it sound so much dramatic than it is!”
“Now, now, it is rude to interrupt, Jill.
“Where was I? Ah, yes, so, Jill was a feral child. I asked myself, ‘Will I be able, through education, to produce an upstanding member of society?’ I took up that self-imposed challenge, and immediately took Jill into my care.”
“Wow, I never knew that. How come you didn’t tell me, Jill?”
“Well… Do you not think of me as… strange, now?”
“No way, that’s crazy talk! You’re just special!”
“Yes, Jill is special indeed. The truth is, not many feral children can be civilized. Indeed, it was a difficult journey. Training to walk on two feet, using my deluxe punishment bag for punishment, training to speak words, training to pick out things that are good to eat…” The professor was beaming as he reminisced over past memories and accomplishments. Meanwhile, Jill had her eyes downcast, her face glowing like an oven coil. Steve gazed up at the Professor in awe – what a fine lady the old man had raised!
“It has been seven months since that fateful day,” he continued. “Oh, that reminds me: today is a very special day for Jill. I will be holding a conference at my lecture hall this evening to present my success in educating Jill. Would you care to join us, Steve?”
“I’d love to!”
“Excellent!”
“Oh dear,” murmured Jill. Her grip on Steve’s hand tightened slightly. Steve’s grip remained firm.
“Don’t worry about it Jill, it’ll be fine.”
In spite of the fog, which had gradually lightened, Professor Church was able to navigate his way to his lecture hall. When they entered, Steve saw that the room was large enough to fit several hundred people inside. At one end of the room was a large desk, and from there to the opposite end were long, crescent benches that stretched across the width of the room. It was lit by a chandelier of oil lamps, which splotched the walls with a warm, yellow glow. There were already several dozen people seated inside, many of whom hailed the professor as he made his way towards the desk with Jill and Steve behind him. The crowd produced an indistinct background murmuring.
“Have a seat,” Professor Church said, gesturing at one of the front benches. Steve sat down. “Jill, come with me to the front.” Jill continued to follow the professor, who calmly walked to the desk. As she left, Steve noticed her gripping her dress much tighter than he thought normal.
“Psst, hey Jill!” She turned her head. “Don’t worry about it!” Steve winked and gave her a thumbs-up. She reciprocated the action but with a quivering smile and turned back, continuing to walk in miniscule steps.
When all was set, the conference began with a speech from the professor.
“My friends, colleagues, and the press: welcome. I am Professor Charles M. Church. We gather here today at this conference to bear witness to a miracle in the field of education of feral children. As we all know, education is one of the most valuable aspects to society. Without it, there would be no culture, no civilization. Without education, humans are but savages. This has been shown to be true in the majority of cases which involved feral children; children that were found in the wild that had somehow survived and scraped together a living as a wild animals. In these cases, when I have tried my utmost to educate the feral children, my attempts would only bear half fruits; for feral children, learning a human language is a monumentally difficult task, as is learning to walk on two feet, be sociable towards other people, and in general accept the rules and laws of society. Needless to say, feral children are uncivilized and incapable of becoming respectable citizens, in contrast to the ‘noble savages’ of fiction.
“However, today, I present to you a child I found in a certain location in Lithuania raised by wild pigs that I have been successful in educating. The child’s name is Jill. In the period of seven months, I have been training and teaching her all sorts of skills and manners. I have trained and taught Jill to walk on two feet and use a human language. Despite the many failed attempts to educate feral children in the past, this one time, we have been blessed; for the child has learned all of the things it has been taught.
“Today, you will all have the chance to speak with her. Without further ado, here is: Jill.”
Jill took the stage in front of the desk, trembling visibly underneath the scrutiny of the crowd.
“Uhm, hello… My name is Jill…” She swallowed a gulp of air. She stood quietly as time crawled by. The silence in the hall was deafening; not a thing could be heard besides the ringing in one’s ears. The shadows flitted and danced about as everyone waited for something to happen. It was a tense standoff between Jill and the crowd; who would act first? But no one said anything. No one raised their hands to question the girl and the girl was too busy with shaking uncontrollably to even attempt to expand upon her introduction. One person in the crowd yawned. Eventually, the crowd began to murmur.
“Well?”
“What’s going on?”
“Is this a hoax?”
The professor frowned and wiped his glistening brow with his sleeve.
Steve could not take much more of it. He raised his hand and asked the girl, “Why don’t you tell us about yourself?”
“Wha-what would like t-to know, Steve?” she stuttered.
“How about your hobbies?” The crowd around Steve resonated with approval of the question.
Timidly, she whispered. “My… hobbies… are embroidery and reading.”
A person in the front asked, “Pardon?”
Jill raised her voice and repeated herself. “My hobbies are embroidery and reading!” Indeed, she had almost shouted with her voice of brilliant silver.
Another person asked, “What books have you read?”
Jill jumped on the topic, immediately listing her favourite books. The scholars in the crowd were awed by the titles she mentioned and proceeded to ask for brief summaries and key metaphors, to which she responded perfectly to the amazement of the crowd. Steve looked around; many of the attendants were wide-eyed and had their mouths agape. More questions shot through the air. Though Steve stayed in his seat, some of the more enthusiastic crowd members stood up and began yelling out questions. The professor began shouting for quiet and an orderly procession of questions. It took ten minutes for the few dozen people in the lecture hall to settle down. Then, the interview began.
The conference lasted approximately two hours, at which point the time was well into the evening. The fog had almost completely receded. Many of the people were not satisfied with the conference though, and requested that the professor hold another conference soon, to which he declined, explaining that it would be unethical to force Jill to talk under such pressure again and that the girl deserved a normal life. Though the other professors were saddened by this, they accepted the excuse and recommended another conference in a year or two; Professor Church replied that he would consider it.
At long last, the professor, Jill, and Steve made their way into Jill’s home. The house was of Victorian style and a bit small, but very inviting. Inside, the lamps had already been lit by a maid, and a student of the professor was waiting in a chair.
“Professor Church, I’d like to talk to you in private for a moment. Is that all right?” asked the student.
“Certainly. Jill, Steve, perhaps you two should head upstairs while I have a word with my pupil.”
Jill bowed gracefully and excused herself, while Steve followed her up the stairs.
The two entered Jill’s room, which was wonderfully draped in crimson satin all around. They sat on her bed located in the centre of her room and began to talk.
“How’re you feeling?” Steve asked.
“I am absolutely exhausted. Who knew they would be so interested in me?”
“Of course they’d be interested; you’re an interesting person to say the least.”
“Oh, you are too kind,” she said, smiling.
“No, really! Even though you’re a bit shy, you’re really smart and kind!”
“Oh? How can you tell?”
“Just by looking at your eyes. They’re beautiful.” Indeed, to Steve, the girl’s eyes seemed to reflect and pure and innocent soul. Jill blushed and looked down, but Steve softly turned her face towards his, ever so carefully as though hers was a fragile thing. He looked into her navy eyes like he was looking down a deep well whose darkness was impenetrable. For a minute, the two stared at each other, and then their faces began to close in.
Meanwhile, downstairs, the student was raising an imperative issue with the professor. He looked out the windows to see if there were any eavesdroppers; there were none. By now, the dreadful fog that had blanketed the city had all but lifted. He turned around to face the professor. He took a deep breath then spoke.
“I do not know how to put this… but…
“Professor, I believe the child was originally a boy.”
“Yes, and..?”
Post has been edited 5 time(s), last time on Oct 15 2011, 5:13 pm by Sand Wraith.
