Sea Mist
The sea is tumbling in over the shallows and the sandy flats with a roar, muffled in the sea-mists drifting inland. The horizon is lost in a gray mist. All vastness, the clouds are piled up like giant rocks, and there is a ‘brool’ over the sea that sounds like some passage of doom.
That’s Bram Stoker describing the curious meteorological conditions that accompanied the ship transporting a minor member of Transylvanian royalty to the shores of England. I cannot see images like this without my mind sliding into old stories I’ve read. Not just that of Dracula, but the work of Daphne du Maurier and Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes. Mist and fog, the thicker the better. As a boy I went out in it every chance I got, and loved the delicious shiver of fear that came with it. I still go out in it, though I no longer expect to see the bane of the Baskervilles. I half-hope some day I might.
I sprang to my feet, my inert hand grasping my pistol, my mind paralyzed by the dreadful shape which had sprung out upon us from the shadows of the fog. A hound it was, an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen. Fire burst from its open mouth, its eyes glowed with a smouldering glare.
How horrible. How wonderful. How very wonderfully horrible.
Photo "2922234046" not found (invalid ID)Photo "2922234046" not found (invalid ID)Photo "2922234046" not found (invalid ID)Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, greg fallis and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
