A short I wrote on the train on my way to work today. Enjoy it, continue it, or let it inspire.

The fog laid thick across the landscape, like oppressive, almost opaque walls constantly just out of reach. The trees lining the footpath, barely visible like silent grey monoliths in the low light. As dusk slowly transitioned towards night, the forest had fallen into complete silence, the crackling of gravel now uncomfortably loud. With every step forward the cold and damp of his surroundings seeped in through the openings between his layers of clothing, his fingers aching under the weight of the bag he had been carrying for what felt like an eternity. Now forced to constantly shift it from hand to hand his arms weak from the exertion. Small shivers in his neck gradually migrated across his torso and grew in intensity. As the fog around him progressively lost what transparency it had to the darkness of the night his determined stride turned into a slight limp to compensate for the fatigue in his arms and lower back. With the absence of visual impressions the aching in his body stole the majority of his mind's attention, making every step almost unbearable. He had to stop, he had made most of the journey already, he did not have very far left to go. But he just needed a short rest. He put down the bag next to him and slowly stretched out his back, pain dissipating from his spine now that the weight of the bag was no longer pulling it unevenly down. As he massaged and blew on his burning hands, he could hear footsteps in the distance; they grew louder and louder. A faint flicker of light gradually appeared in the distance dancing like a firefly lost in the darkness.