It was a foggy morning unlike any other. It didn't have the regular haze that blurred the edges of buildings, reducing them to shapeless blobs. This fog turned the world into a blank sheet of paper. It made her feel small and insignificant as if a magical deity took a giant eraser and wiped away all of human civilization.

She shivers, small tremors traveling up her exposed arms. The cold air adds to the feeling of isolation the fog created, the iciness clinging to her body like a leech. She instantly regrets not bringing her sweater. There were no other living things walking near her to radiate any heat and the cold kept pressing in, intent on sucking the life out of her.

She stops in the middle of the sidewalk, noticing the unfamiliar bareness of the streets. She pulls out her earbuds. Silence. There was no other sound except the faint buzzing of her earphones and the echo of her previous footsteps.

Is there really nobody else walking here? It couldn't be. There were usually at least three other people heading to the same bus stop.

She looks around. No. It can't be. She rotates her body a full 360 degrees. No cars. No stores. The only things that were visible were the street lights, but even the collective glow they emitted was dim.

What happened to everyone? Cold drops of water land on her skin, causing her to jump in surprise. A steady drizzle falls from the sky. Her t-shirt was a flimsy shield against the gloomy weather conditions. The regret she feels over not bringing a sweater intensifies.

Her mother usually never let her leave the house without a long sleeve, but this time she had managed to evade her nagging. It was all because of the stupid weatherman. He had promised sunny weather and warm breezes in his forecast and she had believed him and his pearly white smile.

Nothing but filthy lies, she seethed. Why do I even watch television? God, I should've just checked the weather app instead. She had been looking forward to the good weather. Now, she frantically rummages through her bag, hoping for some form of protection against the icy assault of the rain. Her hands wrap around a cylindrical shape. She pulls out the object triumphantly, grateful that her mother had packed her an umbrella. With a flourish, she opens it and continues to tread through the streets, pleased that she was prevailing against the rain.

Somehow, the fog was even thicker and her thoughts return to the desolation of the roads. By now, the streetlights were no longer visible. The rain was getting heavier. The drops hit her umbrella harder in sync with her increasing heartbeat. It didn't help that her glasses were fogging up, rendering her sight useless.

She quickly cleans them, using the hem of her shirt to wipe away the moisture. Satisfied after several minutes of rubbing the glass, she continued her walk, no longer sure if she was even heading in the direction of the bus stop anymore.

A bout of paranoia hits her. What if the only reason why these streets were so empty was that there was a serial killer on the loose? Maybe the murderer had already slit everyone's throats and dangled their corpses from trees. Then, was this all just a game for the killer? She couldn't figure out any other reason why she would be the only one left. With all this fog, it would be ideal for this twisted psycho to play hide and seek. The question was, who or what was hiding? Since she was out in the open, she assumed she was the seeker. Maybe she had to find all the hypothetical dangling corpses, lest she suffers the same fate. And if she won, the killer would make her his or her apprentice...

"Gah," she cried out. I've got to stop with all the horror movies. Why would I ever watch a Saw marathon? There must be something wrong with me. But, alas she had a thing for horror movies, especially all the blood and gore that accompanied them. Creepy dolls and serial killers? Count her in. There was something comforting about watching thrillers. But as much as she loved scary movies, she valued her life a billion times more.

Suddenly, she feels the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Someone was watching her. It's the serial killer. I lost the game. I couldn't find the corpses and now they're after my life.

Her heart thumps painfully in her chest as her imagination gets out of hand. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. If I'm going to die, I better face my killer head-on.

Mustering up as much courage as she could, she turns around. There was no one there. Rather than feeling relieved, her paranoia went into overdrive.

This isn't a serial killer hunting me. It's a ghost out for revenge because I defiled their grave. She shakes her head. Yeah, that's a totally logical explanation. Ghosts don't exist and serial killers wouldn't target you. You've never done anything wrong.

Despite this reassurance, she still felt chills go down her back. And it wasn't from the cold. As hard as she tries to ignore it, she could still feel this person's dangerous presence.

"Relax, Nicole," she told herself. "There's no one there."

Still, she feels that piercing stare. This is just your overactive imagination. Nothing else. Overactive imagination, she repeated.

So she stands there, trying her hardest to ignore that person's presence. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. She can't even make it to ten before she turns around again. This time, she sees someone.

Through the fog, she spots the dark silhouette of a boy who looked to be about a few inches taller than her. She could only guess that he might have been close to her age. The only things truly visible to her were the boy's eyes. They were dark and haunting, with bags that rivaled her own. But there was also this gleam in his eyes that seemed to make the temperature drop several more degrees. Fitting for someone she imagined to be her killer.

Against her better judgment, she walks closer to him, wishing to see the rest of his face. It was like something was pulling her towards him, yanking her limbs with an invisible set of puppet strings. He steps back, blending into the fog.

Don't follow him. He might be the only person on the street, but that doesn't mean he's safe. Stranger danger. But she had a difficult time believing that he meant any harm. Despite his scary eyes, he seemed more afraid of her in the way he shrank away.

"I won't hurt you," she said, speaking to the fog. "It's just, we seem to be the only two people here. Do you know what happened to everyone else?"

At the sound of her voice, the fog parts, revealing the boy. He blinks, finally seeing her for the first time. As she takes him in, she realizes that he's taller than she imagined. And the eyes that seemed so dark and scary before were actually a light gray that reminded her of storm clouds.

"None of this is real," he said, finally speaking. He glances at the sky. "This is all a dream. And there was never anyone here except you and me."

Her eyes narrow, puzzled by his cryptic words. "This place is real. I've lived here my whole life. Do you know where the bus stop is?"

"So you're not a figment of my imagination. What's a bus?"

She does a double-take, disarmed by his question. At first, she thinks he's messing with her. But then, Nicole takes a closer look at him, noting the old-fashioned white shirt he wore and the blood on his fingertips.

"Are you a ghost?" She reaches out to touch him, half expecting her hand to go through his shoulder.

He smacks her hand away. "I'm alive. It's this place that's strange. The buildings are tall and the people talk weirdly." He wrings his hands, the fog thickening at his anxiety.

"Well, where are you from?" Clearly, he didn't belong in her neighborhood. Heck, he didn't even belong in her timeline.

"My home doesn't exist in your world. I'm afraid I did the spell wrong and ended up in the wrong place. I should've never tried magic." He trails off, mumbling nonsense to himself.

She stands there awkwardly, unsure of what to say. "Do you know your way back?"

He tugs his hair in frustration. "Of course I do!" He hesitates for a second, unsure of his own words. "I can find my way back. I think. I've just made a terrible mistake. The fact that you can see me means I might've torn the fabric of your universe." He fidgets with the end of his shirt, stressed by his revelations.

"Hey, it's going to be alright," she said, petting his shoulder. Although she didn't understand a thing he said, his stress was contagious. She could feel him shaking through his shirt and that made her shiver a bit too. The sooner he calmed down, the sooner she'd feel at ease. Her morning had already been difficult enough.

"Thanks but things really aren't going to be alright. My actions will have consequences. For me to be here, someone from your dimension will be displaced. They might even be sent back to my world. For your sake, I hope it's not you."

Sent back? She had a hard time just trying to find her way through the fog, much less another world. "I'll be fine," she tells him, even though that was very much not the case.

"Are you sure? I could try to give you some protection." She looks at his shaky hands, messy dark hair, and tired eyes and wonders what sort of help this unstable person could offer her. In some ways, she felt like she was looking into a mirror when she saw him. He was her on her worst days when exhaustion held on to her tighter than the cold.

"What would I need to be protected from?" She looks him directly in the eye, wondering if she should trust him.

"The goddesses," he said. "They're the ones who control everything. May you never have to meet a dimensional Mother in your life."

With that, the boy vanished, disappearing as his mouth was forming more words. The fog lifts and she finds herself at the bus stop she was looking for.

Before she could fully register what happened, the bus pulled up behind her. She quickly boards it and pays her fare before sitting down, knowing all too well how easy it was for drivers to leave people behind.

The rest of her day goes by normally, but she can't get the image of the boy and his haunting eyes out of her head. He was a hallucination. She was sure of it. But it wouldn't be the last time she saw him.