The Half-Formed Morning

I wasn’t planning on telling this story. It isn’t particularly thrilling or original, and you might even call it common. But I’ve shared a few of my experiences before, so I suppose I should tell you about this one, too.

I was camping by a lake with some friends, in a place called Pinery Provincial Park. It was just before dawn, and I woke up with a full bladder. I unzipped my tent and stepped out into the cool, damp air. A thick fog had rolled in off the water, turning the world into a gray, formless void. The only sound was the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.

After I finished my business, I started back toward our campsite. We had a fire pit ringed with stones, and a few collapsible chairs scattered around. I was surprised to see a figure sitting in one of those chairs, facing the lake. The fog was so dense that I couldn’t make out any details, but I was sure it was a person—maybe one of my friends who had gotten up early to watch the sunrise.

I called out a greeting, but there was no response. As I got closer, I saw that the figure was hunched over, its head bowed as if in deep thought. I was maybe twenty feet away when it suddenly turned to look at me. I still couldn’t see its face, just a dark shape that seemed to absorb the pale light. Then, in an instant, it was gone. No sound, no warning—just there, then not.

A chill ran down my spine. I hurried back to my tent, zipped it shut, and lay down in my sleeping bag. My heart was pounding. I tried to rationalize it: maybe it was a trick of the light, a log that looked like a person from a certain angle. But I knew what I had seen.

I didn’t go back to sleep. I stayed up, listening to the sounds of the forest, until the first rays of sunlight broke through the fog. When I finally emerged, the chair was empty, and there was no sign that anyone had been there. I didn’t mention it to my friends that day, or ever. But I haven’t been able to shake that feeling of being watched ever since. Sometimes, on foggy mornings, I catch a glimpse of a shape in my peripheral vision, but when I turn to look, there’s nothing there. Only the fog, and the silence, and the memory of a half-formed figure that vanished before I could truly see it.