A live Christmas old-time radio broadcast is interrupted when the studio is invaded by a weird green mist in this Lovecraftian short story.
This story was inspired by an actual live broadcast I went to last year. Of course, the results were quite different... This is what happens when an author's mind starts to wander.
Read an excerpt below!
The longer I looked, the less like smoke it seemed. It billowed and swirled as it extended slowly, moving in ways that made no sense given the closeness of the room. It was…it was strangely beautiful, really. As the smoke eddied it seemed to shimmer, throwing off light in faint bursts of luminescence that pulled the eye in one direction, then another.
If Trisha hadn’t screamed, I wouldn’t be here to tell you about this now.
But she did, and no by half measures either. I jerked around to look at her, feeling a very physical sense of vertigo as I turned, as if my eyes were velcroed to the mist and I’d just ripped them away. Trisha’s earphones lay on the ground, as far away from her as the wire would go, and she stared at them with wide, shocked eyes, her mouth open, the corners curled down and her lower lip trembling.
She was still facing the sound booth, her back to the hallway door. She said something, but I couldn’t make out the words. Later, someone told me it was, “There was nothing, and then people started screaming. I heard myself screaming.”
Copyright © 2010 Mercy Loomis
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