Tweet Fiction: Fog on the Snow Trails

Original Tweet: 

Skier's shadows cruise by through the fog below. Lift creaks ominously onward. The shadows morph, no longer skiers. Through the fog they rise

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Expanded Concept:

    The general mood of the mountain seemed far more sullen than usual. All of the energy that usually filled the place seemed to be missing. There were no kids skating through the landing zones, chatting happily with their friends about their last run. None of the usual nervous excitement from the novice skiers taking their first lesson and an unusual lack of enthusiasm from the instructors in front of them. Even the mother nature was refusing to bring light to the mountain today.

     A storm raged through the area last night bringing winds that the weather service was forced to put a warning out for. The fresh snow that fell prior to the storm was whipped up against the trees, creating frozen pillars of snow that stood like sentinels lined up along the numerous ski trails. All that was left from the storm were dense gray clouds that blocked any sign of the sun and a bitter wind that cut through his layers like they weren't even there. 

     There was no way he was going to let that bring him down, though. It had been ages since he's managed to get out here to the mountains and with the way work and life in general were going, it would be awhile more before he could return. Getting to the top of the mountain and breathing that air as he looked down upon everything would surely break him free from the oppressive feeling that was trying to drag him down until he could no longer break free.

     With his boots firmly locked into his skis and poles tied securely to his wrists, he skated over to the entrance to the lift that would take him to the top of a black diamond trail, typically the most secluded of all of the trains at this resort. The lift operator's eyes looked glassed over with a thousand yard stare, not even acknowledging him or checking for his lift pass as he was waved forward to take the next chair. He just shook his head as he hopped into the chair as it came by, this place had really gone downhill since his last visit. 

     To him, riding the lift up to the top of the mountain was nearly as enjoyable as the skiing down part. It was a handful of very valuable minutes where nothing else could get to him. It was just him, his thoughts, and the nature around him. A peaceful moment where he could just reset and these days those kind of moments were rare. While nearly lost in his own mind, he nearly missed the fog rolling down the mountain. It looked incredibly dense, as if he could scoop some of it up with his hands and take it with him.

     Skiing with low visibility was always a pain, but he's done it before so it didn't worry him too much. As he had that thought, the shadow of a skier shot down past the lift. Going far faster than was safe in this kind of visibility. Just as he was about to yell at the asshole who would put others at risk for their own hit of adrenaline, four more shadows shot past going just as fast. Must be some kids just having a race, he just hopped that nobody got hurt before they got their results. 

     Instead of worrying about it, he just leaned back and tilted his head to face the sky, causing it to rock slightly on the line. With a sigh he resigned himself. They weren't his problem and he wasn't about to stress himself out over it. Not on this trip. Instead he just closed his eyes, waiting to hear the bell near the top that signaled it was nearly time to get off. 

     Minutes passed, but the bell never came. Suddenly the chair jerked forward as it came to a stop surprising him and he nearly slipped out of the icy chair, but thankfully he'd ridden in the lifts so many times he knew to expect such a stop. Probably needed to be stopped because someone botched their exit off the chair or needed help getting on it, like the novices he saw practicing the in landing zone of the bunny hills. 

     With a deep sigh he relaxed back into the chair, content to just enjoy his alone time out here in nature. He went to close his eyes again, but was stopped as several more shadows zipped through the dense fog, heading down the mountain at a speed that could not be safe. How many speedsters were out today? Did he miss a memo or something? Then another group of shadows came by. 

     These ones were moving at a much more reasonable speed. Something was off and it made him feel unnerved. Their shadows were distorted as if they were speeding down the trail, but they were going a much more leisurely pace. As soon as those shadows faded into the fog, another set appeared to be coming down, but they were just crawling forward, even coming to a stop just under his lift. Was it the Ski Patrol? Was there something wrong with the lift and they needed to give him instructions on how to get down?

     A chill immediately shot through his spine as a realization hit him like an avalanche. Even though those skiers from before were blazing down the trails, there was no familiar sound of skis cutting into the snow. With there being a thin layer of ice of the top of the powder today, it would have been incredibly loud. And yet he heard nothing. Something incredibly wrong was going on, but he was trapped up here. Never before had he felt so helpless.

     The shadows began shifting and circling around the lift below him, the fog appeared to be so thick that he still could not make out their forms. From the way they moved there was no way they were skiing. Without realizing it, he had begun to hold his breath and his lungs were beginning to burn. Too afraid to move a single muscle, even to breath, he froze there in that chair while watching the shadows shift and spin below him.

     An eternity later, the shadows finally began to descend down the mountain. As they faded into the fog, he let took in a the largest breath he could muster. The icy air soothing to his burning lungs. The relief was short lived, as the second he took that breath an ear piercing scream echoed from beyond the fog, from where those shadows just faded. 

     And then they returned, no longer at the crawling pace they appeared initially. Instead they picked up all the speed that their fellow shadows showed possible. Unlike the others, they did not stick the mountain. They rose off of the mountain, making a direct sprint up to where he sat, frozen from both fear and the unnatural sudden chill they seemed to bring with them. 

     He was allowed only a brief view of them as they broke the dense fog. Their faces shifted and morphed endlessly, showing visages of horror, fear, repulsion, and desperation. Bodies never seeming to take form, only seeing glimpses of what could be considered limbs, though elongated and misshapen they were. Before even a yelp of terror could escape his throat, they were through him and gone. 

     As they disappeared back into the fog, the lift began to move. The chair once again ascending to the top of the mountain. It was nearly to the top when it stopped, so only a short trip remained. The bell sounded as they approached the top lift station, reminding those who were riding they needed to disembark soon. The lift attendant looked up as the bell rang, but much like the attendant at the bottom his eyes were glazed over, looking at the chair but not really seeing it. As the chair arrived he motioned for the riders to disembark.

In his current state, he didn't realize that there was nobody left in the chair.