295 Number 12

A cold dread washed over Number 12's body and against every bone in his body, he pulled himself from the trance of the mirror.

In the forest, a rotten stench of wind blew in. The leaves shook, as if afraid of what was coming. The fog was almost human as it came.

It slowly came from all directions, very slowly but instantly drowned them. Numerous strange creatures flashed through the fog, like beings that had already been devoured before assimilating into the cold and wet Grey.

It was at the door of the cave and was moving slowly towards them, Number 12 looked back and it was as if the darkness of the fog was similar to the beauty of the mirror. They were both entrancing.

The horrible stench rushed into his mouth, nose, and eardrums, torturing his mind so that he could hardly breathe.

Number 12 raised his hand to his mouth and bit hard enough. His mouth filled with the stench of blood and the destabilizing pain that came right after cleared his mind.