Prompt: Write about a misty day.
It was as if some evil was creeping over the land. The fog of the morning had thinned by midday, but the mist still hung in the air, obscuring the trees and blending them into each other. It blurred the boundaries between objects. Landmarks ran together like wet paint dripping down a canvas. As if a person could disappear into the mist, becoming a part of the eerie, floating cloud.