What's that that came out of the fog?

You woke up to silence.
Not disturbing, not ordinary - dead. No birds singing, no wind outside the window. Only thick, suffocating silence.

You get out of bed, lift the curtain – and freeze.
Behind the glass you can see nothing but a milky fog that seems to live its own life. It doesn't just cover the street - it presses, envelops, watches.

Somewhere far away a siren howled. Then a short, sharp crackle on the radio:

"...came out of the fog... don't come closer..."
The connection was lost.

You live on the outskirts. The nearest neighbor is a kilometer away in the forest. There is no phone reception. The Internet is dead. But the feeling that you are not alone becomes almost physical.

You put on your jacket, grab a flashlight from the shelf and a knife lying next to the tools, just in case.
You open the door.
A cold white wall of fog greets you. The air smells damp… and something else. Nasty, like meat that's been in the basement for a week.

You take a step forward.
From now on, it's just survival.