For Inktober, Friday,October 30, 2020. Prompt word: "ominous." Tuckerization: GregorySalter

A reminder that volunteering for tuckerization onlymeans a character in the story shares the participant's name. Other than that, nosimilar characteristics are implied. 

This story is a continuation of the city storiesthat began with Sarkomand in Some Would Call it Worthless and continued in TheLibrary.

Fogbound

by AlanLoewen

Gregory Salter continued his trek toward the west,following the road until the city-sized library was merely a speck in thedistance. Having escaped the ennui of Sarkomand, he left the Library behindto see what might lay ahead of him.

The plethora of books he read was fascinating, andhe was enchanted with the hundreds of lives he had lived, but after a while, henoticed, to his growing horror, that his real life began to disappear in countlessincarnations. When Gregory discovered the basement filled with living skeletons, impulsively grabbing and reading one book after another, he filled an improvised backpack with food andwater and fled.

With the weather warm and comfortable, Gregorypassed the next two nights comfortably on the eastbound road, using only the canopy oftrees as his only shelter.

It disturbed him that he had met no other people onthe road, and the woods bordering it were eerily silent, devoid of the usual sounds of animals and birds. However,he continued his journey, and on the third day, he found himself walking into amist that soon turned into a thick fog. Still able to see the road under hisfeet, he wondered if he should turn back but decided to soldier on. To bolsterhis courage, he found a thick branch in the woods that doubled as a walkingstick and an improvised cudgel.

To his relief, he came to a set of city gates setin a stone wall. The fog was so thick that it was impossible to guess theirheight. Cautiously, he stepped past the entrance, surprised to see no people on thecobblestone street before him.

It was only until he walked a reasonable distance that he saw people furtively moving through the mist. They occasionallyglanced at him but continued on whatever personal missions they had. None ofthem seemed willing to stop and talk to him, even though he tried to stop a few to ask questions.

He decided to avoid the dark stores with large empty windows, and though he was tempted to knock on the doors of the brownstone houses, he continued his trek through the fog.

A sign above a door gave him hope of findinganswers to this weird city that had entered. The Cobblestone Pub beckoned him,and when he walked through the door, the patrons, sitting at the scattered round,wooden tables or leaning against the bar, turned as one to stare at him. Withinseconds, they lost interest in him and either returned to their whispered conversationsor turned to stare sullenly into their mugs.

Wishing to stay invisible, Gregorymade his way to the bar. He beckoned to the barkeep, who came and silently stoodbefore him with raised eyebrows.

“Excuse me, sir, but …” Gregory began, but the maninterrupted him.
“You came from the Library,” the barkeep whispered. “You should have stayed thereor returned to Sarkomand.” Stunned into silence, Gregory stood there as thebarkeep turned and filled a mug with a dark liquid.

“On the house,” the barkeep said. “You’ll have tofind a job to pay for your livelihood. There’s a guesthouse just down thestreet. They’ll take you in until you settle. Just don’t be out in the fog whennight truly comes.”

“But,” Gregory stuttered. “I’m just moving on.”

A grim smile came to barkeep’s face. “Bad news, newcomer.Those who enter this city can never leave. Surely, they told you at the Librarythat no one ever returns from following the eastern road.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Gregory snarled. “Thegate I entered is just down the street from where I entered. I can leaveanytime I want.”

The barkeep shook his head slowly. “When you walkedthrough the gate, it changed into a solid, unclimbable wall. It was the same for all of us. There is no escape. Now, drink your beer and get to the guesthouse. We’rean hour away from nightfall. I have no rooms to let, and I don’t want yousleeping on a table.”

“What …” Gregory said. “What happens at night?”
The barkeep shrugged. “People just disappear. Sometimes, we hear screams whensome idiot loses track of time and doesn’t find shelter. Now, let me be. I havework to do.”

The barkeeper turned away to check on other patrons,leaving Gregory staring at his own beer mug. Tentatively, he took a sip, and hungerand thirst made him drain the mug dry.

Uncomfortable with the silence, Gregory shoulderedhis knapsack and made his way to the guesthouse.

True to the barkeep's word, he was taken in andgiven a week to find a job and a place to live.

Also, the barkeep spoke truth about the gate. Gregorynever found the entrance where he had entered or any way to leave. The stone walls surrounding the city were smooth asglass, and when he tried to talk to people about building a ladder to find the topof the fog-shrouded walls, they stared at him and passed on.

He found work with a mushroom farmer, as thevarious types of fungus were the only edibles that would grow in a cityperpetually covered in fog. A two-room flat became his new home, and he quicklylearned to avoid being out at night in the ominous fog. Occasionally, Gregory wouldbe awakened by a distant scream of some victim of the night, and he would tremblein his bed until the morning, unable to return to sleep.

Countless years later, Gregory shuffled his waythrough the streets like the other citizens of the city. He never learned thename of the fogbound city. It was a mystery, a town without a name.

One evening, Gregory sat at his small dinner tableand quietly spooned tasteless soup into his mouth. He blinked his eyes andshook his head. A sudden realization came to him. He hated this city more thananything. He hated his life, day by day, digging mushrooms out of offal and trudging homebefore the dreaded night claimed him.

He quietly put his spoon down and shuddered. Betteran end to this nameless purgatory than another day of soul-crushing ennui.

Gregory got up, tucked his chair into its place bythe table, and walked outside into the fog.

As night quickly descended. Gregory swallowed histerror and waited quietly.

He gritted his teeth until he feared they wouldcrack under the pressure of his jaws, but he clenched his fists and refused tomove, ignoring the other people fleeing to shelter.

Complete darkness crept upon him, and Gregory felt acosmic cold envelope his body. He could not help it when a nameless dreadmade him turn toward his door for shelter, but it was too late.

He felt gravity reverse, and Gregoryfell into the sky with a shriek.

He plunged heavenward, tumbling through the fog until he was above the clouds in a maddening fall upwards. He suddenly saw the stars. As he was swallowed up in their glory, Gregory, in his terror, abruptly realized he had discovered a way to leave the city after all.