The Fog (by Lady Eckland)

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### Part One: The Fog

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### Part One: The Fog

The drilling rig, *Titan's Reach*, stood like a lone sentinel in the vast, open sea, its towering derrick outlined against the twilight sky. The crew, a hardened group of men and women accustomed to the ocean's whims, worked tirelessly atop the platform that pierced the ocean's depths.

As night descended, a dense, creeping fog began to roll in from the east, swallowing the horizon in its ghostly embrace. The air grew chill, and the sea calmed as if holding its breath. The rig's lights flickered eerily, casting long shadows that danced across the wet steel decks.

"Ever seen anything like this?" shouted Mike, the rig's chief engineer, over the howling wind that began to whip through the structure.

Jenna, a geologist and the newest member of the crew, pulled her coat tighter around her. "No, it's... unnatural. Look how it moves against the wind."

As the fog enveloped *Titan's Reach*, the usual clanking of machinery and shouting of orders were muffled into an oppressive silence. Then, the noises started—soft at first, like whispers in the distance. The sound of metal groaning under unseen stress echoed through the fog, followed by a series of low, mournful wails that seemed to come from the ocean itself.

"Did you hear that?" Jenna asked, her voice barely a whisper, as she and Mike stood by the starboard railing, peering into the impenetrable white mist.

"Yeah," Mike replied, his eyes scanning the murky air. "Sounds like... crying."

"It's just the rig settling," interjected Sam, the captain, approaching them with a skeptical frown. "Old *Titan's Reach* always sings when a storm's coming."

But Jenna wasn't convinced. The sounds were too structured, too intentional. As she listened, the cries grew louder, more desperate. Then, something new—thumps and scrapes beneath their feet, from the very bowels of the rig.

"Something's down there," Jenna said, her voice tense.

"Probably just the drill bit hitting a new layer of rock," Sam suggested, but his tone lacked conviction.

Suddenly, the platform shuddered violently, knocking them off-balance. The lights flickered more aggressively, and the electronic equipment started to whine as if in pain.

"That's no drill bit," Mike yelled, grabbing onto the railing. "We've hit something else!"

The crew gathered, unease turning into fear. The fog seemed to press in closer, the temperature dropping as the noises grew louder, more frantic. Then, a loud, piercing shriek cut through the air, silencing everyone.

"Man overboard!" someone screamed from the direction of the derrick.

Without hesitation, the crew sprang into action, launching a lifeboat into the roiling waters below. The fog was so thick now that they could barely see the man overboard, just a shadow flailing in the water.

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