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Ash lives in a cursed town. Not in the metaphorical sense, shitty neighbours and back luck, rotten crops and harsh winds— okay his town does have harsh winds, but most importantly it has people consistently going missing for more than a hundred years.
Stupidly enough, way too many decided to stay, even as the numbers of traders coming in basically came to a halt, deeming the route too dangerous, even as living here quite literally means that every single day you have a pretty high chance of dying. Somehow that made people stick around and want to raise families here— he gets it though, there’s an odd sort of pride that comes from living in a place like this, desolate and dangerous. If you’re still alive at the end of the day you can easily say you’ve accomplished more than your shitty brother who moved to the city the moment he could, who you’ve been exchanging passive aggressive letters with ever since.
There’s way too many people like that here, and unfortunately it doesn’t help that they can’t exactly avoid the danger— it’s the water that’s the problem. What lives in it. Ash remembers very vividly being a child tagging along with his parents when they went to the nearby city, and being REALLY confused when the other kids running around did not share the same caution with bodies of water. Very awkward, it's a core memory.
It uh— becomes a bit tricky to avoid the water when your town consists of probably 75% fishermen, Ash included. And the other 25% of jobs is also water related, the town is so easily accessible after all, just. only via the water. which travellers refuse to touch— that’s fair enough he supposes. So yeah, cursed. Ash isn’t dead yet but he knows realistically he’s not gonna be dying of old age or something lame like illness.
Today, like usual, Ash is going fishing— genuinely S tier fish here, probably a result of a gap in the market where no one dares to go fishing with more than a tiny boat, something they can easily manoeuvre around with in case of danger. Ash has been doing this since he was a teenager, and honestly this far luck has been on his side, he’s only ever seen the fog from very afar.
No one knows why it started, or exactly when it did, just that one day a hundred odd years ago, a fog appeared on the water and there hasn’t been a clear day since. It moves unpredictably, coming and going whenever it so pleases, but never dissipating entirely. When you’re caught in it, you’re basically fucked, the number of people who escaped alive he can count on one hand.
…So maybe Ash should’ve paid more attention instead of daydreaming. When he startles out of his thoughts with his paddle hitting a rock at the lake floor, there’s fog creeping in, slowly closing around him. Fuck, he should’ve noticed much earlier. In front of him, his boat is slowly but surely floating towards the thickest fog he’s ever seen in his life. Behind him the sky is a lot clearer, the fog genuinely encircling him.
His hands grip around the handle as his eyes flicker about, scanning for danger. He has to go now, unwilling to find out how exactly people disappear in the fog. He only makes it a few paddles before stopping dead in his tracks— on the horizon, ever so faintly, he can see a figure, and oh shit they’re wayyy deeper into the fog than Ash is. He can’t see them very well but they’re in massive danger right now.
Going after them would be the death of him— and for a moment he just stays there, frozen, considering his options. He could run. Should run, by all means, it’s basically his only chance at getting out alive— but he can’t just sacrifice this person as bait while he escapes with his life. The fog growing ever thicker serves him as a reminder that he can’t just take his sweet time to decide.
Ash, above everything, has always been a bit impulsive. He starts rowing again, forward this time, as fast as he can, determined to escape with his life and someone else’s— he’s fast, maybe he can outrow the fog. Honestly he’s probably dying here anyways, and while that thought scares him he’s always kinda known it would happen like this, taken by the fog. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll make it out. That’d be nice.
No matter how furiously Ash rows, the figure on the horizon stays the same. They don’t get any closer or even any further just… stagnant. Watching almost. With a growing unease in his throat he slows down and eventually stops rowing entirely. And he thinks about it for a moment— there’s no islands around here, how would anyone be here at all, there’s not a boat in sight, yet someone is undoubtedly there. It looks like they’re walking on water, or perhaps hovering just above it. He should have reached them by now.
When he stopped, the fog started growing denser again (when did it stop? when he started rowing? cause he’s almost certain it didn’t stop when he was trying to get away), and the figure in the distance for the first time inches closer, almost as if taking a step and oh fuck oh shit that’s what’s been killing people oh god.
It draws closer, slowly at first, but progressively getting faster, dragging along the water and he can hear but not see the ripples it creates. Yeah okay so that means it can hurt him physically that’s great yeah nice to know.
Stupidly, his mind goes blank entirely and he calls out to the fog creature, “What’s your name?” His voice getting quieter towards the end of the sentence as he realises what the hell he just said. Not his fault his first instinct is to be polite! It works all the time against angry people, like the few times he’s visited the neighbouring town and almost got mugged. He uh— he just said it to the fog creature that’s been slowly murdering his town for a century. Yeah he’s so fucked.
The creature, for whatever reason, freezes. Which Ash thinks is very weird, cause despite its humanoid appearance he had just simply assumed that to be… a disguise, the lure for poor sailors like Ash who decided to be foolish and start rowing towards the imminent threat. He had considered it more animal-like, but here it is, freezing at the embarrassing shit Ash is saying (he’s SO glad no one else saw that, and that he’s gonna die now before he has to think about it any further).
For a moment, it’s just Ash and the fog, staring at each other. He’d call it world’s weirdest staring contest if he wasn’t pretty sure it has some sort of mind control powers but hey at least that’s probably making it easier to win this staring contest they’re not having. …Okay yeah it definitely has some sort of mind numbing abilities that’s. yeah.
It moves closer to him again, but something in its stance has shifted— nevertheless Ash’s heartbeat is pounding in his ears and he’s really eyeing the paddle as a potential weapon. It wouldn’t help but at least he’d die knowing he tried. Twenty or so metres away from him, it stops again, and oh wow it wasn’t even a trick of the light, they're just genuinely entirely made up out of fog. This close, he can almost hear their breathing— somehow, it’s like the sounds of the water have just entirely been filtered out. Maybe that’s what the fog is for. “Please don’t kill me.” He tries, stupidly, desperately— he’s meant to see his life flash before his eyes right?
Quietly, barely a whisper, but simultaneously echoing against the mist, the creature speaks. “...Squiddo.” Oh he’s dead for sure, he’s imagining this ‘cause what is that even supposed to mean?? “It’s… my name.” They clarify, almost as if reading his thoughts. Then again maybe he just has a very easily readable face.
“...Don’t kill me, please Squiddo.” He begs, thinking back to something he was once told— people listen more when you call them by their name. From the way Squiddo tilts their head with the most neutral expression possible, Ash has no fucking clue if it’s working. “I— I’ll leave you alone. Won’t ever touch the water again if that’s what you want, you won’t have to hear from me ever again. I'll try to convince everyone else to leave too but that I can’t promise.”
Squiddo breathes and the sound is heavy in the back of Ash’s head. “You know my name…” and now you must die. Squiddo talks slowly and with an almost calculating voice, like they haven’t spoken in— well about a century, if he had to guess. Every word sounds like a struggle to get out, voice raspy from disuse but soothed by the fog. “...Why would you ask for it?”
Which, at least it isn’t a threat. In fact, it sounds… weirdly human for a fog monster? He’s unwilling to tell the truth of ‘I actually didn’t mean to do that, my mouth just moved before my brain did lol’ so he makes up a lie on the spot. “I don’t know—” At least that part is honest. “—I wanted to know if you had one, if you were a person or not.” He’s so fucking scared right now.
Squiddo, in all her foggy glory, makes a hum of consideration. “And?”
“Uhh, you sure seem like one— a murderous one though if I’m being really honest, unless there’s like several fog creatures roaming about.”
“There’s not.” They clarify and Ash has to stop himself from shaking off the shivers, which feels absolutely horrible.
“Ah— that’s, okay yeah great.” Once more, his mouth is moving faster than his mind is. A panic response, he supposes, and if he makes it out of here alive he’ll work on that. “...But why though, why would you kill people?” Oh yeah top 10 questions to ask a murderer oh hey why don’t you stop killing people, just a suggestion ahah!
Squiddo, reasonably, squints their eyes at him. “It’s what ‘fog monsters’ do. What do you expect?”
Honestly he really hadn't thought of it like that, it's not like they’d be able to live in town like a normal person— do they have to eat? What if their diet is human meat, it’d explain a lot. He can’t fault them for killing people much then, he supposes, it’s only fair to want to live.
“Yeah, fair enough, you can kill me now I get it.” He wouldn't blame them. Squiddo doesn't answer him, lips pressed into a thin line as the fog stretches closer and closer until Ash can’t even see his boat anymore, only Squiddo’s eyes very faintly in the distance. He wonders if this is how most deaths happen— no hunt, no fear (okay well. he’s for sure scared right now so maybe a bit of fear), just explanations and agreements. Maybe this is all the mind control. Maybe he caught Squiddo off guard.
Somewhere between one blink and the next, Squiddo had disappeared from the fog and he hadn't noticed— at some point his eyes shut and it took the gentle sound of the waves rocking against the side of his boat to make him realise.
He’s… not in the fog anymore. It's just gone entirely and he’s alive. Furthermore— he’s somewhere he by all means should NOT be. It’s too far out, even if he had rowed the entire time instead of talking to Squiddo, he wouldn't have made it this far onto the lake. He’s also very certain he was not headed in this direction, neither when leaving town to go fishing or when making the foolish choice to row towards Squiddo (he had noble intent okay).
Maybe it wasn't that bad of a choice, because he’s never heard of anyone talking with the fog creature— with Squiddo. Ash didn't even know there was gonna be a person in the fog, and he can’t help but wonder if his life just got spared or if there’s an even bigger target on his back now.
Judging from the fish swimming nearby his boat, much larger quantities than any fishing spot he knows of, he might be able to guess the answer.