A Holiday Gone Awry

Vacations for the McKeogh family are few and far between. They don’t have too much money and, between raising five kids, what little they have is always spent on the essentials. So the unexpected - or completely expected in Faolán’s case, considering he’s been helping his parents save up for the last year and a half - trip to Longfen is a delight.

Well it would be, Faolán thinks, staring half longingly, half bitterly out of the log cabin’s window at the unending rain. If we ever get to spend some time outside.

There’s only so much time he can spend entertaining his little siblings, after all. But the weather doesn’t look like it’s getting better. In fact, he thinks he can see a mist rolling in. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before - a steely grey with wispy hints of red and white, swirling violently as the mist thickens. Almost like people - or ghosts, he thinks - slipping in between the trees that Faolán now has to strain to see.

Before he knows it, he can barely see two feet ahead when he looks out of the window. Everything in the cabin goes dark. Not that there was much natural light coming in before, but the thickness of the mist has trapped them in a shadow.

Faolán leaves his post to go turn on the light. It flickers to life, spilling bright orange life across the room. As he goes to return to the window he notices Fiona and Rónán have stolen his spot, pressing their faces up against the glass as if it might provide them with a better view.

“You know, if you do that for too long your faces are gonna get stuck,” Faolán says as he wanders over. The benefit of being the eldest means he’s taller than both Fiona and Rónán, so he has no problem glancing over their heads to see out the window.

“Will not,” Fiona replies, although the words are muffled.

“Uh huh…” Faolán would like to say something else, but movement outside catches his attention. Those wispy parts of the mist dance erratically now, zipping through the mist, sharp as they twist back and forth. Increasing intensity with every passing second. Then Faolán hears the faint crackle beyond the window, fizzing like static, and a few seconds later the light in the living room pops.

The three of them turn in unison, met with darkness. Fiona shrieks, Rónán freezes, and Faolán does what any older brother would in the same situation: he pulls them into a hug and swiftly moves them away from the window, trying to avoid going near any electrical equipment in the room based off a vague memory of where it might have been.

Every so often the room illuminates. A flash of brilliant white, or an eerie scarlet red, followed by a piercing, high-pitched whine.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” a voice calls out. It takes a moment to work through the panic, but Faolán recognises the voice as his mothers. Calm despite everything. “Faolán, is it just you in here?”

“No - Fee and Ró are here too.”

“Oh, good, thank goodness!” Another flash lights up the room. The silhouette of his mother is navigating her way over to them, painted like a ghost in the sudden light, before the moment passes and all is shadows once more. Less than ten seconds later, he feels a hand on his shoulder. “Come on kids, lets get you somewhere a little safer.”

“What was that?” Fiona asks. Faolán can feel both her and Rónán shaking in his arms.

“Static mist,” his mother says, as if that explains everything. “Now come on, your father’s with Dara and Niamh in the master bedroom. It’ll be safe for us in there. All you three have to do, my precious little saints, is be brave. Can you do that for me?”

As red fills the room once more, Faolán’s mother is met with a resounding chorus of affirmation.