Juliana Brandt - Monsters in the Mist

The windows of the Third Keepers home at Graving Lighthouse quivered, restless in their frames as the wind outside crept against their edges and tried to sneak in. White fog swirled, tendrils snaking together to form two gaping holes at the center of the window. A small slit grew beneath them, almost as if a thin smile were widening beneath night-black eyes. The fog grinned at Glennon McCue.

Walking into the dining room on soft-soled shoes, Glennons mother set down the last part of supper before hima casserole dish with an assortment of vegetables he didnt want to eat. The scent of brussels sprouts and green beans combined with the tang of wet lake air outside. It mixed into a sickly-sweet scent that made his stomach churn.

Lovely evening out, isnt it? Mom poured tea for herself, placing one delicate hand atop the pot to hold the lid steady.

Glennon glanced dubiously outside the window. Fingerlings of wind clawed at the windows and rattled the glass.

Wind sprites, Leeunah murmured beside him.

Dont say that. Wind sprites arent real, Glennon said. It was their dad who usually told his sister the difference between real and imaginary, but since he was overseas for work, the job was left to Glennon. Half the time he didnt know what mythology or folklore Lee referred to, but he did know he was supposed to remind her that magical creatures werent real.

Ill talk about them all I like, Lee said.

Dad wouldnt like it.

Dad isnt here .

He started to tell Lee that just because Dad wasnt there, didnt mean they shouldnt still obey him, but the stairs opposite the small dining room creaked and down the uneven steps came Uncle Job. He was a big man, with shoulders that brushed the edges of door frames when he passed through them. Up until a few months before, hed worked at a lighthouse on the coast of Lake Superior, but a tremendous storm with massive waves had flooded the lighthouse and broken apart the flooring. Thats how Uncle Job ended up on Isle Philippeaux; hed been transferred while the lighthouse was being fixed. Harsh red lines roped up Uncle Jobs right arm, scars from the injuries hed sustained during the accident.

Uncle Job sat at the head of the table. As he did, he glanced at each of the chairs and their occupants beside him. A frown wrinkled the chapped skin between his brows. It was as if he wasnt quite sure how hed ended up with guests in his home, even though hed been the one to invite them.

Glennons dad had traveled overseas for teaching fellowships loads of times before. Usually when he left, the family moved from their home in Minneapolis and into Glennons grandmothers house. Shed passed away last year, though, and so this time, Mom had moved them north to her brothers house. Each time his dad left, the length of the trip grew. One week at first, which turned into three on the next trip. One month which turned into two months. This current fellowship was supposed to last throughout the whole fall semester. The McCue family had arrived at Graving Lighthouse on Isle Philippeaux at the beginning of September and were supposed to leave on December 20thjust four days awaybefore the ferry stopped running for winter and before their dad would get home for Christmas.

Mom set her teacup on its tiny saucer and then placed her hands in her lap. Lee sat much the same way, her back straight, as if she could sit still and proper for as long as needed. Glennon itched inside, all of his rigid muscles begging to be let loose and wiggle every which way. He felt ready to burst. Everyone waited, until at last, Uncle Job heaved a gusty sigh and tucked into the food spread across the table.

Glennon missed his dad. He always filled the dinner table with chatter. Without the distraction, all Glennon heard was the howl of wolves outside the house. Its not wolves. He pierced a bean with his fork. Its the wind.

But still, the high-pitched, yearning wail that slid through the cracks in the window frames set the hairs on the back of Glennons neck upright.

GA-ROOOO! The massive foghorn in the lighthouse not two hundred feet from them blew. The sound ripped through the air, and Glennon clapped his hands over his ears.

Lee jumped. All of her proper posture slid straight out of her, her frame turning into crinkled paper, elbows folding in and back hunching over and mouth snapping closed to suck air through her nose. Lee collapsing in on herself happened nearly too fast for Glennon to track; a blur at the edge of his vision revealed her tucking her skinny body beneath the table.

Moms china rattled with the force of Lees disappearance. She placed one long-fingered hand atop the pieces to stop their shivering while Glennon looked beneath the table for Lee. She was already gone, though, vanished from the dining room as if she hadnt been there to begin with.

The foghorn sounded again. GA-ROOOO! When Lake Superior covered the isle with mist, lighthouse keepers used the horn so sailors could identify Isle Philippeauxs location and avoid running into the island.

Uncle Jobs massive hand appeared before Glennon. Resting in the center were two pairs of bright purple disposable earplugs. Glennon shoved two into his ears, and the ugly sounds outside dampened. Uncle Job shook his hand, making the remaining earplugs dance in his palm, and glanced in the direction Lee disappeared. At home, no one was supposed to check on Lee when she gave into her panicked flights; she was supposed to figure out how to calm down on her own. This was Uncle Jobs house, though, not his dads house, and an entirely different set of rules existed here. Muscles tense, he reminded himself that no one would yell at him for helping Lee, snatched up the two other earplugs, and left the table to search for Lee in the coat closet beneath the stairs.