As any good story starts lets start at the foot hills of that old mountain.

This story goes out to my old man, this is his story after all. Back in 1905 the mountain was just a regular old mountain,

There wasn't any real proof that there was tricksters and demons on that mountain, but as a boy my da thought he knew better then everyone.

As all adventurous ten year old's do, he went up the mountain, ill prepared and on top of the world he left his house early on a Saturday morning just as the sun was rising and his mama was starting on the chores, he snuck out the back door and started the hour trek to the foothill of the mountain.

It was a pretty chill summer day all things considered. The sun was rising, the clouds were making a beautiful tapestry out of that old sky full of the richest blues of night turning into the brightest of yellows unseen by man since the dawn of time.

My dad considered that a good day, considered it a sign of good luck that the day was starting so beautiful. Well... It was a sign.

Omens, such as the crow that watches you walk home after classes or the black cat who crosses your path are all considered omens of the things to come, unfortunately for my father, the omens of bad things to come decided to pay him a visit.

At the time he thought nothing of it in all honesty, back then crows and black cats hadn't become omens of the things to come yet.

Quickly after getting to the base of the mountain he noticed the chill in the air increase, it was mid summer when this happened so as you can imagine the weather had been fairly warm for the better half of two months. This sudden chill spooked him enough he nearly shat himself, least that's what he said, in my opinion he probably did.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Suddenly a massive fog comes in thick enough you can't see a foot in front of yourself, tinted a light green with flecks of iridescent gold floating in it. My dad took one look at this and said nope!

He hauled it on out of there, fast as he could, like an avalanche down the mountain he went, the wind at his back and the sun still rising, he fled calling for his mama with all his might.

Unfortunately for him, he went to the mountain on that day and even worse, the fog decided he was worth taking.

Sixty three years later he finally exited that fog.

Still the same as when he went in, nothing about him changed, still the same ten year old with a little too much daring. As he flew down the mountain he arrived home and saw everything covered in webs and foliage. All except for one building, where as everything he was used to was made of wood and hand made this place was a stark white stone with edges so clean they seemed impossible.

At the door was two featureless beings with eyes that reflected the sun, motionless in white armor they stood. Then they saw him and yelled halt. He said that was the scaredest he's ever been in his life, least till he was told he had been sent sixty three years in the future and realized all he loved and knew were dead, well maybe not his siblings but he didn't know that at the time.

The moral of the story is that the Lost Mountain isnt a safe place, if you see the fog at the base turn right around and come back another day.

The fog always takes its due