A short story I wrote for a class assignment. I got "Whisper in the City" as the prompt.
Streetlights flickered on in the street as night began to fall. The dim lights barely cut through the dense fog curling around everything in the city. The occasional passerby hurried home, furtively glancing at every corner and alley, and clutching their purses and bags tightly. Constant news headlines had left most citizens scared of any shadow that could be hiding the loaming danger in the city.
People had been disappearing for weeks. There seemed to be no pattern or connection between victims. People disappeared in back alleys and on the busiest roads. Rich and poor, young and old, any gender – no one was safe. Valuables from the victims would appear in various pawn and thrift shops, but the owners would have no record of the items.
With no evidence, the detectives were left with little to work with. Distraught loved ones hired private detectives and plastered Missing posters around the city. The thick fog that settled over the city each night dampened the posters, bleeding the images of missing friends into each other.
Sam was walking to the store that night. He didn’t like being out so late at night, but his roommate had a cold and needed tissues and medicine. He pulled his coat tighter as the wind blew, rustling all the posters on the nearby lamppost. A strong gust ripped a poster into the air, and Sam got a brief glance of the face on it before it blew away.
He arrived at the corner store that was open 24/7. He grabbed the overpriced tissues and cough syrup and headed to the counter. As he waited in line he listened to the news report on the cashier’s radio. “It’s been a couple days since the last disappearance. The police are hoping this is a good sign…”
“Someone I knew disappeared.” Sam turned around to the person behind him in line. “My friend’s sister never came home from work two weeks ago. Just the other day he found her watch at a pawn shop.”
“Oh…wow. I, uh, hope they find her.” Sam wasn’t prepared for a conversation; he just wanted to get home and go to sleep.
“I don’t think they will, I mean…”
“Next!” Sam had never been so happy to checkout. He paid and grabbed his bag, hurrying out before anyone else could strike up a conversation.
The fog had gotten even thicker while Sam was in the store. He trudged through, wary of any muffled noise he heard through the mist. He swore he could hear something, almost as if someone were whispering his name.
“Sam. Saamm. Sssaaammm.”
The fog swirled tightly around Sam.
An hour later a man was hurrying home from work when he tripped on Sam’s bag from the convenience store. He looked around, and seeing no-one picked up the bag, and continued home.