Whispering Fog, A Time Travel, Historical Fiction
One fall night a mystifying fog captures a young girl from the 20th century and a captain of an old sailing ship from the 18th century bringing them together.
On an unusual foggy night in 1959, Belinda sees an image out in the sea, a ship of years ago, begins her descent into the misty vapor climbing down the steep, rocky cliff to help the ship’s crew, and falls literally into the whispering fog.
Did the story end that night for Belinda when she fell down the cliff, or was it a dream of a young girl? On foggy nights, fishermen have heard an old ship’s bell tolling and voices from the fog whispering Belinda’s name.
WHISPERING FOG a Time Travel
PURCHASE
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Marsha Rhodes Editor of Diann's Novels
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Joe Miles is the cover artist for Whispering Fog
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"Whispering Fog original art work by Joe Miles
Read an excerpt from
WHISPERING FOG
The Adventure of the Aeolus,
“Keeper of the Wind”
Chapter One
Harbor Towne, Maine
Monday, October 13th, 1959
Voices called my name. I couldn’t answer. My throat was chocking me. I couldn’t scream anymore. My beating heart pounded in my ears as my body plummeted through the misty air, not graceful as a seagull diving for a fish in the sea, but more as a ragdoll with arm and legs flapping wildly. Weightlessness had taken over. I couldn’t stop myself. I became frozen in fear. Total darkness was all around me until a bright…
Johnny waved his hand in the air trying to get the attention of the young girl deep in thought sitting across the kitchen table from him. The flickering flames of the birthday candles sparkled in her eyes.
“Belinda,” Johnny called out. His long body leaned across the table gently patting the formica top with his fingers. “Well, have you made your wish?” He chuckled, tapping even louder on the tabletop. “You’d better blow out the candles before the cake catches on fire.”
Belinda pulled her eyes away from the shimmering flames of the candles. She felt a chill in the air and tugged her new, pink sweater up around her neck, her birthday gift from her father. She shivered, a shiver that started from the bottom of her feet ending when her head quivered, bringing her thoughts back. She swished away the curls of long blonde hair from her face. Quickly, she leaned her head over the two-layer white icing cake, with its green buttercream swirls piped on the sides. Taking in one long deep breath, she blew out the twenty multicolored-striped candles leaving a swirling cloud of smoke.
“Happy birthday Katelynn Belinda Brady,” Johnny said proudly. He carefully lifted each of the candles from the birthday cake that he’d purchased along with the birthday meal from Miss Sophia’s bakery and deli.
Johnny’s tall body reclined against the back of the kitchen chair making it squeak. His eyes stayed fixed on Belinda. He’d been in love with Belinda all of his life, and the gossipy women around the small town of Harbor Towne, Maine, including his mom, had wondered why the two hadn’t married. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he continued to stare wondering the same thing. It wasn’t because he hadn’t tried, but every time he brought up marriage, Belinda would discreetly change the subject. Now that she’d turned twenty, he believed things would change or at least he hoped they would.
Belinda smiled back at Johnny noticing he was deep in thought. She knew she couldn’t resist the tan face of the butternut haired boy, who’d been her best friend, her confidante, since the first grade in Mrs. Jones’s class. She’d never had many friends growing up in the small town of Harbor Towne and living miles from town on Franklin’s Cliff next to the tall lighthouse, didn’t help her socially. It seemed the girls in her class at school had always been jealous of her and the boys were afraid of her because she was too headstrong. Except Johnny, he knew she was stubborn, bullheaded, and nothing anyone said or did would change her mind. But, today her impetuousness was waning and she didn’t like how that feeling felt.
Johnny stood from his chair. He hurried to the cabinet hanging next to the sink and pulled out two of his mom’s plates with blue flowers on the edges. The knife slid into the cake. He stopped briefly waving the knife in the air as his eyes peered out from under his long hair. “That must’ve been a hell of a wish – it sure took you awhile.”
“I’m sorry Johnny,” she replied. Her fingers strummed nervously tapping her nails in an odd rhythm on the table. “My dream I had last night keeps haunting me.”
“Ohhhhhhh, the dream about falling?”
“Yes.”
Johnny leaned over the table and stared into Belinda’s eyes. “Awwww, you know what a dream about falling means. You’ve lost control of something in your life and you’re trying to grasp, cling to something or maybe someone…”
“Johnny,” she interrupted, “no more therapy sessions and I haven’t lost control. I’m fine.”
“I can’t help it, I am a psychology major. Remember, I’m here to help.”
She smiled back at him. “You know my mind won’t stop thinking about what happened last night.”
“What about it?” he questioned with a puzzled look on his face. He sat back in the kitchen chair. “Oh, it’s about the strange lights and sounds you heard out by the lighthouse; you need to let it go. That’s just superstitious rot.”
“I can’t,” she shivered again tugging her sleeves of her sweater down to her cupped hands. “It gives me the chills when I think about it – there was something that....” Her voice trailed off as Johnny moaned.
“Ur,” grunted Johnny, “you’ve just got a very strong imagination and living on that cliff by the tall lighthouse all of your life isn’t helping.” He wanted to add, and you need to marry me and move away from that lighthouse, but he bit his lip stopping the words from coming out.
“I know my imagination is going wild, but…” “Belinda,” Johnny interrupted still holding onto the large knife covered in soft moist cake, “there wasn’t anyone out on the water that late at night, especially in a thick fog.” His head shook no. “Tales of a whispering fog swallowing ships and people are only tall tales from sailors who’ve been living too long at sea and drinking too much rum.” He drew his shoulders back against the slats of the straight back chair. His eyes squinted giving her a strong look. “The stories aren’t real. Maybe the movie we watched at the drive-in last Saturday night stirred up your imagination.”
“No, the movie didn’t bother me and I know real from fiction,” she snapped back at him getting annoyed. She studied Johnny’s exasperated face and knew she was pushing his patience telling her tales about what she’d seen on her cliff last night. A foolish feeling came over her; it was silly to be so concerned about a silly dream and a foggy night. She’d spent hundreds of foggy nights on her cliff, so why did the fog last night worry her? Maybe her Granddad Elias’s story about a mysterious whispering fog was making her imagination work overtime and Johnny was correct. No one would be out in the sea on a foggy night. The answer of what happened last night was simple. The shadows she’d seen swishing on the water were from the light of the lighthouse bouncing off the fog, and the soft muffled sounds weren’t whispering voices at all, but the sound of the wind whistling up the side of the cliff.
Harbor Towne, Maine
Monday, October 13th, 1959
Voices called my name. I couldn’t answer. My throat was chocking me. I couldn’t scream anymore. My beating heart pounded in my ears as my body plummeted through the misty air, not graceful as a seagull diving for a fish in the sea, but more as a ragdoll with arm and legs flapping wildly. Weightlessness had taken over. I couldn’t stop myself. I became frozen in fear. Total darkness was all around me until a bright…
Johnny waved his hand in the air trying to get the attention of the young girl deep in thought sitting across the kitchen table from him. The flickering flames of the birthday candles sparkled in her eyes.
“Belinda,” Johnny called out. His long body leaned across the table gently patting the formica top with his fingers. “Well, have you made your wish?” He chuckled, tapping even louder on the tabletop. “You’d better blow out the candles before the cake catches on fire.”
Belinda pulled her eyes away from the shimmering flames of the candles. She felt a chill in the air and tugged her new, pink sweater up around her neck, her birthday gift from her father. She shivered, a shiver that started from the bottom of her feet ending when her head quivered, bringing her thoughts back. She swished away the curls of long blonde hair from her face. Quickly, she leaned her head over the two-layer white icing cake, with its green buttercream swirls piped on the sides. Taking in one long deep breath, she blew out the twenty multicolored-striped candles leaving a swirling cloud of smoke.
“Happy birthday Katelynn Belinda Brady,” Johnny said proudly. He carefully lifted each of the candles from the birthday cake that he’d purchased along with the birthday meal from Miss Sophia’s bakery and deli.
Johnny’s tall body reclined against the back of the kitchen chair making it squeak. His eyes stayed fixed on Belinda. He’d been in love with Belinda all of his life, and the gossipy women around the small town of Harbor Towne, Maine, including his mom, had wondered why the two hadn’t married. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he continued to stare wondering the same thing. It wasn’t because he hadn’t tried, but every time he brought up marriage, Belinda would discreetly change the subject. Now that she’d turned twenty, he believed things would change or at least he hoped they would.
Belinda smiled back at Johnny noticing he was deep in thought. She knew she couldn’t resist the tan face of the butternut haired boy, who’d been her best friend, her confidante, since the first grade in Mrs. Jones’s class. She’d never had many friends growing up in the small town of Harbor Towne and living miles from town on Franklin’s Cliff next to the tall lighthouse, didn’t help her socially. It seemed the girls in her class at school had always been jealous of her and the boys were afraid of her because she was too headstrong. Except Johnny, he knew she was stubborn, bullheaded, and nothing anyone said or did would change her mind. But, today her impetuousness was waning and she didn’t like how that feeling felt.
Johnny stood from his chair. He hurried to the cabinet hanging next to the sink and pulled out two of his mom’s plates with blue flowers on the edges. The knife slid into the cake. He stopped briefly waving the knife in the air as his eyes peered out from under his long hair. “That must’ve been a hell of a wish – it sure took you awhile.”
“I’m sorry Johnny,” she replied. Her fingers strummed nervously tapping her nails in an odd rhythm on the table. “My dream I had last night keeps haunting me.”
“Ohhhhhhh, the dream about falling?”
“Yes.”
Johnny leaned over the table and stared into Belinda’s eyes. “Awwww, you know what a dream about falling means. You’ve lost control of something in your life and you’re trying to grasp, cling to something or maybe someone…”
“Johnny,” she interrupted, “no more therapy sessions and I haven’t lost control. I’m fine.”
“I can’t help it, I am a psychology major. Remember, I’m here to help.”
She smiled back at him. “You know my mind won’t stop thinking about what happened last night.”
“What about it?” he questioned with a puzzled look on his face. He sat back in the kitchen chair. “Oh, it’s about the strange lights and sounds you heard out by the lighthouse; you need to let it go. That’s just superstitious rot.”
“I can’t,” she shivered again tugging her sleeves of her sweater down to her cupped hands. “It gives me the chills when I think about it – there was something that....” Her voice trailed off as Johnny moaned.
“Ur,” grunted Johnny, “you’ve just got a very strong imagination and living on that cliff by the tall lighthouse all of your life isn’t helping.” He wanted to add, and you need to marry me and move away from that lighthouse, but he bit his lip stopping the words from coming out.
“I know my imagination is going wild, but…” “Belinda,” Johnny interrupted still holding onto the large knife covered in soft moist cake, “there wasn’t anyone out on the water that late at night, especially in a thick fog.” His head shook no. “Tales of a whispering fog swallowing ships and people are only tall tales from sailors who’ve been living too long at sea and drinking too much rum.” He drew his shoulders back against the slats of the straight back chair. His eyes squinted giving her a strong look. “The stories aren’t real. Maybe the movie we watched at the drive-in last Saturday night stirred up your imagination.”
“No, the movie didn’t bother me and I know real from fiction,” she snapped back at him getting annoyed. She studied Johnny’s exasperated face and knew she was pushing his patience telling her tales about what she’d seen on her cliff last night. A foolish feeling came over her; it was silly to be so concerned about a silly dream and a foggy night. She’d spent hundreds of foggy nights on her cliff, so why did the fog last night worry her? Maybe her Granddad Elias’s story about a mysterious whispering fog was making her imagination work overtime and Johnny was correct. No one would be out in the sea on a foggy night. The answer of what happened last night was simple. The shadows she’d seen swishing on the water were from the light of the lighthouse bouncing off the fog, and the soft muffled sounds weren’t whispering voices at all, but the sound of the wind whistling up the side of the cliff.
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