Carriages following forgotten paths, unpaved by cement

Their wheels clanking over the dust, which is kicked up by passers by

The drivers, tired from weeks, maybe years of travel, about to fall asleep from lack of rest

Their heads bobbing from tiredness

Barely a man lives in the town, everyone has gone

But there is still one man, wandering into a fog

This fog, is a forgotten shadow, yet to be crossed

But the man is daring

He goes swiftly through the fog, turning into a ghost

Vanishing into thin air

Never to return

***

Years later, the man comes again

Back through the fog from which he came, a shell of a man

He is now undead, living past his life span of fifty years

Because they didn't live long in the time when he lives

The town is deserted

Not a man in sight

But that is good, because they'd all run in fright

The man tries to find his home, forgotten and lost

Yet there is no trace, not of anything

Then he checks in his wife's house, which is still wide open

The door swinging crookedly on its hinges

The man goes through the door, and surveys the arena

Of forgotten objects, never to have a meaning again

Then he spots the note, old, maybe years

Cobwebs and spiders crawling upon the tattered paper

He picks it up, dusts it off, and reads

Don't come back, ever, for I am gone and you have ceased to exist. Nobody remembers you but I, and should you return there will be nobody but I.

And the man shivers, and turns around

And sees the woman, in the white gown, her expression not quite a frown

And she lunges, he backs away, through the doors

Until another day