As the new day dawned, Lindy stood on the balcony of her condo in Hilton Head and watched the sun come up over the ocean. For a few seconds the world was cast in pink. Tiny clouds formed a network of while lace in front of the glow, then a long v-shaped parade of pelicans gllided by and gently tipped the white capped waves.
She dressed in new white shorts and halter, grabbed her sunglasses and hurried out to the beach for a walk. The sun warmed her bare shoulders and the soft sand cushioned her feet. The tide had been in leaving behind a line of seashells where it had crested, and then receded. She looked awestruck at the vast expanse of blue water and wondered what foreign country it reached to. Probably Morocco, she thought. She walked on, the shells crunching under her feet, lost in the beauty of her surroundings and feeling the marvelous freedom. And caught up in the magnificence, she didn't notice the fog that had begun to roll in. She was several miles out when the sun suddenly dimmed and the curtain of gray caught up with her. In a matter of minutes it had enclosed around her. She stopped and watched in horror as it swept past her spiraling over the beach, then stood still as it smothered her in dampness.
Everything disappeared; the sky, the beach and the water. Then she realized the landmarks were gone as well. The silence was only broken by the crashing waves as the Atlantic Ocean seemed to be closing in.
Should she scream? Would anyone hear her?
Her clothes hung wet and her hair in wispy strands. When she looked down she could see her shoes, but when she extended her arm out her fingers disappeared in the heavy mist. She dropped down to her knees in the sand, boxed in on all sides by the heavy drape. Her breath caught in her throat as she huddled on the beach, her hands splayed over the seashell. It seemed as if hours went by as Lindy sat immobilized in fear, afraid to move, lost and alone in a foreign world.