They live in the mist, in the fog. They live where we can see them, yes, but only where we can choose not to admit it. The woods, the dells, the hollows...
They watch us from these places unseen or, if seen, misattributed. They never linger long enough for a second glance. The face in the leaves, just leaves when you look again. The shape in the fog that turns out to be something else altogether. You were right the first time.
They're out there watching, hiding in the branches, skulking under bridges, perched on ledges, crouched between the roots, or standing in the open, in the mist. They live where we can see them, but never do.
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