The Smog

Visibility was a huge challenge in the dense fog. The morning news had preferred to call it a smog. But she knew better than that.

The air was heavy with manipulation and deep conspiracies. She found herself gasping for breath. It was created to weaken clear vision, to make people stumble on their path, and facilitate smooth movement of the conspirators. The opponents had to be ambushed. She saw several figures moving around with gas masks on their faces, and she stepped into the car gingerly, while balancing herself on the sharp stilettos that screamed ‘Power’.

The only option was to darken herself – totally black. It didn’t matter if the color concealed all her goodness and her real identity, but it was her last move. The thought of being lost in oblivion scared the go-getter. She had toiled thanklessly for years, in the glamor world, and pined for Fame and Fortune. It would disarm the competition, and victory was assured.

The vision of the tree with its tentacles towering over the winter sky enraptured her. She clicked a picture, and asked the chauffeur to speed up. The audition began at 9 a.m, and the ‘casting couch’ awaited her.

Written for Thursday photo prompt – Fog #Writephoto