Tree branches scraped at his windows, a fiery storm twisted the outside and lightning created dancing shadows upon the walls of his study. It looked like any normal storm, but it didn't feel like it, something about it sent chills down his spine. Every snap of lightning and thunder made him jump enough to make him stop writing on his typewriter. It was cold, even though he had a fire brewing in the fireplace, it did nothing to calm his nerves, or keep the room warm. The typewriter clicks were drowned by the rain and claps of thunder, he couldn't even hear himself think. Something wasn't right; he could feel it. A storm was a storm, never bothered him before, but this time he was on edge, shaking as he slurped at his whiskey.
Each bash against the window reminded him of how he had lost the two people close to him, in this very house. He couldn't help but chug more whiskey and his mind replayed the events of one, eventful storm 10 years ago. It showed him how his wife and daughter were smiling and playing together in their field of a back garden until it came, the dreadful rain and the terrorizing thunder and lightning, a strange, black mist creeping in from the forest. Looking out his window, disturbed from his writing, all he saw was his wife and child running back to the house, then came what chilled him right to the bones, the screams of his family. By the time he had jumped out the open window the storm and the black mist had disappeared, along with his wife and only child. He scoured the whole garden and the whole forest, but they were nowhere to be found.
A familiar fog crept through the fireplace and he sighed contently. He knew this day would come.
He stood respectively, shaking a little and his glasses fogged with cold breath.
"At least let me say goodbye." He whispered almost completely silently. He was surprised at the fogs willingness to allow him such an act. He climbed up the wooden oak stairs and into his daughter's room, an oil lamp still flickering away on the bedside table, a small lump in the sheets fidgeted around and stopped on its back. He looked at the tiny face as he walked to the side of the bed, smiling lightly, he brushed a single blonde curl from her forehead and kissed her cheek, mouthing a goodbye under his breath. Next door was his and his wife's room. She lay asleep silently on her side, he stared at her with tears forming in his eyes. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to leave them alone. He bent down and kissed her forehead, holding his lips there for long seconds. Before he left, he slipped a folded piece of paper into her loosely clenched hand.
The fog wasn't in his study anymore, but at the bottom of the stairs which he hesitated to continue down. He sighed and clenched his fist, he wouldn't make this more difficult than it needs to be and wake up his family. He trembled down the stairs into the black fog, allowing it to envelop him. And then he was gone.
The Impala roared down the highway, playing mullet rock songs Dean sang along to, although he hadn't done so in a long time, his way of life had finally taken its toll on him and he had no energy to sing along anymore.