Fiction: Red Mist by Christian Barragan
- Christian Barragan
- 2 days ago
- 5 min read
Updated: 2 days ago

Photo Source: Unsplash
Gareth fidgeted on the couch as the crimson cloud knocked on the front door. He fiddled with his gas mask as he checked his surroundings, making sure he was in the right spot. The mask would have significantly obstructed his vision, since he’d have to remove his glasses. Everything came with a price. The gas was odorless, but he could tell some of it had already gotten in his system.
The familiar plumes continued to seep from the ground around the house as Sienna entered the living room, already wearing her mask. She stared at him through the dark lens of the antiquated item, and, as if to affirm her presence, sat closer to him than she had in months. His heart beat eagerly as they waited in silence. She looked just like he remembered.
Hungry fog littered the windows. From beyond the house, he could hear the sounds of children frantically rushing inside. At their age, they wouldn’t last very long without protection. He hoped they had people to go home to. Confronting the mist alone was too much a punishment for anyone.
Next time they won’t be so careless.
For the first few encounters with the mist, Gareth had tried plugging every surface, but it always found a way in. There was no point prolonging the inevitable. Especially this time.
Sienna instinctively reached her gloved hand towards Gareth’s. Amazed, he took it. A light, airy sensation.
Gareth clenched his body as he waited for the mist to reach his face. He found himself squeezing Sienna’s hands as the entity spread all around him. His skin crackled in irritation. No part of the house or town was safe. It seeped out of the ground every year or so. He’d imagine the wicked concoction burning underground before rising into a town slightly different than the time before. No one could stop it. Anyone who tried had given up and left.
After a few minutes, the plumes died down enough for Gareth to see his surroundings. A hazy outline of Gareth’s stubby eight-year-old self materialized a few feet in front of him. The outline sulked in the middle of the living room as the silhouette of his father rushed past him, unknowingly stepping on his foot. No use getting worked up by it now. The image faded as quickly as it appeared.
That wasn’t even in the same house.
Gareth tried keeping his eyes forward, but couldn’t resist the temptation to turn slightly toward Sienna.
Say something, you idiot.
It vexed him not to know what she was seeing, though he never asked. It vexed him not knowing why they were never able to talk about it. He quickly hid his expression. Allowing Sienna to detect vulnerability would be infinitely worse than any image the mist would show him. He pictured Sienna’s smug, stoic face behind the mask, wrapped in its impenetrable icy sheen. Gareth swiped at the blood trickling from his nostrils. He could feel Sienna’s sturdy hand trembling in his. The sensation emboldened him.
Before he could tell her anything, he saw his first wife’s silhouette sitting at the table in the kitchen, softly crying into her hands. Gareth’s counterpart sneaked in through the front door, pausing only to briefly assess the situation before heading upstairs. This image was slightly more realized than the last, but still hazy. Gareth inhaled deeply.
That wasn’t in the same house either.
A sudden influx of mist clouded Gareth’s vision again. Sienna’s hand shook with desperation before slipping out of his. He reached for her, but she was gone. The sound of a passing car prompted him to leap from his seat. He wheezed in pain as his lungs burned.
A few feet beside him, he saw their son Lionel in a dazed stupor. His eyes were inflamed and a trail of blood dribbled from his nose. An unsteady yellow line stretched across the length of the living room, denoting a street. Lionel, however, was indistinguishable from reality. A car honked. Lionel clumsily phased through the couch as he stumbled to get out of the way. Gareth knew he wouldn’t make it. He recognized this image from their first encounter with the mist. Without thinking, he rushed toward his son and pulled him out of the way. A fully realized car zoomed by, missing them entirely before disappearing into the wall. Gareth stepped back from the scene, bewildered. Lionel staggered with an equally confused expression before dissipating.
How much more can I inhale?
He made his way to the kitchen for fear of watching the same scene play out again, only to see another version of himself and Sienna. He could tell it wasn’t her since she looked several years younger. The younger Gareth sat at the table in an absentminded trance as Sienna tried, in distress, to tell him something. Gareth leaned closer to her, but her words only registered as vague vibrations. He strained himself to distinguish a single word from what she was saying, but nothing came through. He looked in disgust at the cold, pompous face his counterpart exhibited. Gareth balled his fist and took a swing at himself, but the image disappeared before he could connect.
Sienna.
He still didn’t know where she’d gone. Gareth rushed toward the garage, a refuge of sorts. There, he saw Sienna facing the outside through the open door. She was wearing a mask, but he wasn’t sure which version of her she was looking at. He couldn’t remember what she was wearing earlier.
If only I had paid more attention!
She turned to face him, entirely silent. Even through the mask, he could see the revulsion in her eyes.
Now or never.
The vapor was already starting to thin. She motioned for him to come closer. As he stepped toward her, she took the gas mask off and walked straight into a rising plume. The dissolving redness coaxed with a sweet whisper as his indecision gnawed. Specks of blood mottled the wall as he coughed. He looked back toward the living room, where the same hollow images promised to greet him year after year.
With quiet resolve, he stepped into the luscious embrace of the mist.

Christian Barragan is a graduate from CSU Northridge. Raised in Riverside, CA, he aims to become a novelist or editor. He is currently an MFA candidate at Hollins University. His work has appeared in the Raven Review, Across the Margin, and Caustic Frolic, among others.
If you are interested in learning more about Christian, you can find him on Instagram here.

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