The fog rolled in today, grey, thick, wet. It was like moving through a world of ghosts; other people were shapeless blurs, lost at the edge of my vision-- then gone, as if they had never existed at all.

I passed most of the hour or so I spent walking on the beach thinking about Deep Ones surfacing from the ocean-- looking a little like rubber-suited rejects from Creature from the Black Lagoon-- and dragging wet and miserable tourists lost in the mist back into the briny deep with them as I stood by and waved. That, and writing "Hastur" in large and easily-readable letters in the sand.

I wonder if I'll dream of squids when I go to sleep?