the streets with a dismal gray sky hovering overhead. The air is warm, too warm for snow,despite the cool, almost cold, breeze whipping by. Snowflakes drift down; not many; theydescend lazily, except when the wind gusts, and they seem like fragments of burnt sky, cold bitsof ash. They evaporate almost instantly if caught, strangely not even leaving moisture behind.Everything is abandoned, barely working, and damp.The other is a nightmarish reflection of the first town, each of its buildings and locationsrecreated with a hellish twist. In the mildest cases, the basic lay out of the building or locationremains the same. The floor will remain basically the same, but it will become heavily soiled andstained, pock marked with blood and rust. Tiles are sometimes out of place, torn from the floor and strewn about. Blood and rust stain the walls as well, but they are usually further transformed.Typically, they are covered with something out of place, even on top of the blood and rust.Sometimes, the walls are completely covered with padding, other times, sheets or tarps aredraped on the walls haphazardly, as though the building were abandoned quickly. Besidesstrange coverings and blood and rust, other manifestations of decay appear on the walls, as theyare sometimes cracked and crumbling. Everything here is dark, derelict, bug-infested, creaky andconcealing unthinkable horrors. These general transformations are hardly the whole of it.Other times, bottomless pits swallow up parts of the structure that had been there in the 'normal'world. Nonfunctional escalators run into an endless dark. A wire mesh walkway suspendstravelers above a black chasm. What awaits at the bottom of these pits is unknown and best leftundiscovered. The sky is a sheet of pitch black without moon or stars, and from which a lightwarm rain falls instead of the cold snow of this town’s misty counterpart. In some places, walls,floors, and ceilings take on a fleshy appearance. When the transition occurs the windmills,machinery and other structures rise out of nowhere, and the general impression is that thenightmare town is just a speck in the middle of an infinite void, in its own separate reality as if nothing existed except for the metal grid and what is attached to it: nothing but empty space.Besides stained floors and ceilings, other disturbing vistas appear. Windows disappear, or become heavily barred or boarded, becoming impassable. Escape is made that much harder withtheir disappearance. In the worst cases, the floor and ceiling are composed entirely of flesh thatconvulses and bleeds. The normal geography of structures stops applying, as even new featuresare added. These new places are dominated with rust and normal surfaces are replaced with castiron grills and riveted steel. The air smells sour, and faintly dirty, like one might expect in thecenter of an industrial town, where smoke and cinders fall and make each breath lifeless, and potent with disease. It is heavy and humid and thick on the lungs. It even feels wrong, in somesixth-sense way that is difficult to explain correctly. It isn’t just the air that is heavy, everythingis heavy. As if gravity itself is stronger here, the ever-present force pulls downward with greater strength and intensity here.Visitors to one town can cross over into and out of the two towns against their will, appearing inthat location’s counterpart in the other reality. Distorted sirens in the distance mark the transition between the misty town and the nightmare version of the town, playing every time someoneshifts between them.
In any world, mists and fog can plague travelers, blurring senses, concealing terrors,and leading ships to water graves.