The black mist bled into the village, swallowing homes until everything was engulfed. The townsfolk stumbled out with lanterns in hand, shouting through the unnatural fog, eventually finding themselves at the village square. Children dotted the crowd, clinging to parents like baby chicks.

The well-dressed man appeared from nowhere, stepping out of the shadow like a phantom. The townsfolk fell quiet, with parents ushering their children behind them hurriedly.

“I assume you know who I am,” his voice echoed, given new volume in the silence. He chuckled and let out a deep sigh.

“Someone made a deal with me some time ago. I’ve met my end of the bargain, but you failed to meet yours,” he explained, matter-of-factly. People began to shift uncomfortably in place.

“I’ve come to collect what’s due,” he finished, trailing his eyes over them. Many avoided his gaze, except a few oblivious children. He smiled at them. One little girl smiled back before her mother hid her.

He paused, then swung around, staring directly at a petite woman in a well-used apron, her brunette hair tied back by some old cloth. Her little boy shook behind her like a new-born lamb. He felt his smile widen too much.

“You.”

The woman, now seeming more a pale apparition in the fog, put an arm over her boy, who looked on with wide blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, Collector ser,” she stuttered, the words barely forming, “I don’t have the animal I owe ya. I’ll find somethin’ else, honest, please,” she pleaded now, trembling like a wet dog.

He stared into her pitiful brown eyes, welling up like flooding rivers. He smiled. “Alright,” he soothed, his voice flowing like honey. “That’s alright, Abigail. I understand,” he reassured her, watching a sigh leave her like a plume of smoke. With it, tears spilled down her face.

“Oh Abby, hush now, shh..” he cooed, approaching to hold her as she broke down in his arms, resting her head against his firm shoulder. He continued shushing her gently, rubbing circles over her back. The townsfolk dared not to make a sound.

“It’s okay, really,” he consoled, his eyes drifting towards her boy. He smiled then; a real, terrifying smile, showing all his serrated teeth.

“I’ll take him instead.”

There was a sudden yell, and then silence. She screamed, the way only hysterical mothers can. She shrieked and wailed and even begged the fog for someone who was long gone. It retreated from her – it began retreating from the entire village, fading to wherever it came. All was left untouched but a single boy and his broken mother.

When he returned a year later, approaching her doorstep, he left something wrapped in cloth before knocking and strolling some direction. As he reached the outskirts, he heard her scream the way only hysterical mothers can for a second time. Eyes are the windows to the soul, he’d heard, so he was sure she’d love such crystal blue panes.