Traveler Discovering an Abandoned Village in Dense Fog

A lone traveler stumbles upon a forgotten village, swallowed by an oppressive, bone-chilling fog. The ground is littered with scattered human remains—bleached skulls, shattered ribs half-buried in the dirt—each one a silent scream frozen in time. His face twists in horror-stricken disbelief, eyes wide as they trace the carnage: crumbling houses with doors torn from their hinges, rotten timber jutting like broken teeth, and the skeletal frames of dead trees clawing at the blood-red sky. The air reeks of decay and something sharper— metallic, like old blood. In the distance, the faint glow of dying embers pulses behind broken windows, casting long, wavering shadows that seem to twitch when unseen. Every step kicks up dust that swirls like ghosts, and the wind carries whispers—not of the dead, but of something watching from the fog. Cinematic grit stains the scene: vintage film grain, jarring wide-angle distortion, and a sickly palette of rust, charcoal, and corpse-blue. This isn’t just ruin—it’s a mass grave wearing a village’s skin.