The story begins here.
Was it lost in the fog? The swirling whiteness might have concealed even so large an object as a shattered and black-clad body. I crept forward, trying in vain to brush the fog away with theatrical waving motions of my arms, searching for the dead or dying man and at the same time wanting nothing to do with such a ghoulish sight. The fog laughed at my feeble efforts, my courage waned, and I stopped well before any real risk of stepping on the grisly remains. As I stood there peering with full concentration in one direction I had a sudden fancy that I was in a move and that a hand was about to grasp my shoulder from behind. I shuddered; my overactive imagination was nearly strong enough to make me look back over my shoulder but my pride was stronger and I resisted.
As I stood there thinking about ghosts and vampires and monsters, and wondering if I would be a star or an extra in this horror movie, suddenly from behind me, a hand came down on my shoulder.
"It's time for that talk," the man said.