The fog over Oakhaven didn’t roll in; it slumped, heavy and grey, like a wet wool blanket. It was a Tuesday—the most mediocre of days—and for the residents of the sleepy suburb, it was about to get much more tiring.
The sound ripped through the quiet. Mrs. Gable blinked, startled, her yawn cut short. “Go! Run!” Ben shouted. [S2E3] The Yawn of the Dead Adventure
“The Yawn of the Dead,” Sam muttered, rubbing his own eyes. “They’re not looking for meat, Ben. They’re looking for a comfortable place to nap.” The fog over Oakhaven didn’t roll in; it