A Series of Short Stories

The Truth of Roanoke Island

Disclaimer: This story is not one of mine, but a friend's.

It was a day like any other when the waves began. On Roanoke Island, the colonists had little connection with the outside world. Nevertheless, they built a large and cheerful civilization on the island. In the center of their largest town, a girl was running with a tiny dog, which had a collar with the name "Scruffles" engraved onto it. A man was selling bread nearby. A mom was caring for two babies, and three little boys were throwing rocks at the side of a building. Scruffles suddenly stopped running and perked up his ears. The little girl looked at him, confused. The boys stopped throwing rocks and looked at each-other's heads.
"Hey Sherbert! You hair is standing up!" It was true. Everyone's hair on the island stood up and a strange buzzing filled the air. All became quiet, but the buzzing stayed burning in their ears. People started screaming, and the little girl fell to the ground. Everything caught flame and the mother huddled her babies on the ground in the corner of the town square. Buildings crumbled, and the ground shook. There was a blinding light, and then a beautiful forest faded into view on Roanoke island. A small and slightly confused dog stood in the middle of a daisy patch. It watched a hand sink into the earth, burning, and right where it disappeared, a daisy sprouted. The dog looked around, and there were no homes, no sidewalks, no babies, no treats. There were just beautiful trees, birds, grasses, and ponds.
. . .
Two men are sitting on leather seats next to each-other. The one to the left is insanely skinny, nervous looking, and is wearing round glasses that poke through his hair awkwardly. The one to the right is wearing a nice leather jacket, a name-tag that says "James" in fancy font, has slicked back hair, and is flipping through a notebook. He has a fedora next to him, and he has square shoulders, though they were slumped due to his deep reading on his notes, as if checking something over and over again.

"Hey, why are we going to Roanoke island anyway?" Liam asked.

"Do you remember that colony on the island in 1587? The one that disappeared? I have a lead." James answered.

"Well, I don't really want to go, since the place freaks me out. How can that many people disappear out of nowhere?" Liam whimpered, trying to straighten his glasses.

"Be quiet, Liam, we are about to land." James ordered.

*BZZT* "This is your captain speaking. We seemed to have lost connection to the control tower down below, but we always have short power outages on Roanoke Island, so you shouldn't ma-" A horrible jolt goes through the plane, the windows start to crack, and emergency equipment drops down in-front of all the passengers.

A flight attendant ran out of the cockpit, and straightened her dress. "The plane is losing power and suffering catastrophic hull failure." A bright light can be seen over the island, a massive white ball of light. "Brace for impact."       

. . .
A dusty apartment is shown with an old TV in the middle of it. The TV flicks on. A reporter flashes onto the screen. "Hello, and welcome back to channel 42. Today on CMM, a massive power outage and airline failures are sprouting like crazy around Roanoke Island. We have no connection to the area, and we are heading to investigate further as I speak. As for tonight's traffic, we will- *FLICK* The TV turns to static. The sound of someone getting off of a couch creeps through the apartment. Then a voice like iron against asphalt,  "Good. Phase two is complete." A fire starts on the TV and it quickly turns into a small tree.
. . .
The front of the plane was gone. There were no survivors. But there were bodies. A circle of flame engulfed the crash site, and the only people missing were the pilot and the co-pilot. It seemed like the front of the airplane got vaporized right before the cities on the island turned to grass. Sounds of helicopters fill the air and soon the area is filled with millions of officers and detectives. One of the detectives opened up a briefcase labeled, James. A note fell out that read, I know who caused the disappearances on Roanoke Island... The detective's eyes grew wide.
. . .
A dusty apartment appears with a dead man on the floor, covered in lush plantlife, a gun in his hands, and bullets scattered everywhere. Police bust down the door, and rush in, their uniforms starting to sprout leaves and burn.