The Curse of Oak Isle

1: Shivers In The Heat

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1: Shivers In The Heat

Present day

The smell of char wafted through my open bedroom window, disturbing Ty Ritter’s beautiful voice. I scrunched my nose, wondering what could be burning to cause the god awful smell. My guess was that Dad had left the patties in the grill for too long and now they would be burnt to a crisp. But if he was grilling he would have mentioned it this morning.

Unless…

I dropped my headphones to the floor and ran to the window. Panic leaped inside my stomach as I hastily jerked the sheer purple curtains to the side. The hot July sun scorched my retinas, the light too much to bear all at ones. After blinking a few times, my eyes racked the yard for my little brother Max. Fear crawled up my insides as I thought the worst case scenarios for the smell. He was always getting into trouble, getting and doing things that were not appropriate for a six year old.

God only knew what he did now.

The panic ebbed away as my eyes landed on a moving van across the street. Puffs of smoke drifted from the front of the car as a man stood to the side, waving his arm aimlessly at the air around him. A second later, the hood popped open and he proceeded to inspect the damage. The driver seat door flew open and out jumped a guy from the high seat, kicking the door close with his foot.

I couldn’t get a good picture of him from the second story, but he looked like he might be the same age as me. A smile lifted the corner of my lips as I realized that they were moving in across the street. The house had been vacant for as long as I could remember. I had never even seen a realtor step onto our street, much less that house.

As I wondered what had brought them to Oak Isle, I saw the guy begin to unload big cardboard boxes from the truck, passing it one by one to his father. Some words were exchanged between them and the next thing I knew they were both staring up at me. My skin flushed from embarrassment at getting caught watching. Talk about a peeping Tom. I shut the curtains in a quick fluid motion and shook my head, wanting to shake the feeling of complete and utter awkwardness. They’d probably think I was an absolute nutcase. It’s the same thing that I would think of someone if I caught them gawking at me like some wonderful new discovery.

But that’s kind of what they were. We rarely got new neighbors in our quaint little town, much less the isle itself. The piece of land was off the coast of New York where a ferry transported those who worked back in the city to and fro.

I headed down stairs, sidestepping through the hallway like it was an obstacle course. There were toy cars and Legos scattered everywhere along with the odd disarray of color drawings Max loved to doodle. He wasn’t that bad for a six year old, in my opinion. I always told him that he’d be the next Picasso and he’d look up at me with innocent brown eyes and say “Who’s Pick-assho?”

Mom looked up from the dough she was kneading when I walked into the kitchen. The sweet aroma of peanut butter cookies and baked pumpkin pie assailed my nostrils and made my mouth water. I picked up a cookie, bringing it to my list before mom yanked it out of my hand.

“Hey! I was going to eat that,” I protested, jumping up on the counter and parking it.

“They are for later. Will you pass me the plastic wrap? I need to keep these from your brother, you know how he is.”