Atlantis of the Northeast

Danielle loved her summer home on Adelaide Island. She loved it so much that not even a week after senior graduation from the University of Maine, Danielle and her newly wed husband, Jason, planned on staying a couple of weeks at the cottage. The fair sized cottage was actually owned by Danielle’s parents; but they decided to lend her the keys for those two weeks as a sort of extended wedding gift. The house was only three miles east of Reedsport, the major town on Adelaide Island. And the cottage was only twenty miles from the bridge that connected the island with the rest of southern Maine. She loved that cottage for many reasons. The first, and most obvious, was because of its location. The house was built on the southern edge of the island, and if you looked out any of its southern windows, the brilliant blue of the Gulf of Maine greeted you. She also loved the house because of its solitude. The cottage was on the eastern half of the island, which had yet to be developed into a major tourist destination like the western half. Adelaide Island itself was a large, long island that jutted out into the Bay on Maine near the New Hampshire boarder. Most of the developers had taken over the southwestern section of the island though, since it was closer to Reedsport and the bridge. In the northeast part of Adelaide Island there is an inlet. And on the edge of that inlet is a long, narrow peninsula. Danielle loved to take a jog every morning down the peninsula and back, and today was no different.

She made sure to get up early on Saturday morning on July 17th, 2008 so she could catch the sunrise while on her morning jog. She always packed light whenever she went running. Today thought, since she was in rush, she packed exceptionally light; bringing only her bottle of water, and the silver bracelet her husband gave her as an anniversary present that also served as her watch and timer. She then kissed Jason goodbye, took the keys to their Honda Civic, and took the short drive through the scrub pine forest toward the northern part of the island. When she got to the place where the peninsula started to take shape, she parked her car in the small lot that led down to the beach. She made sure to lock her car before setting off for her usual morning jog down the beach. The sun had not yet broken the eastern sky, and as she started running west, she noticed how large and full the moon was. She couldn’t recall ever seeing the moon that bright and close to the earth. The brisk, summer air at first made her shiver, but once she started running she began to unzip the light sweater she had put on. The beach was lifeless, and was seemingly silent except for the muffled sound of shallow waves crashing onto the beach. There wasn’t any wind to greet Danielle that morning. But she hated the wind; it always blew the sand around and messed up her hair. This morning Danielle was running faster, and better than she ever did before. She stopped only once to rest and take a quick drink before once more heading further west until she reached the point. She loved running on the beach; the feel of the sand between her toes every time she took a stride, the cooling mist that came off of the early morning sea. Most of all though she loved watching the western sky go from dark blue, to pink, to orange, and finally to a brilliant, cloudless blue that made her feel more alive each time she looked at it.

By the time she reached the tip of the peninsula, the morning sun was beating on her back. Droplets of sweat had started to form on her neck and back. Her water was almost halfway gone, so she took off her sweater to help cool herself down. Under the sweater, she was wearing a black, two-piece bikini that she wore only on her morning jogs. She always made sure to take a quick dip in the sea to cool down before heading back to her car, and today was no different. As she waded into the water though, she noticed another unexpected thing. The island that was located off of the peninsula seemed exceptionally close today. Normally the water between the point and the island was too deep to walk across even at low tide. Today though, the water was no more than waist deep across the entire channel. Curious, Danielle waded out further into the shallow channel. She had never been on that island before; she had seen it countless times and always wondered what was on it, but knew she would need a boat to get to it on typical day. Today though was not a typical day, and seeing that she had plenty of extra time before her husband would wake up, she decided to explore the island a little.

Once Danielle waded across the channel onto the island, she resumed walking west toward the end of the island. She knew very little about the island other than that she knew there was once a small community of people at the far end of the island, but everyone moved away back in the twenties. She didn’t however, know how long the island was, but her curiosity told her that she might never again get this chance. The day started to heat up and she began to sweat. She made sure not to drink to much water though, since she knew she still had to walk back. So in order to cool off she walked up closer to the forest that made up the body of the island. But once she was away from the cooling mist of the ocean spray, she was quickly attacked by swarms of green head flies, taking small pieces of flesh with each bit they took. She ran back to where the sand was damp with ocean water, the flies didn’t bother her there.

The beach started to widen now, the forest disappeared behind large, sandy cliffs. Danielle was just about to turn around so she could cross the straight before the tide came in. But something up ahead, on the top of the cliff caught her eye. At first all she could see was a large, dark object that stood at the edge of the cliff. As she moved closer though, it began to take shape. She soon realized that the object on the cliff was actually an abandoned house. The small, one room cottage was only a couple of feet from falling onto the beach itself. Every window was shattered, and you could still see some rusting pipes poking out from the cliff, evidence that the house once had indoor plumbing. The roof appeared to still be intact however, even though it was missing whole rows of shingles. None of this surprised Danielle though, shattered windows and missing shingles were things you expected to see in an abandoned house. The thing that surprised, and frightened Danielle was seeing that the house was painted entirely black. Every wooden panel, molding, window frame, and door was painted an ambient black that seemed to almost blend in with the surrounding woods. The door was also painted with various symbols that she couldn’t recognize, but guessed that they were symbols of an occult. Danielle was now very frightened by that house, and wanted to get as far away from it as she could. She felt lucky enough that she had a cliff separating it from her, but also felt like the house would fall on top of her at any moment; trapping her in its dark depths. Although with her fright though, a feeling of curiosity was aroused once more, and she soon forgot about the rising tide, and headed west instead of east to see what may lye ahead. Danielle made sure to walk as fast as she could away from that house, and didn’t look over her shoulder until she was sure it was out of site. It was now almost ten in the morning, and she knew it would now be too late to turn around and cross the straight. She would have to stay on the island for another six hours, but she didn’t care, just as long as she didn’t have to see that house again. Danielle guessed that Jason was probably up now, making a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper in the living room, believing that his wife was enjoying a nice jog on the beach. He probably wouldn’t start to worry around noon, and wouldn’t start to panic around two. Maybe then he would call the Reedsport police and start looking for me. But what if he figured she went to the store to pick something up? Or took a trip to see her sister down in Lexington? If that were the case, Danielle knew he wouldn’t start to worry until at least dinnertime.

Danielle continued heading west, hoping that she could simply circle around the island to avoid having to pass that house again. But there was no turning point in sight, and she began to wish she never came onto the island in the first place. The island seemed to have a strange power to it. It seemed to almost beckon you in, only to mock you and frighten you once you stepped onto it. She hated everything about the island. It smelled of a musty, damp basement, and everything here seemed to lack color. The sky was a dull blue; the sand seemed to be almost gray. The forest was a clump of ugly greens and browns that faded quickly to a lifeless black; black like the house. The sand was no longer soft between her toes, now it was rough and painful. It seemed to scrape away at the skin on her feet, making deep, crunching sounds each time she took a step; she was sure they would have blisters on her toes by the end of the day. Danielle soon slipped into a sort of trance brought on by the boredom and repetitiveness of the island. She could no longer walk without closing her eyes unknowingly, only to stumble herself awake from the uneven surface of the beach. She had a strong erg to simply lay down on the beach and fall asleep, but even in her near unconscious state, she knew better than to fall asleep on a strange island; especially one that has a black house on it. Things continued that way for most of the afternoon, at least until she came upon something on the beach that shocked her into waking up.

Around one in the afternoon, Danielle reached a flat, wide section of the beach that was littered with brown seaweed and the remains of various crustaceans. Up ahead though, she saw another large black object. Only this time the object was nearly ten times larger than the house, and it was sprawled across the beach instead of on a cliff. From a distance she thought it might be a beached whale, or even strange rock outcroppings; after seeing that black house, anything seemed possible to her. As she got closer though, it became evident that the object was not an animal or a strange rock formation, it was something even more bizarre, a large, rusting tugboat. The tugboat was leaning away from her on its port side, in a gesture that almost beckoned her to continue heading west. The boat was covered in rust on every spot, but Danielle guessed that it was red at one time. The name and number had long since corroded away with only a few white flakes still clinging to its iron hull. The windows seemed to be missing, there was no evidence of them bring shattered, the frames were simply empty. Danielle was surprised by how far up the beach the boat settled, but assumed that after many decades of winter storms, the waves pushed it further up the beach. The boat smelled of rotting fish and sea creatures that made Danielle stop in her tracks to avoiding vomiting. Once the smell was tolerable enough to keep her stomach down as best she could, she got closer to the boat. She went around to the other side of the tugboat, the side closest to the ground, so she could try to find a way to climb up onto it. There was a decaying wooden ladder on the starboard side of the boat, probably from back when the boat first hit shore. Danielle climbed up onto the first rung, which snapped under her weight, sending her sprawling onto the course sand on her back. She got up, brushed the sand off her legs and back, then tried once more to get into the boat. This time though, instead of trying the ladder, she simply tried to climb over the railing of the boat. She gripped the bottom of the deck, and pulled herself up high enough to grab the first rusty, iron bar that made up the ships railing. Then she used the hand still on the boat’s hull to grab the second metal bar, and pulled herself over the railing and landing on the deck of the boat. The moment her foot hit the deck, a sharp pain emanated from her right heel. When she lifted her foot up she saw a large, sharp splinter was lodged into her heel, from the rotting, wooden deck. She held her foot still and plucked out the splinter, giving a slight wince at the pain that shot up from her heel. She looked around the boat, seeing that ever board that made up the deck was warped, damp, and rotting. Every step she took made a loud, creaking noise of wet wood being stretched out. On the door of the tugboat was another one of those symbols. This one was a red circle with seemingly random lines protruding off of it. To Danielle it looked like a sort of demonic sunset, and that feeling of fright started to creep into her again. Danielle cautiously pushed open the rusty metal door of the boat. The door made a loud creaking noise as its rusty hinges were twisted inward. The door became stuck while it was only half open. Danielle leaned her head inside to get a look at what was causing the jam; but found to her horror that the inside of the boathouse was littered with piles of bones. Although all of the bones appeared to be that of rodents and small mammals, Danielle gave out a muffled scream as she covered her mouth with her hand. She closed the door as fast as she could, sending a loud, metallic bang across the silent landscape. Danielle started to make her journey back across the rotting wooden deck, only this time much quicker. When she at last stepped onto the beach, her heart was racing, her lungs felt like they were burning, and she had two more splinters in her feet; but she kept going strong even after she was off the boat. She just wanted to get away from those signs and bones as fast as she could.

Not until the boat was only a small, black shadow on the horizon did Danielle stop running. When she finally looked over her shoulder again, she was still frightened by the distance of the boat, and wished that it would just vanish altogether. But Danielle knew that she had to rest, and remove those splinters. By now the splinters were burrowed deep into the arch of her foot; sending up shots of pain every few seconds. Since the splinters went in at a peculiar angle, taking them out was an excruciating task. When at last the two splinters were removed, a small stream of blood flowed from each of the two little holes. Danielle decided to dip her feet into the ocean, hoping the salt water would help the healing. When she put her feet into the ocean though, she reeled herself back; the water was bitterly cold, even by Maine standards. Danielle felt like she had stepped into a snow bank with her bare feet in the middle of winter, not into the summer-warmed ocean of southern Maine. When Danielle looked out into the ocean, she noticed that even though the sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue, the ocean remained a sickening gray that one might see during an ocean gale, or an overcast sky.

Danielle guessed; judging by the position of the sun, that it was somewhere around two. Her feet were sore, and every step she took seemed to deepen the cuts with the beaches coarse sand. She wondered if Jason was worried yet. By now he was probably watching some movie on Spike, or whatever other manly channel he would flip too when she wasn't around. He was usually oblivious to the outside world on Saturday mornings; paying more attention as to how Bruce Willis will get out of a burning building, than knowing where his wife is. So Danielle figured it would still be a while before he would begin to worry. Danielle’s water was almost gone now, and she was starting to think that this island would simply never come to an end. She wondered why she had never heard of this island, even though it was so large and close to Reedsport. And although she didn't live here, she knew many of the people in her town and many of the stories surrounding it. The only recollection she had of anyone mentioning the island was during one of her trips to the local antique shop when she overheard two older men talking about how it was the anniversary of the Adelaide Island disaster. But what kind of disaster were they talking about? A storm? A riot? A plague? How she wished she had listened closer instead of looking at that ugly glass vase that she eyed. Danielle looked to the northern sky, and noticed that it was no longer a silent blue. The northern sky was now covered with thick, threatening clouds that were approaching the island at a fantastic rate that both scared Danielle, and also puzzled her. The wind had begun to pick up speed now and the beach was no longer in silence. The waves no longer had their distant, muffled clapping against the beach; and now sounded more like fists pounding against sand with each crashing of a wave. Danielle was forced to retreat further up the beach to avoid getting swept under by any unsuspecting wave. Up ahead Danielle spotted another large, dark object on the beach. Dread now filled her, for she didn't want any more encounters with strange objects and symbols. But she knew she couldn't turn back either; because if she did that she would have to walk past both the boat and the house. Neither of which she wished to ever see again. However, this new object was much smaller than the boat had been, yet still resembled nothing more than a pile of rocks. As she approached it; she saw that it was large piece of unidentifiable rusted steel that seemed to be the crunched up skeleton of some long forgotten machine. It wasn't until Danielle walked entirely around the object that she realized that it was a fair sized helicopter that had crash landed onto its side. The helicopter frame was entirely rusted, with many cracks, bumps, and twists in it's sheet metal skeleton. The rotors had long since disappeared; probably immediately after impact Danielle thought. The tail of the chopper lay helplessly on the beach, like a dismembered limb laying peacefully next to its former attachment. Danielle judged that the helicopter must have been post-World War II era; guessing by its very simple design and shape. There weren't any cult symbols of any sort on the helicopter, yet Danielle still didn't like the sight of this ancient vehicle lying on a deserted beach, with the waves of high tide splashing up against its thin, rusted hull. She moved quickly past it, not taking a moment longer to look inside, out of fear for what she might find.

The clouds were hovering over the island now. Covering it in a thick blanket of gray dampness. The ocean became even more restless, spewing pillars of water into the vacant sky with each crash of waves. Danielle was forced to retreat further up the beach to avoid getting washed away into the endless gray sea. The flies had return though, and this time they seemed to be even stronger. They swarmed around her whole body, playing a game of tag with her skin and taking a small chunk of skin off her, only to fly away half a second later. A northern wind soon began to blow though, driving away the flies. The wind sent a slight shudder through her body, for even though it was a midsummer day, the clouds and wind make the day seem like an early autumn afternoon. Danielle didn't like being this close to the woods. The short pine trees were densely packed together, and she thought she could smell the distant scent of a swamp. The trees were so close together that the forest quickly faded to an ambient black where light seemed to be swallowed by the island itself. Danielle was more frightened by the woods than anything else on the island. Only the woods were inescapable; they always stood on the sidelines, just waiting for her to fall from exhausted, then she wouldn't be able to run from them. She made sure to look only straight ahead, never directly into them. Every once in a while she swore she could see a pair of bright, yellow eyes emerging from the darkness, but when she turned her head to look, she saw only trees. That feeling of weariness was sinking into her again. Her steps became slower and closer together, her eyes began to sink further down, and her back began to slouch. She was now out of water, and still she saw no end to this island.

After two hours or so of lazily putting one foot in front of the other, Danielle came across something she was not expecting. It seemed to simply emerge from the course sand that she had been walking on for hours. She had gotten use to the sharp, gritty feeling of the rocky sand between her toes, so when her feet fell on something much more solid, she stopped suddenly to see what new wonder she had come across. At first she thought it was just a flat rock, but when she looked closer, she saw that it was not something made by nature. After feeling its course, hard surface, she realized that she had stepped onto a large slab of concrete. The concrete extended in a western direction, parallel to the ocean. It was very old concrete, and the top surface had been worn down in many spots, revealing larger stones that made up the second layer. Danielle continued to walk on her newly found discovery, still unsure of its purpose. Lot long after though, the concrete began to raise above the surface of the beach, leaving a vertical drop of nearly a foot on the right side of her. Then, slightly further up, a metal railing emerged next to the steep edge of the concrete. Danielle realized then what it was she was walking on; it was a boardwalk that had been abandoned for what must have been decades.

As Danielle walked further down the boardwalk, new things started to appear. First, it was the reminisce of an old lamppost; only now it was nothing more than a rusty, metal pole protruding from an elaborately designed cast iron base that was equally as rusty. There was one of these poles about every twenty feet or so on the boardwalk. Some of them still having their tops, and a few even had their glass casings intact. Then the benches started to appear. The benches were painted black at one time, but the salty air and water had worn away much of it, leaving only its exposed metal body to endure the harsh winters of Southern Maine. There were also ancient, rusty trash barrels that she would come across on occasion. However, unlike the benches, the trash barrels were not bolted into the boardwalk. This caused many of them to be toppled onto their sides after decades of spring storms and wind. Eventually, the forest that was to the left of the boardwalk, began to disappear. It was instead replaced by an even more frightening sight, the abandoned shacks and huts of what was once a grand tourist destination known as Umpqua Beach. Danielle passed by each of these shacks with a disturbed look of both disgust and fright. Each of these huts was boarded up with large pieces of plywood. Some of them had long since toppled and scattered their wooden skeleton across the boardwalk. Danielle walked cautiously, making sure to avoid stepping on the broken glass or rusty nails that once held these gift shops and hot dog stands together. The paint on many of the shacks was heavily faded by the summer sun, and was peeling away in large strips off their ancient walls. Many of the huts still bore their signs that at one time welcomed tourist and beach goers. Some of them said things like “Umpqua T-Shirt CO.-Buy one get one free!”. While others were more generic, like “Hot Dogs, Soda, Ice Cream!”. Still others were too faded to see what sort of merchandise they once held. Danielle was intrigued by this ghost beach, that unknowing to her, had once been one of the most popular tourist spots in Maine.

After walking past a dozen of the shacks, she noticed that one of those cult symbols was now painted on the rotting, plywood cover of each abandoned hut. Although Danielle was more curious about this place than she was frightened, the signs still made that feeling of unease creep back into her stomach. At one point she approached a shack with one of the symbols on it; and after studying it for a couple minutes, she was still baffled as to what these symbols meant. Each one was different, but they always consisted of six circles and two triangles that were inside of a large hexagon. What made each different was either the arrangement, size, or color of each shape. Many of the symbols were a dull red, but Danielle also spotted a number of white and black ones as well. After Danielle examined the sign, she became much less afraid of them. Unlike after seeing the house or the boat, the strange reality of being on a deserted boardwalk seemed to put her at some sort of ease in her mind, and everything seemed to take on a more innocent, and almost humorous appearance. It was nearly five now, and the sky was growing darker and thicker with rain clouds. As Danielle took a brief rest on one of the boardwalks old benches, she felt the light tickle of raindrops begin to fall on her nose and face. The wind had died down now, but the ocean was still as rough as it had been when she walk past the helicopter. The island had the dense smell of mold and rotting fish. Everything was silent, not even the crashing of the waves made any audible noise. Danielle could still feel the strange power that the island had; a power that seemed to cause both weariness and fear in a person, only now it seemed to be losing its grip on her. With her new found feeling of bravery and strength, she continued forward, knowing that the end of the island was near. She soon came across the old bathhouse that once held showers, changing rooms, and toilets. It use to be an enormous structure, with large frosted glass windows and an architectural style that would have been considered daring in its day. Now though, much of the glass was either broken, or covered in a thick layer of black mold. The steel roof that once reflected the summer sun in blinding rays, was now rusted and on the verge of complete collapse. The tile walls had turned from an aqua ocean blue, to a lifeless green. Some spots were bare of any tiles; instead they showed the concrete body that was hidden below its fragile skin of glass and ceramic tiles. More of those symbols were painted on it, one on each wall, but Danielle paid no attention to them, and instead focused on what was across from the bathhouse. Across from the crumpled heap of steal and glass that was once a bathhouse, the shacks and huts that had dominated the beach suddenly split into two sections. In the middle was a large, arched sign that stood high above the board walk. On it, in large florescent letters were the remains of what once read “WELCOME TO UMPQUA BEACH”, but was now missing well more than half of its letters, making it look more like some strange sort of code than a greeting sign. Beyond the rusted arched sign Danielle saw what looked like was once a road with ancient storefronts lining each side of it. Danielle changed her course of direction, and instead of continuing on the boardwalk, she took a sharp left and headed toward the entrance to the beach.

The large arch towered above Danielle as she walked under it. Below it, were the remains of broken glass and florescent tubes that once glowed a radiant red to all who passed by. The arch itself was still in surprisingly good shape, and besides the large rust stains that engulfed most of it, it still looked sturdy enough to withstand another decade of Maine weather. Once past the arch, the sidewalk split abruptly to her left and right. Danielle walked into the middle of the cracked asphalt that once served as the town's main street. To her left she saw dozens of vacant storefronts, and beyond that she caught a glimpse of the forest that covered the rest of the island. To her right, she saw many more abandoned buildings, but since the road curved, she couldn't see more than a quarter of a mile down the road. Not wanting to walk into that dark forest, Danielle decided to continue in the direction she had followed all day, west. Danielle first passed by what appeared to be an old restaurant on the right side of the street. The windows were boarded up with more plywood, much like the shacks that were on the boardwalk. The only thing that distinguished it from the surrounding buildings were the rusty, round tables that were bolted to the sidewalk outside its decaying structure. Danielle imagined couples sitting in metallic chairs in swimsuits and t-shirts while waiting for their soda or coffee to be served to them on a hot, summer afternoon. Across the street from the cafe, stood the remains of the towns theater. Its large, vertical sign of florescent lights and letters was smashed in many places. Wires were hanging out of its sides, like snakes trying to escape from a cage. The entrance that once told bystanders what was showing, was now just a large, dusty white strip that hung high above the sidewalk. The spots that once held movie posters and upcoming shows, now were simply white cases with broken yellow lights surrounding the smashed glass covering. Next to the theater was what might have once been a pharmacy or drugstore. As Danielle walked down the weed infested road, she walked past dozens of buildings, many of them had their windows covered up; but some of the buildings were missing their wooden casings, revealing broken windows and doors below them. Other buildings had simply collapsed after years of snow and rain falling on their weak rooftops. Danielle was surprised by the lack of cult symbols. She had not seen once she since got off the boardwalk. All of the buildings that lined the street were free of graffiti markings of any kind. And although she felt safer being away from those signs, the feeling of unease seemed to be growing stronger again.

When she at last came to the place where the road ended, she took a long rest. Main Street ended on a small rotary about a mile from where she first started. In the middle of the rotary was a decorate fountain with a statue in its center. The bowl of the fountain that once was filled with water, was now dry and cracking. Hundreds of green pennies lined its bottom, worn thin by years of rain. The statue was an ancient, four foot carving of Poseidon triumphantly holding his brass trident. Water had once emanated from his mouth, but was now equally as dry as everything around him. The stone itself was cracked in many places, and had small, porous holes, made from decades of wind-driven sand from the nearby beach pelting against its hard skin. The brass trident seemed to be the only thing that remained untouched by nature. Although it had lost the shine it once held, it did not tarnish or decay like everything else on the island had. Danielle sat on the edge of its round bass. She looked skyward, and opened up her mouth wide, hoping to catch as many raindrops as she could. But the rain was little more than a sprinkle at this point, and it only managed to wet her dry tongue and lips. It was then that she first heard the thing. At first it was a low growl that came from the east. Danielle jerked her head down quickly from her skyward position, and stared down the road from which she came. She saw nothing. Then she remembered those yellow eyes that she swore she saw in the woods when she was walking on the beach. She quickly dismissed the thought, and looked to the ocean, hoping it would provide some comfort. Then she heard it again, this time the growling seemed much closer, only now it came from behind her. She stood up, and spun her body around so she could face the west. But she once more saw nothing. Only the same abandoned boardwalk that no longer had storefronts to block it. The feeling of fright sank into her again. Thoughts of the house and the boat raced through her mind. Her eyes darted quickly from side to side, trying to spot what had made that sound. Then the sound came again. This time the sound came from her left. She turned only her head this time. But again, she saw nothing. She only saw the deserted road that branched off of the rotary, heading further into the island, and eventually ran parallel next to the curving beach. The sound came again. This time it came again from the downtown district. Danielle spun her body around in a semi-circle, and at last she saw the thing.

It stood in the center of Main Street. It was nearly five feet tall. But since it was slouched over, it was hard to guess its true height. The thing was black, much like the house, and it had bright, yellow eyes that stood out in perfect contrast against its completely black structure. Even though it was nearly a quarter of a mile down the street, Danielle could pick out even the smallest detail on it. She was petrified to the point where she couldn't move. The thing began to slowly move toward her. It moved in a swift manner, its black fur moving slightly in the breeze. Danielle was still incapable of movement, no matter how much her legs told her to run. Then the thing got on all fours, and started charging toward Danielle; its eyes were bright with anger and it had a large grin across its face, showing its razor sharp teeth that were equally as yellow as its eyes. Startled, Danielle at last found her mobility. But when she went to run, she tripped on her own foot, sending her falling backwards. Her head struck the edge of the stone fountain, rendering her nearly unconscious. Bright white spots danced inside her head as she lay on the sun bleached pavement. The creature was closing the distance quickly, and Danielle was barely aware of the situation. When the creature was no more than fifty feet away, she at last came to her senses again. She let out a loud scream as she tried to crawl away from the beast. But she had no where to go with the fountain behind her. The creature was now only thirty feet away now. Danielle closed her eyes and put her left arm in front of her face, hoping to cover even a small portion of herself from those teeth. She began to recite the Lord's prayer in her head; a pray she had recited hundreds of times as a little girl at her catholic church.
“Our Father, which art in Heaven.”
The creature was only twenty feet away now.
“Thy Kingdom come.”
Fifteen feet.
“Thy will be done,”
Ten feet.
“In earth as it is in Heaven”
Five feet.
“Give us this day our daily-”
Just before she could complete the verse, a loud bang shattered the silence of the landscape. Danielle removed her arm from her face and opened her eyes. No more than two feet in front of her she saw the creature lying perfectly still, a dark red fluid that came from its body was slowly crawling across the asphalt; it was dead.

She turned toward the street that branched off the rotary; the direction the sound had come from. Standing in the otherwise empty road, was a tall, elderly man. He was holding a long, black shotgun that still had smoke rising from its barrel. He held it firmly against his shoulder blade, still aiming it at the creature he had killed moments earlier. His face was emotionless. His hair was short and was a light gray. There were deep wrinkles and age spots around her mouth and eyes. Danielle guess that he could be no more than seventy. His arms still retained their large, muscular structure, and had changed little even into his late age. Danielle thought he looked healthy for his age, yet his stomach showed signs of frequent starvation. He at last lowered his gun, and his face grew softer. He walked over to Danielle, and held out his hand to help her up. She grabbed it. His grip was much firmer than she expected, and he was able to pull her up with much ease.
“You okay miss?” The man asked.
Danielle could only stare at him blankly.
“Miss?”
“What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine.” Danielle said, still in a haze of confusion and dizziness. She looked around, making sure that no more of those creatures would jump out. “Who are you?” She at last asked the man.
“Name's Jonathan, but you can call me John.” The man said. “And what is the name of the young lady I have had the pleasure of meeting this fine afternoon?” John asked with a slight grin.
“I'm, uh, my name's Danielle.” She said, still unable to believe her near death experience.
“You sure you're okay? You seem a bit...flustered” John said, now with a look of slight concern on his face.
“Yeah, I'm fine, my head just hurts a little. I'm a little dizzy too.” Danielle said.
“You took quite a fall there against the fountain. Your lucky to still be conscious. Come on, I'll take you over to my place, you can lay down in a place more safe than these streets.” John said, already starting to walk down the road toward his house. Danielle quickly followed him, not wanting to be left alone again in these now dangerous streets.
“What is this place anyway?” Danielle asked. Her strength had finally come back to her, and the dizziness began to fade.
“This place? Why you just happened to stumble upon the forgotten town of Brookport, Maine; on the forgotten piece of land once called Umpqua Island.” John said with a bit of sarcastic pride.
John was walking at a fast pace up the road, which was now taking a soft turn to the right and now ran parallel next to the beach. Danielle was having a hard time keeping up with the man, the muscle in her legs were locked up by cramps, making each step jerky and painful.
“Hey, can you slow down mister? I mean, John.” Danielle said.
“Yeah, but not too much, I don't like being outside when those things are on the prowl.” John said with a bit of fear in his voice.
“What was that thing? Are there more of them?” Danielle asked.
“I'll tell you everything when we get to my house, but for now I need you to be quiet so I can listen for anymore of those creatures” John said, surveying the land with brief swipes of his head.
“How did you know I was in trouble anyway?” Danielle persisted.
“Didn't I tell you to shut up?” John said, growing irritated.
Danielle got the message and made sure not to open her mouth except to breathe. Instead she looked around the town that now had a name. Brookport, why have I never heard of this place before? Danielle thought. They passed by more abandoned buildings, only now they were collapsed houses instead of stores. The houses ranged from middle class, colorful homes, to high class housing with grand stairways and elaborate balconies that have since tumbled onto the roof or porch below. Across the street was the boardwalk, now much wider than it was when it first started. Danielle stared at everything in a dazed, out of place feeling. She felt like she was in a sort of dream, and was incapable of focusing on anything other than following the man that saved her life. Everything seemed to pass by in a blur, and she was unable to make out any detail in the buildings. She thought she passed what may have once been a theme park, now reduced to only twisted metal poles and beams that lay lifelessly on the concrete boardwalk. House after house flew by on her left, while the sand and ocean formed one giant blur of gray on her right, as her head pounded harder and faster. She was hoping desperately that they would get to this man's house so she could lay down. The rain had now become a steady drizzle, turning the light gray asphalt an ugly black. The wind picked up its speed once more, and the blanket of rainclouds moved quickly overhead toward the south. Just before Danielle thought she would faint, she saw the place that she knew was what the man considered to be his home. They had finally reached the place on the island where the sand shifted back toward the peninsula that Danielle had originally come from. On the tip of the island, stood a rusty lighthouse that had once been bleached with white paint. The lighthouse stood alone on a tall outcropping of rock that overlooked the rough seas below. The road led up to the lighthouse and ended abruptly in a semi-circle next to it. But Danielle knew that it wasn't the lighthouse that he called home, it was the well kept, and intact shack next to the lighthouse. The “house”, if you could call it that, was painted white and may have once matched the lighthouse. The roof still had all of its shingles, and the integrity of the building seemed to be sturdy enough to be no more than a decade old. The lawn around the shack and the light was well kept as well. There weren't any trees within a five hundred foot radius of the house, and the grass was cut short. Danielle also saw something that puzzled her. Surrounding the property, were large floodlights that were all connected to each other. They were stationed about three hundred feet from the house, and they formed a semi-circle around the house, each light was angled so that it faced directly into the nearby woods. The lights appeared to act as a strange sort of barrier around the lighthouse and the shack. She had the urge to ask John what they were for, but she expected that she would get all the answers she wanted once they were inside.
“Almost there.” John said with a sigh of relief.
Once they were at the door to the shack, John pulled out a tarnished silver key. He put it into the lock on the door that didn't match the rest of the building, turned the key, and opened the door. His hand brushed a light switch hidden somewhere off to the left, and the shack was suddenly filled with light. Once inside, Danielle saw that there was a cot to the far left that was covered with a dark gray sheet. Next to the cot was a nightstand with a radio that looked like it predated World War II. Across from the nightstand was a large oak desk with numerous papers scattered about it. Directly in front of her was another door which she guessed led to the bathroom.
“Welcome to my home.” John said, with that same sarcastic pride she had her earlier “I know it's probably not what you're use to seeing, but hey, it's still a roof over your head isn't it?” He said with a laugh. “Here, go lay down, I go get a cold towel.” John said, already leading her to the cot.
“Thank you.” Danielle said as she laid herself down.
John came back with the towel a minute later, and had Danielle place it on her forehead.
“Now, will you tell me just what is going on on this crazy island?” Danielle said.
“Of course, I will keep you waiting no longer miss Danielle” John said with a slight grin. “Where do you want me to start?” He asked.
“Well, how about if we start with that thing that tried to kill me. What exactly was that thing?”
“Sure, lets start there.” John said with that same grin. “That thing is exactly that, a thing. I don't know exactly what it could be. But I've had my ideas. I first thought they were demons, then I thought maybe they were some sort of mutated wolf, but everyday now they seem to act more and more like humans. Did you notice the way it grinned at you before it charged?” John asked rhetorically, then continued. “No animal could possibly make a grin like that”
“Okay, now can you tell me just who you are, and how you knew I was in trouble?”
“Sure. Well, I'll answer your second question first, that ones much easier to explain” John said, with another laugh. “Every afternoon I take a walk around the town and the woods to try and find some food, and make sure none of those creatures are roaming around. So today I set out around four, a little later than usual but hey, who cares on a deserted island? Anyway, I started my walk around the woods, then slowly made my way toward the town. Then around what might have been five, five thirty, I heard that growl that I have long grown accustom too. I began to jog in the direction of the sound, making sure to save my strength if I needed to confront it. I heard it growl two more times, then I heard a sound I haven't heard in decades, a human scream, your scream. It was then that I began to sprint. And I got there just as it started its charge toward you. I raised my trusty shotgun, and well, I think you know the rest” John said, with a large smile spread across his face, his fingers forming a pretend gun aimed at Danielle's face.
“Okay, now how about my other question?”
“Aye, now that one is a bit more complicated.” John said, his grin disappearing.
“Well I got all day, take your time.” Danielle said, with a grin of her own.
“Not so sure about that, the storm is getting worse, soon it's gonna flood most of the island, and I don't want you on it when that happens.” John said.
“What do you mean? How can the whole island flood? That's impossible.” Danielle challenged.
“Aye, I thought so too when I was younger, but it's happened four times before, and it's gonna happen again tonight.” John said.
“Can you just answer my question?” Danielle asked.
“Yes, I can, but I think I'll have to tell you the story behind the island itself for you to better understand the purpose I have on it.” John said, now with a much more serious face than he had before.
“Okay, whatever works.” Danielle said.
“Sure. Let's start with a brief history lesson of Umpqua Island. Okay, so, most people say it all started back in the year 1758, when the first European settlers came to the island. They built the small town of Brookport on an apparent ancient native American burial ground, which I'm assuming didn't help out the town much in its later years. But anyway. Needless to say the white men didn't treat the natives with much respect, and besides naming the island after them, they did little else to recognized them. They would give the natives disease ridden blankets that killed off much of the Umpqua tribe. After a brief, and decisive war with the natives, the last surviving native, which also happened to be a witch doctor, yeah I know, just our luck. But anyway. Legend goes that he put a curse upon the island with his last breath. Claiming that a great many would die a tragic death in two centuries. Then, during the 18th century, an acclaimed witch took up residence in the swamp that makes up the interior to much of the island. And since it was quite fashionable back then to hunt out acclaimed witches, she was quickly charged, and hanged for her acts of witchcraft. She also put a curse on the island, saying that the island would never again be inhabited by humans once the great storm had come. But of course no one knew what she was talking about, at least not then. Then around the turn of the century, the island suddenly boomed with tourist. Houses were built. Stores and restaurants sprung up. A boardwalk was laid down on the beach. And all of a sudden, Umpqua Island earned itself a big, black dot on every Triple-A map in Maine. The town reached its highest point during the 1950's. People saw it as a great way to 'discover America' and spend their extra money on a week, or month long vacation. So they made the boardwalk longer, put an amusement park in, along with a new theater and storefronts. Now keep in mind I was born in 1940, so I grew up in this town's golden age. I spent every day either on the boardwalk, eating a corn dog, or at the theater watching the latest horror movie. My father was the lighthouse keeper on the island, which meant my house had the best view on the whole island. I would often bring my date up to the edge of the cliff so we could watch the sun set into the western horizon. Things stayed that way for a while. Then the storm came.” At this point in the story, John paused and wiped the sweat that was starting to form on his brow, then continued. “It happened on July 17th 1958. It was a day just like this. There wasn't a cloud in the sky when I woke up, and the moon seemed closer than ever as it settled in the western sky. Then the clouds started to move in. Big, thick, gray clouds that covered the sky. But everyone thought it was just a regular summer storm. Then the rain fell harder, lightning flashed, the waves grew larger and rougher. Everyone retreated to their homes. Then the water began to rise. It might be hard to believe, but the ocean simply rose; rose to the point where the whole town became flooded. Waves shattered windows and took down houses. They dragged cars and boats out to sea. Even washed away people that didn't find refuge in their homes. It was all over by midnight. The sea retained its old level, and people slowly emerged from their houses. Well more than half of the town had drown in the storm, including my father who went to out to help save our neighbors after their house collapsed. After the storm struck, everyone remembered the legend they were always told as kids about the native and the witch. But no one spoke about it during the clean up time, out of fear of what would happen next. Many people rebuilt their houses and stores in the matter of a couple weeks, with the help of neighbors and friends. And by the end of the summer, the island was new once more. Only now it had a much different atmosphere in its air. The island got very little tourist after the storm hit. Then that was when those, creatures started to appear. They use to only come out at night, making their growling noises just before they went charged for their kill. After the second attack, the United States government stepped in. They declared the entire island a biological hazard zone, and forced all the resistance off the island, but everyone knew there was something deeper than what they told us. Then they took everything away; they took every boat, car, and plane on the island, boarded up every building, and left. The last thing they did before leaving, was put me in charge of the lighthouse. Since my father died in the storm, and since I was eighteen, they told me I was to make sure the lighthouse ran properly. Every ten years, the storm always repeats itself. The whole island is once more flooded, only now the waves no longer destroy anything. No matter how violent the seas are, they simply splash against the buildings, not even leaving a water line when it's all over. They seem to only care about me since I am the last human, for which each new storm, the waves come closer and closer to my house. And I fear this year may be the year that they finally get me. So that is where my past comes to an end, and the present takes over.” As John finished his story, he let out a great sigh, and gave a big smile in Danielle's direction.
“I have a question.” Danielle said.
“Shoot”
“Why didn't the government give you a boat?”
Another sigh from John. “They did, but I was naïve, and I forgot to bring it up onto shore when the first storm hit, and when it was over, I found the boat in countless pieces on the beach.” John said.
“You didn't build another one?” Danielle asked, with a puzzled look.
“I thought about it. I even tried a couple of times, but they always failed. Then as I grew older, I felt no need to leave this island. I have everything I need here, food, water, electricity, my radio, books, and well, this had been my home all my life, I have no need to leave.” John said, with a look of relief in his eyes.
Danielle said nothing for a while, thinking about what the old man said, then at last she asked the question she'd been wondering about all day.
“What about those symbols I saw? What do they mean? And the boat, and the helicopter?”
“The boat was sent out to try and rescue people during the storm, but the rough sea crashed it up onto the beach. The same happened with the helicopter.” John said.
“And the signs?” Danielle asked again.
“The signs are the markings of the Robed Men.” John said, with a slight look of fear in his eyes.
“Who are they? I thought you said you were the only human on the island?” Danielle asked in a fearful, yet puzzled tone.
“I've only seen them twice, and I only call them men because that's what they look like, but I doubt that they're men at all. They wear long, hooded robes of either black or red that cover their entire body. The first time I saw them they were huddled on the boardwalk, eight or so of them, all standing in a circle simply staring at the ground motionlessly. I was armed with my shotgun at the time, but I found it unwise to bother them or bring attention to myself. The second time I saw them was again on the beach, and again they were simply standing in a circle looking at the ground. They only come out at sunset from what I can tell, and they only stay on the beach or the land close by. My guess is that's why the beach seems to have strange powers. Time seems to stand still, and distance can no longer be measured. Things seem closer than they are, or further than in reality. I have no doubt that they are the spawn of the witch that once lived here, and I'm sure that you've seen the place where they sleep during the day.”
“The black house?” Danielle asked, not wanting to think about that horrible, ambient black.
“Yes, the black house on the cliff. They are the only thing on this island that I truly fear. The creatures can be killed, but I don't believe bullets can kill the Robed Men.” John said with a look of dread.
Danielle said nothing, only nodded in agreement.
“So what's the reason behind the lights on your lawn?” Danielle asked to break the silence.
“The Robed Men don't like bright lights, and neither do the creatures. They don't like surprises either, so I have them hooked up to my house in case of an attack.” John explained.
“Where do you get the electricity?” Danielle asked.
“The government installed a hydroelectric generator under the lighthouse that is powered by the tidal power when the water goes in and out of the cave that it's located in.” John said.
“Have you ever had to use the lights?” Danielle asked.
“No, not yet”
“What about the shack? How did you build this?” Danielle persisted.
“Well, every time a new storm comes, I have to rebuild this shack with wood from the old hardware store downtown. There use to be a real house here, but the first storm knocked it down back in '58. I have a cellar under this shack, which is where I store all my guns and ammo, and where I hide during each storm.” John said.
Neither of them said anything for a long time after this. They simply listened to the rain pelt against the roof of the shack. The rain was now noticeably heavier and the wind blew harder against the shack, shaking it on its weak foundation. Danielle looked at her watch. It told her it was quarter past seven. Surely Jason will start to worry now. Danielle thought. But she knew that Jason wouldn't call the police or start searching for her for a long time, especially with the storm moving in. She moved to the small window in the shack that faced the ocean and looked outside. The western sky was lit a bright orange as the setting sun tried to burn a hole in the clouds as a last effort before it sank into the night. On the distant horizon Danielle could see the Adelaide Island to the south, and the mainland, which was only a small strip to the west.
“It's getting dark out. What are we gonna do about getting off the island?” Danielle asked.
“I fear that it might be too late to get off the island now. The main road is probably already flooded by the swamp, and the beaches will surely be underwater soon, if not already.” John said.
“So what are we gonna do?” Danielle asked.
“Wait out the storm and hope for the best. I've experience these storms four times, one more shouldn't be too hard” John said with a slight smile that was meant to comfort Danielle.
“Do you have a two way radio?” Danielle questioned.
“Use to, but it stopped working after the second storm hit back in '68 when my shack got flooded by the rain. Fried everything in here that ran on electricity except for the AM radio. Almost got fried myself.” John explained.
Lightening began to flash outside, illuminating the shack with a bluish light. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Come on, we should go down into the cellar now, it's no longer safe up here.” John said in an emotionless tone. John moved to the center of the shack and lifted up a large mat that covered a small, rectangular hatch. He twisted something and pulled up on it, opening up a black hole in the ground that smelled of earth and mold. “After you.” He said with that sarcastic grin.
Danielle went down the ladder reluctantly, not liking the feeling of the cold, wet dirt against her bare feet. Once John was down with her, he closed and locked the hatch above them, and swiped another switch that brought three bulbs to life, illuminating the cellar. The cellar was larger than Danielle imagined. In the corner she saw two large tanks, one was marked “OIL”, the other “WATER”. On the wall next to the tanks were rows of guns. There were shot guns, hunting rifles, and handguns of various size, shape, and model. On the far end of the cellar, as far away from the oil tank as possible, were a dozen crates marked “AMMO”. Danielle also saw other smaller boxes that said “MEDICINE” on them and had a large red cross painted onto the side. There was a panel of switches located next to the ladder, all labeled with masking tape that use to be a creamy white, but was now faded to an ugly yellow that showed small, brown spots of mold. The switch to the far left was labeled “Cellar”, the middle switch was labeled “Lighthouse”, and the switch to the far right was a large lever like switch that one would have to pull down with much force to turn on. That one was labeled “Emergency Lights-USE WITH CAUTION!” Below the three switches were another set of three lever switches. All of these were labeled “Generator”. Large, red and white wires ran from the panels, up onto the ceiling, then branched out. Some went into the ground on the opposite wall. Others disappeared into the shack above. While others ran into a tunnel on the far side of the cellar. Danielle didn't notice the tunnel until now. It was a narrow, yet tall tunnel that had concrete walls and arched ceiling. She could see no further than a couple feet into the tunnel before darkness hid the rest of it.
“Where's the tunnel lead to?” Danielle asked.
“The bottom of the lighthouse...in case the light goes out during a storm. I have another room filled with water and guns there as well in case something happens to this one.” John said.

Danielle and John once more sat in silence. Then John went into the shack and brought down the AM radio, but he was unable to get any reception in the earthen walls. Danielle sat and thought about everything that happened to her today. She thought about the story that John had told her. But most of all she thought about the storm that was coming. The storm that might kill them both. A storm that could kill them both if it wanted too. Then Danielle felt a sharp pain come from her feet. The splinters! I completely forgot about those, they must be pretty well infected by now. Danielle thought.
“Say, do you happen to have any antiseptics in that box of medicine?” Danielle at last asked.
John gave her a puzzled look. “Sure, I have some hydrogen peroxide and some iodine, not sure if it's any good though. Why?” Danielle lifted up her right foot toward John, who, even from across the room, could see two bright red circles forming under the caked on dirt of the cellar. “I see.” John said already moving toward the boxes labeled “MEDICINE”. He shuffled through the box that was on top, taking out small bottles, inspecting them, then putting them back with a look of disapproval. After a couple minutes of searching, he at last pulled out a small, brown glass bottle with a black top. As he brought it closer to Danielle she saw it was labeled “Iodine” in black letters on a strip of white paper that went around the fattest part of the bottle. “Not sure if it'll do much. Don't see any expiration date, but I'm not sure if that means it can last forever” John said with a smile.
“Well, it's better than nothing I suppose” Danielle said, returning the smile.
John unscrewed the cap, which doubled as a dropper. He put Danielle's foot on his knee, held it steady, and applied two drops of iodine to each cut. The iodine formed a thin film of brown that blended in with the surrounding dirt. Then he brought over an empty crate and placed her foot onto of it and told her to keep it still. He repeated the process with the other foot; then returned to sitting on the crate of his own, and continued listening to the rain and wind that came from above.
“Thanks.” Danielle said softly.
John said nothing, just made a quick nod of his head.
“So why does that switch for the emergency lights say 'use with caution'” Danielle asked, not liking the silence of the cellar.
“You sure ask a lot of questions don't you?” John said with an irritated smile.
“Sorry.” Danielle said, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“Nah it's okay, I was just messin' with you. It says that because if I don't turn off the light to the lighthouse at the same time, the generator will overheat and short circuit, leaving everything dark. And that's the last thing I want if those Robed Men or creatures come around. Any other questions?” John asked with that sarcastic grin that seemed to be a trademark of his.
“No, I'm all set, thanks” Danielle said, still feeling embarrassed.
Silence again. Danielle looked at her watch with now read nine thirty. Thunder rumbled louder and more frequently outside. The wind sounded like the inside of a tornado, and the rain sounded like a waterfall was on top of the small shack.
“Hey, would you mind if I took of of that wat-”
Suddenly there was a loud splitting sound from above them, then a crash that shock the entire cellar, causing small clumps of the ceiling to fall down.
“Well, there goes the shack” John said with a sigh and a look of despair. “But yes, you can have as much water as you want, I have some dried meat as well if you're hungry”
Danielle got up, walked over to the tank, took one of the glass cups that was on top of it, and unscrewed the cap that was toward the bottom of the tank. Clear water poured out in a steady stream, quickly filling her glass. She drank the icy water in three large gulps, then filled the glass again and took another three large sips of water. John was staring at her with large, curious eyes, but said nothing. She sat back down on her crate and placed the half empty glass of water on the ground.

Most of the night was spent in silence. Danielle thought, and John listened to the passing storm. Then around ten thirty, Danielle noticed water was beginning to drip from the hatch, and was forming long streaks of water that ran down the dirt wall. John did not notice the dripping since his back was turned to the wall. When Danielle finally pointed it out, the section behind the ladder had become a dark brown and the dripping was becoming a small stream.
“Does that usually happen during these storms?” Danielle asked, pointing to the wall behind John.
John turned his upper body around to look where she was pointing. “No, that's never happened before.” John said, trying to sound calm. He walked over the the wall, ran his hand against the now damp dirt, which became smeared a dark brown. His right eye gave a slight twitch as he stared blankly at his muddy hand. Then he clapped both hands together and rubbed the mud against his hands until it seemed to disappear, then sat back down on his crate. The water was now crawling across the floor, reminding Danielle of the blood she saw coming from the creature earlier that day. The water crawled to the center of the floor, then dropped down into a metal drain and disappeared.
Around eleven, Danielle could hear the crashing of the waves against the rocky cliffs that were behind them. Each wave shock the entire cellar, sending a shudder through her body with each crash. Then Danielle saw something that made her scream, making John jerk awake from a brief nap.
“What?! What's wrong?!” John yelled.
Danielle pointed franticly at the drain in the center of the floor. John looked down at it, jumping back himself when he saw what she was pointing at. Water was bubbling up through the mesh grid that made up the drain, and the cellar floor was flooding quickly. Bewildered and unsure what to do, John and Danielle could only stare at the water that was crawling across the dirt floor. John came to his senses when the water reached his shoes, sending a cold, dampness up through his body. He grabbed Danielle's wrist, grabbed a shotgun from the wall behind her with his other hand, and started toward the tunnel with Danielle stumbling behind him. Right before he went into the tunnel he stopped, and looked back over at the wall of guns. He let go of Danielle's wrist and walked back to the wall, grabbed a shiny, silver pistol and handed it to Danielle.
“Ever use one of these before?” He asked Danielle.
Danielle had been to a shooting range the year before with Jason, who owned a hunting rifle himself, but she was always afraid of guns, especially the recoils.
“Yeah, I don't have very good aim though.” Danielle said.
“But you can shoot one?” John repeated.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, that's good enough for me.” John said with false satisfaction.
Just before going into the dark tunnel John grabbed a box of ammo from the crate next to the entrance; the small cardboard box was labeled “Shotgun Ammo”. He also grabbed the AM radio and held it against the side of his chest with his elbow. John flipped on another switch on the inside of the tunnel, bringing life to half a dozen bulbs. The tunnel was about fifty yards long, and was built on a slight incline that led up to the base of the lighthouse. The concrete walls were smooth and light gray and they reflected the weak florescent lighting on their glossy surface. The tunnel was no more than three feet wide, forcing Danielle and John to go single file. The sides of the tunnel were lined with everything from ammo, to canned food, which made it difficult to navigate through the tunnel without tripping. When they finally got to the basement of the lighthouse, Danielle guessed that they were now about five or six feet higher than they were in the cellar. The room below the lighthouse was circular, and had a diameter of about twenty feet. The walls were lined with even more guns than the cellar, and there were another dozen crates of ammunition on the far side of the room. A spiral staircase was located in the middle of the room which let up to a large, steel hatch. To the right of the doorway was another tank labeled “WATER”, and to the left, a similar tank labeled “OIL”. On the far side of the room, next to the boxes of ammunition, was another large metal panel with switches. She could see even from across the room that they were labeled the same as they had been in the cellar. John walked across the room and pulled down on the lever labeled “Cellar”, which made an audible clicking noise as it was locked into place. He did the same with the one labeled “Tunnel”, and the lights behind her went black again. Next he grabbed two crates labeled “Ammo” and dragged them over toward the center of the room. He looked up at Danielle, then patted his hand on one of the crates as an invitation to sit down. Once seated, Danielle looked at her watch; it said eleven thirty.
“When does the storm end?” Danielle asked
“Midnight. It always ends at midnight” John said.
“How will we know when it's over?” Danielle continued.
“You'll hear three loud noises that sound like gunfire, but are actually three bolts of lightening striking the tip of the lighthouse, each one is about a second apart. Then the earth will shake violently for another ten seconds or so. Then when that's done...complete silence.” John said.
Silence again filled the small cavity of space that Danielle and John shared. Danielle was trying her best to mentally prepare herself for when the storm reached its peak. She had been scared of lightening ever since she was a little girl, only now she did a better job at holding back her frightful tears. After another twenty minutes of silence, it was John's turn to break it.
“What time is it anyway?” He asked.
Danielle looked at her wristwatch. “It's about ten of twelve.” She said.
He nodded, got up from his crate, and walked over to the panel with the electronic levers. He found the one labeled “Lighthouse”, and pulled it down with little effort into the off position, creating that same clicking sound as before.
“Why did you do that?” Danielle asked.
“Don't want it to short out when the lightening hits in ten minutes” John said.
Danielle gave a nod of understanding, then resumed her preparation for when midnight struck.

Although she told herself she wouldn't jump when it happened, nothing prepared her for the sound the lightening made when it struck. When it happened Danielle jumped up from her crate and let out a small scream, but was able to keep most of it down in her throat. Danielle thought the entire sky was ripping into two pieces above them when the first one hit. Then the second one struck and the ground shook, and after the third cracking noise, the ground began to shake violently back and forth, just like John had said. Pieces of concrete fell off of the walls and ceiling, hitting the floor and shattering like glass. Danielle sat on the floor in a fetal position and hugged her legs tightly until the earth was at still once more. John didn't move even the slightest during the entire ordeal. When it was all over, Danielle stood up, still shaking herself. The rain had stopped pelting the ground, and the wind was no longer able to be heard. Silence had fallen upon the island. Then John stood up, walked over to the switchboard, and lifted the switch labeled “Lighthouse” into the on position. He then walked over to the staircase and began to climb up it.
“Come on, let's take a look around, see how bad the storm hit the island.” John said, his smile reappearing.
Danielle followed reluctantly up the staircase. John unlocked the metal hatch and pushed hard against it until it fell on the concrete floor of the lighthouse with a loud bang that made Danielle jump again. He climbed through the hole, then helped Danielle through it as well. It was about thirty feet to the top of the lighthouse, and there were steep, black, metal stairs that wound around the body of the lighthouse like a screw. There was a thick iron door to the left of Danielle that led to the house, and another panel of switches next to it. Only now there were only two switches. One labeled “Lighthouse”, the other labeled “Emergency Lights-USE WITH CAUTION!”. There was a string of lights that led up the staircase to the top where the lens was located. Danielle was surprised by the lack of windows in the body, but figured they served little purpose when you have large windows at the top.
“Come on, I know it's a good climb to the top, but you can see the whole island up there.” John said with a smile as he started up the stairs. “I swear this old hunk of metal can survive anything that witch throws at it.” John said, still holding that smile on his face as they passed the halfway point in the climb. “Don't know how this baby holds up but I'm not com-” John stopped cold in his tracks. He stopped so suddenly that Danielle almost ran into him.
“Hey! What was that for?! You scared the-”
“Shut up and listen!” John yelled.
Danielle did just what he said. She listened carefully, then she heard what he was talking about. Outside the steel walls, she could hear the faint sound of growling. The same growling she heard just before she saw the creature. John was looking down at Danielle with large, gaping eyes. It was the first time Danielle ever saw the look of fear in his eyes. Then, before she could say anything, he started sprinting up the metal stairs toward the top. Danielle struggled to keep up with him. The jagged metal stairs poked small holes into the bottoms of her feet with each step. When she reached the top, John was staring out the large windows with the lens behind them. He was scanning the ground below them franticly, which was shrouded in darkness. Danielle saw them before John did; their bright, yellow eyes stood out perfectly in the midnight darkness.
“There! They're over there! At the edge of the forest!” Danielle shouted, pointing frantically.
John quickly readjusted his gaze to where she was pointing. He saw the beasts as well. There were nearly a dozen of them, all staring up at them motionlessly at the edge of the woods. Then they started their charge toward the lighthouse. John raced to a panel located on one of the eastern windows. There were two switches one it. He pulled both of them down at the same exact time. Suddenly, the entire lawn was ablaze with light, the forest shone brightly like mid afternoon. At the same moment, the light that shone on Danielle's back went dark, and the rotating lens came to a sketching halt on its metal tracks. The creatures, stunned by the surprise burst of light, slowly shrank away back into the forest. But John was quicker. The moment the floodlights were on, he busted open the door that led to the balcony, pumped his shotgun, took aim, and fired into the night. Danielle saw one of the creatures fall motionless onto the grassy noel that made up the front lawn. John pumped the shotgun again with little effort, took aim, and fired again. Another creature fell; dead before it hit the ground. By now most of the creatures had retreated back into the woods, out of range from John's shotgun. John then reached around to the inside of the door and grabbed a long hunting rifle that was leaning against the panel with the switches. He placed it on his shoulder, knelt down on the steel mesh of the balcony, cocked the gun, looked into the scope, and spotted one of the creatures with his still youthful eyesight. A loud crack filled the lighthouse's body as he fired, the recoil nearly knocking him against the glass windows, but was able to regain his balance before his skull hit the metal molding. Danielle heard a low, grunting sound coming from the woods, and when she looked out, she saw another creature fall to the ground in the illuminated forest. John reloaded quickly, and took aim again, but by now all the creatures had managed to retreat out of sight, leaving the two of them alone again, under a now cloudless sky.
John and Danielle sat in silence, catching their breath and waiting for something to happen. After an hour of waiting, Danielle asked the question that had been on her mind since the creatures fled.
“So, what do we do now?” She asked.
“We wait.” John said.
“Wait for what?”
“Daybreak. That's when we'll head out across the island so we can get you home” John said.
“And what about you?” Danielle asked.
“I'm already home.”
“But you're not safe here. You can live with my husband and I, my parents own a summer house out near Reedsport, I'm sure they'll have no problem with you living there, especially after I tell them how you saved my life...on more than one occasion.” Danielle said.
John said nothing, just stared at the eastern horizon, waiting for the sun to break through the dark barrier of stars and space, gun cocked and ready if there should be any surprises. When the sun finally broke the horizon with a show of orange and reds, John went back inside the lighthouse and switched both of the levers back to their original positions. The floodlights turned off, darkening the woods once more. Danielle could hear the jerking sounds of the lens's motor starting up. John went down the staircase, into the body of the lighthouse and returned a couple minutes later with the AM radio in his hands. He flipped the on switch into position, and adjusted the radio to try and get a signal in the unobstructed sky. The radio at first emanated only static, then the crackly voices of the local Reedsport news station emerged from the white noise. What Danielle heard on the radio sent a chill up her back.
“In other news, a local summertime resident, a Mrs. Danielle Forester was reported missing late last night. Police plan on a thorough search of her last known location, which they believe was on Horseshoe Neck where they found her abandoned car around midnight last night. Unfortunately due to last night's storm, all efforts to look for Mrs. Forester have been put off until today. Local police fear that Mrs. Forester may have been caught up in the storm, and may have found refuge on nearby Umpqua Island. Our prayers go out to the family and friend's of Mrs. Forester and we-” Danielle turned off the radio, not wanting to hear anymore.
“We should head out now, it took me most of the day to get here, I don't want to spend another night on this forsaken island” Danielle said, already getting up.
“Sure, but, we aren't going back on the beach, we're taking the road.” John said, getting up as well.
“Why are we taking the road? Isn't that dangerous?” Danielle said.
“Not as dangerous as taking the beach. I don't want to have an encounter with those robed men...besides, the beach has weird effects on your mind, I don't want any part of it.” John said, shaking his head and raising his hands in the air in an act of surrender.
“I thought you said they only came out during sunset?” Danielle asked.
“I also said I know very little about them and have only seen them twice. For all I know they could never sleep at all. Besides, do you really want to walk past that boat and house again?” John said.
Danielle said nothing, knowing that he already knew the answer.
Both of them walked down the staircase that led to the base of the lighthouse, this time Danielle was in the lead. John opened the metal hatch, went down into the basement, and emerged soon after with a multitude of guns and ammo, as well as two large glasses of water. He handed one of the glasses to Danielle, who drank the water slowly, knowing it may be the last drink she'll have for a while. Next, John sorted through the weapons that he had taken from the local sporting goods store. He handed Danielle another handgun, a knife, and a short, pump action shotgun, along with a pair of extra cartridges of ammo for the handguns.
“I have a funny feeling that we may have to fight our way off this island.” John said, reloading his own shotgun and stuffing cartridges into the pockets of his faded, ripped jeans. When he was finished choosing his weapons, which now consisted of a shotgun, the hunting rifle he used earlier, and two handguns, he opened the heavy, steel door that led to the front lawn. “After you.” He said with a slight raise of his eyebrows, his hand gesturing toward the early morning sky. Once they were both outside, John closed the door and locked it, then led the way back toward town. “Once we get past the town and go into the woods, prepare yourself for anything and always keep your eyes open.” John said.
“I've been doing just that since I set foot on this island” Danielle said.
“Good.” John said, nodding. “I've been meaning to ask you, how exactly did you end up on this island anyhow?”
Danielle told him her story of everything that happened to her the day before as they walked down the road that would lead them to the town, and eventually into the swampy heart of the island. John listened with much interest during the whole story, making sure not to interrupt. She finished telling her story when they got to the fountain, which coincidently, was when John came into the story the day before. The body of the creature had been washed away in the storm, but little else about the town had changed, just like John said would happen. The only remains of the creature was a large, dark red spot a couple feet away from the fountain; she knew it was the blood of the creature, permanently stained into the asphalt. Now it was only a short walk across the center of town, then the seemingly endless woods.
At the edge of the town, before the darkness of the woods took over, Danielle spotted a faded, almost illegible wood sign. Danielle could barely read the greeting, but once she was directly in front of it, she saw that it said “Welcome to Brookport! The Sunniest Town In Maine!” Once they were inside the forest, the trees hung over the road, blocking out most of the mornings sunlight. The combination of the trees and the thin sunlight formed long, strange shadows across the blacktop. Danielle already had the feeling that she was being watched by those yellow eyes. John was walking in front of her, constantly looking around, making sure nothing jumped out or emerged from the shadows. They crossed nearly half of the island when the sun was at its highest, and still they hadn't encountered any of those creatures. To their right, the forest suddenly split open and sunshine filled a large gap in the island's interior.
“What's that over there?” Danielle asked.
“That's the old airport that tourist use to use to get here. Some say the military also had a secret base there which is where those creatures came from. But I still think they're the spawn of that witch. Regardless though, I don't want to stick around and explore a place that's rumored to be the home of those things, so let's move quickly by.” John said.
As they passed by the entrance to the airport, something caught Danielle's eye. She turned her head toward one of old, rusty hangers that was across the airstrip. In front of it were scores of those creatures, all staring at her and John with narrow, yellow eyes.
“Uh, John, I think we might have a problem.” Danielle said, trying to hold back her hysterical fear.
John turned to the spot she was looking at, and froze in his tracks as well. The creatures let out a loud growl simultaneously, then got on all fours, and started racing across the airfield toward them. John ripped the rifle off his shoulder, cocked it, put his eye to the scope, and fired. Another loud crack split the air in the forest, and down went one of the creatures. He reloaded quickly, took aim again, and took another of the beasts down. The distance was closing fast, and there wasn't enough time to reload the rifle. He put the rifle back on his shoulder, picked up the shotgun, pumped it, and opened fire, spraying the creatures with half a dozen shells.
“Okay Danielle, we're gonna have to start runnin' real soon!” John yelled, already backing away from the entrance. He managed to get a few more shots in before the creatures were too close for even John's boldness to handle. Together, they started sprinting down the road. There were still half a dozen creatures, and John needed to reload his gun. They were closing the distance quicker than John could reload, and he soon was only inches away from the leader. Then the creature made a leap for John, and he could do nothing except stare at it as it grinned with its yellow teeth. Then there was a bang from in front of him, and the creature fell face down onto the pavement. When he turned his head to face forward, he saw Danielle stand a couple yards in front of him, pistol raised in her hands.
“Nice shot!” John exclaimed, grabbing her wrist as he passed by.
“Guess I have better aim than I thought.” Danielle said with a smile, and a newly found sense of pride.
John at last reloaded his gun, but when he turned around he saw that the creatures had stopped chasing them and started walking back to the airport. They took a brief rest to catch their breath after their near death experience. They were now almost three fourths of the way across the island, and the sun was still high in the cloudless sky. After another two hours they reached the end of the road. The road ended at an old ferry terminal that use to go from the Umpqua Island to Adelaide Island, but now the only thing that remained were the large steel beams and concrete slabs that made up the docks. Danielle could now see Horseshoe Neck across the small straight of water that now seemed much wider than it had been yesterday. A feeling of hope rose in Danielle's heart when she saw what was on the beach on Horseshoe Neck. On the beach was a small congregation of people who were in the process of inflating a dark blue raft that had the words “Reedsport Police” printed in white on the side. Danielle began to shout as loud as she could at the people, but she was too far away to be heard. Then John raised his rifle into the air, and fired, sending another ear splitting crack through the air. The people across the straight turned their heads quickly toward the island. Danielle then began waving her arms in the air frantically and jumped up and down, yelling as loud as she could. They at last spotted her, and singled back with a wave of their own. Danielle started to run across the open beach toward the edge of the water where she planned on waiting for the boat to come.
“Wait! Watch out!” John shouted.
Confused, Danielle looked back at him. “Why? What's wrong?” She asked.
“Look!” John said, point the the south.
Danielle turned her head, and saw the thing that she dreaded the most, the Robed Men. There were four of them, all moving swiftly across the sand. In fact, Danielle didn't think they're feet touched the sand at all, instead they simply floated across the sand. Their hoods covered their faces and the only thing you could see was their pale white noses. Danielle froze, unable to move. Then suddenly another cracking sound came from behind her, and she saw a large hole form in one of the hoods, but still the Robed Man continued his journey across the beach, not even taking notice of the bullet. John ran up next to Danielle, grabbed her hand, and started running toward the straight.
“We're gonna have to swim across, and hope that those people with the raft get here quickly” John said, already out of breath.
They ran into the straight at full speed, making the water all around them form large arches of sparkling droplets that crashed back down moments later. John threw down his rifle and handguns, and strapping his shotgun over his shoulder. Danielle was already starting to swim across the straight when she heard John fall into the water. She turned around, and saw that he had tripped over something, and splashed face first into the water. The Robed Men were closing the distance fast. Danielle started racing back toward him, hoping to drag him away before they could get to him. They both got to him at the same time, Danielle grabbed his arms, while the Robed Man grabbed one of his ankles. John let out an agonizing, painful scream. Danielle yanked as hard as she could, and John kicked the Robed Man with his free leg. After a brief struggle, Danielle and John managed to release the grip the Robed Man had on John's ankle. They swam as fast as they could for the shore across from the straight. The rescue boat was now on the water as well, but it was in a dead tie with the Robed Men who seemed to be picking up speed. They met with the boat when they were halfway across the straight. The men in the boat began to pull them up, and Danielle was yelling hysterically for them to get John in quickly. They managed to drag John up as well, narrowly missing the second swipe of the Robed Man's hand.
“Why were you screaming and swimming so frantically? We were planning on coming over to pick you up.” The rescuer asked, slightly puzzled.
“The men...those men...the...the ones in the...robes...didn't you see them?” Danielle said, out of breath.
“What men? You two are the only people on that island.” The rescuer said, even more puzzled.
Danielle looked back at the island where only moments ago was being chased by those Robed Men. Now she saw nothing, just the calm waves beating against the soft beach. Stunned, Danielle could only stare at the island that had become her prison for the past day.
“Well then how do you explain this?” John said, point to his ankle which had a bright red hand print slapped across it.
“Sunburn?” The rescuer said, trying his best to cover up his uncertainty.
Neither John nor Danielle said anything. John was looking back at the island that had been his home for six decades, with a feeling of both sadness and relief. When they finally landed on Horseshoe Neck, Danielle and John were brought to an ambulance. Just before they closed the doors, they took one last glimpse of the now uninhabited island. An island that was already beginning to disappear into the ocean forever.

This story is by far the longest I've ever written, being a staggering 25 pages long, and over 16,000 words. Normally I don't like long "short" stories, but I felt this one needed to be this length. I started this story in early January, but dropped it for a while when I started to run out of ideas. It wasn't until mid February that I took up writing it again, and eventually completely it with all imaginary thought drained (Yes...even writers get overworked) but I felt it was all worth it. Although it's not my favorite story, it taught me a lot from writing it, such as character development, dialogue, tone, and an extended plot. I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to tell me your thoughts.

My Second News Article

With summer vacation approaching faster than you may think, many of you may have already started planning your annual summer vacation trip. While others may have decided that there will be no trip at all this year due to the economic crisis that has parlayed many Americas and forced them to cut out needless spending. Many of you are probably planning trips to well known places like Disneyland, Disney World, Virginia Beach, or Las Vegas. And although I have never had the pleasure of visiting many of these popular tourist destinations, I have been to many places across the Northeastern United States, and Canada; all of which have a much lower price tag than many of the tourist hot spots.

For as long as I can remember, my parents have always shown my brother and I new places. What started with simply driving around Western Massachusetts, soon extended to the infamous Cape Cod, and eventually the boundaries of discovery had no limits too them. I have traveled everywhere from Prince Edward Island in Canada, to Niagara Falls, to Ocracoke Island in North Carolina. I have been to thirteen states, and five Canadian provinces, experiencing the culture and history of each. People tend to find it surprising to know that I have never been in an airplane before. However, I simply have no desire to ever take a plane as a means of travel. I feel that when you fly high above the land you are passing over, you miss out on that feeling of discovery and adventure. And most of all, you miss out on any sort of learning experience that you can get from driving in a car.

One of my favorite trips that I took with my family was when we visited the White Mountains in New Hampshire, then continued up into Quebec, Canada. Unfortunately, nearly a week before we left for our trip, we heard the news that The Old Man on the Mountain had collapsed into the rock pile below. And although we were deeply saddened that we would not be able to see a famous rock formation that had stood for nearly seven million years, our time spent in the White Mountains was still enjoyable. After our stay in New Hampshire, we traveled further north into the barren woods of northern New Hampshire. While traveling, we came upon the lakes where the Connecticut River starts, and even drove over a stream no wider than seven feet that had a sign saying “Conn. River” next to it. At the Canadian boarder we were greeted by a jolly, Canadian customs agent that seemed happy to see any sort of human life during his long day of waiting in the woods of southern Canada. Once we entered into Quebec though, things started to go downhill. Every sign was in French only, many of the people we met were rude to us, and no matter where you went in Quebec the air had the stench of sulfur that was emanating from the numerous asbestos mines. We learned later that this section of Quebec happened to be one of the leading producers of asbestos in the world. While in Quebec we visited the towns where my ancestors came from, as well as visited the graves of various family members. After that, we went to Quebec City, which is typically seen as the cultural hub of Quebec. In Quebec City we visited the parliament building where Quebec governs its province. We also visited the citadel and fort that was used during the French and Indian War. Although I think my favorite part was walking down the narrow, stone paved streets of the historical district in Quebec City. Buildings with stunning architecture that once housed everything from blacksmiths to bakers, have now become home to gift shops, fancy restaurants, or high class housing. Over all, I feel that Quebec gave me a cultural experience that no other place in North America could possibly give. Being a French Canadian myself, I enjoyed seeing the places where my ancestors once called home and seeing the culture that they grew up in. Although I'm still wondering how they dealt with that horrible smell.

No matter where you travel to, you are bound to learn something about that place. Whether it be the geography, history, or culture of that land, traveling is always the best way to learn something in a hands on manner. Now imagine just how much more you could experience if you got out and explored more. For example, say you took a plane down to Orlando for your summer vacation trip to go to Disneyworld. Although you would get there much faster than you would by car, you are also missing out on some of the most historical and beautiful land this country has. You would have missed places like Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, where one of the most exciting, and decisive battles in the Civil War was fought. You would miss our nations capital, Washington DC and all its rich history and architecture. You would pass by lesser known, yet equally as important places like Kitty Hawk, North Carolina where the first airplane was flown. Or Independence Hall in Philadelphia where our Declaration of Independence was signed. Not to mention the countless towns, rivers, and mountains you would simply fly right over, oblivious to their existence and picturesque beauty. With gas prices at low prices, the possibilities are almost endless for where you can travel to by car.

Family trips however, do not have to be to far and distance places across the country. In fact they can be right here in your own backyard in Western Massachusetts. If you are simply looking for something to do on a lazy weekend, there are countless spots scattered across Western Massachusetts, that are just waiting for someone to explore them. Places like Mt. Holyoke offer a beautiful view of the Connecticut Valley. While places like Deerfield are rich in history from the French and Indian War. Or take a visit to Florida. Florida, Massachusetts that is, where you can see the Hoosac Tunnel, which still remains one of the longest tunnels in the country. All of these, and many more are all within a days drive from you, and I guarantee that you will not be disappointed by any of them. So this summer, I dare everyone to take a trip someplace that doesn't have a theme park, expensive hotels, or casinos. Go someplace that not only will keep money in your wallet, but also a place that will put knowledge and experience into your heart and mind.

This was the second article I've written for the paper. It has yet to be published, but it's looking promising. Once more, even though many of the local spots I mentioned will be alien to anyone not from Massachusetts, the message still remains the same.

My First News Article

Today’s society is filled with technology. Everything from iPods to cell phones fill up our lives with constant entertainment to the point where we have very little time for peace and quiet. This has caused our modern world to give books and authors a backseat role in our lives. If I asked you to name some famous authors, how many could you come up with? I am sure you could name some classic novelists such as Mark Twain, Jules Verne, and H.G. Wells. You might even be able to name a couple of well-known modern authors like Tom Clancy, Stephen King, or J.K. Rowling. Now what if I asked you to name as many actors, actresses, or musicians as you could think of, how many can you list now? I can say with a fair amount of certainty that your list of movie stars and singers is much longer than your list of authors. This should show us how unappreciated some of the world’s greatest novelists, and their work is in today’s society.

I myself am a person who enjoys sitting down and reading a good novel or short story, and am familiar with many authors both present and past. Recently, I have been reading stories from an author named H.P. Lovecraft, whom my father had introduced to me. This author is virtually unknown to the general public, yet he is ironically enough, considered to be one of the greatest American authors of all time. He was a leading pioneer in the genres of science fiction, horror, and fantasy, and he inspired many future authors such as Stephen King. I soon discovered that one of Lovecraft’s stories; The Dunwich Horror, was inspired during his visit to Wilbraham, Hampden, and Monson. Since I am a resident of Monson, I naturally became intrigued by this finding, and wanted to learn more about it. After doing a little bit of research on the internet, I discovered that H.P. Lovecraft stayed in the house of Evanore Beebe in Wilbraham. The article also said that Lovecraft got his inspiration for The Dunwich Horror after seeing the nearby house of Randolph Beebe that was in an “Abandoned and dilapidated state”. This roused my curiosity even further, since my grandparents live in an old house on a Beebe Road in Wilbraham. And after going to the town records at the Wilbraham Public Library, I learned that Randolph Beebe was the former owner of my grandparents’ house during the same time that Lovecraft had visited.

Needless to say, this discovery shocked me: a house I had visited so many times inspired the work of a great American author, yet almost nobody knew about it. But Lovecraft’s story of The Dunwich Horror has many other connections to Wilbraham. Such as in the opening paragraphs he talks about the town of Dunwich being located next to “Large, rounded mountains”. And he also mentions a spot in the town where “Once you go over the hill and descend into a valley, you come across a swamp”. This is a clear connection to the swamp located on the east side of Wilbraham Mountain.

I find it amazing knowing how much history is located in Western Massachusetts that we don’t even know about, like how a great American author has based some of his stories on our local towns and land. And this leads me to asking the question of how much more is there to still discover? What other stories may be connected to our towns and cities? But I suppose the best way to answer all these questions is to simply pick up a good book, and read, since you never know what you might discover.

I wrote this article for my local newspaper, and it has since been published after a couple months of waiting. Obviously if you aren't from around the area I live, you'll likely have no idea what it is I'm talking about when I mention locations, but the message still remains the same I suppose