by Kenneth Black

Created on: September 16, 2008

Prologue
Sorrow Island, 1911

"I'm bad," the little girl stated flatly. "But that's okay. I can deal with it."

"Don't say that," said her light-haired friend.

"But it's true," she replied. "Why else would we be here?"

Laura could not argue with her friend's words. There they were, out at night, when both of them should have been in bed, sleeping. Not that it mattered that much. School lessons could wait should they both oversleep in the morning. Now, here they were in the woods. Brittany had gone over to her friend's house, through scrub forest and uneven terrain, to the water.

That's where Laura lived. Now they were back in the forest. Truth was, neither of them knew why but that didn't matter to children, especially 11 year olds. Being social without specifics was good enough. The girls did not have many other friends. They lived largely in isolation on a barrier island off the coast of Florida. Laura's father was the harbor master. Brittany's father was a lighthouse keeper. That was their curse, bestowed upon them by their parents, who really had no idea what kind of curse it was at all.

Neither knew how long they had been there but from their conversation it must have been quite a while. A variety of topics were covered. Schools, cities, sharks, insects they ran the gambit. Now they were on the subject of Brittany's behavior.

"Well, I like it here. Whether it's bad we're here or not, it's still a nice place. Though you can't see much in the dark, can you?" Laura asked.

"Exactly," Brittany replied. "As I just"

A twig snapped. Both girls listened intently as they heard something shuffling through the scrub pine, immature oak, palmetto and ferns. Laura wanted to know what it was. Brittany did not. Brittany's hands became cold. Laura was sweating. By this point, as the sound persisted and grew louder, it became painfully obvious that it was coming right toward them. If not aware of them, it soon would be.

The breaths the two girls took became shallower and more frequent as they peered into the darkness. But it was a moonless night, nearly pitch black. Brittany took Laura's hand and the two began crawling away from the other movement. But even though Brittany was a child, she knew that the crunching of dead leaves would bring the intruder even faster.

She stopped and listened. The monster was approaching. She could tell.

"Laura, you must get up and run," she whispered.

"But what about you," her friend replied.

"Don't worry about me," Brittany said. "Remember? I can take care

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