The Curse Keepers

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The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew he was trouble.

He stood in the doorway of the New Moon restaurant, filling the space with his tall, slightly muscular frame and sucking the air from the room. Literally. As I focused on inflating my chest with the limited air supply, I tried to ignore the warning bells ringing in my head.

Always listen to your instincts.

My instincts had been honed by years of working as a waitress in a tourist town. You learn a lot about people working with the public.

From the beginning of May until the middle of September every year, my town of Manteo on Roanoke Island, North Carolina, was overrun with tourists. They came to see our quaint little town but mostly to see the alleged site of the first English colony to settle in North America, the Lost Colony of Roanoke. Everyone had a theory about what happened to the colony that settled on the Roanoke Island shores over four hundred years ago, from a massacre by neighboring Indian tribes to alien abduction. My family had their own take on what happened. A version I’d forgotten fifteen years ago, except for the very basics.

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