I live alone on an island. Something is knocking at my door.

Flashing lights. Noise. Blood. I jolted awake, desperate to escape my nightmare. I wiped my cheeks dry and I checked my watch. Just after four o’ clock. I doubt I’ll get back to sleep anyway, Might as well get the day started. I tried the bedside light. Nothing. Battery must have run out. Hopefully it’s sunny enough today and the solar panels can get the battery replenished. The gas generator was too noisy-it made it hard to focus on my work. I reached over, struck a match and lit the candle by my bed. The warm candle’s glow spilled over the room, chasing back the shadows. I tried to forget about my dream as I walked over to the mirror hanging on the wall. It was coming back to me more often. Eating at me like a parasitic worm burrowed in my brain.

My reflection was a sad sight. Bags under my eyes from sleepless nights. My messy, long hair was beginning to obscure my face. I reached down to my side as I had so often tracing a thick band of scar tissue with my finger. I tossed on a shirt and made my way to the kitchen sink to wash the sleep from my face. The candle light like a small beacon, showed the way. The wood stove was still glowing in the living room giving off an amber glow as it fought off the bitter autumn cold. Even for fall it was much colder than I was used to.

I made it to the kitchen, washed up, and grabbed the coffee percolator. I always had it ready to go and I set it on top of the wood stove. As I sat down at my desk the candle light shone over the scribbled pages. Notes and references all carelessly strewn about in my own organized chaos. I reached out and grabbed the book I had written three years ago: Murder on the Seventh Floor by Miles Walker. I didn’t dare to turn to the front pages. Instead I thumbed through to what were once my favorite parts and read, hoping a spark of inspiration would come. The percolator rumbled and I went to the stove, collected my coffee and went back to my old work, hoping some old magic would stir.

As the sun began to peek through the windows, I decide some fresh air would help calm my fraying nerves. I exited my little cottage and took in the salty, frigid air. My little cottage on my own little island. I imagined beaches-hot sunny days, umbrellas and people abound. Quite the opposite of this place I called refuge. I wandered to the water front as I had so often before. An endless span of dark blue ripples, and soft waves gently rolling on all sides. The rising sun shown across the water, sparkling like a million gems. A different time… a different life, it might have been amazing. I barely noticed.

Down at the dock, I checked my boat. It was my daily ritual. Check the ropes to make sure they were secure, check the engine and fuel. Everything was just as I had left it of course-but it was my only way to the mainland. I stood there and looked towards the little town on the shore. Shop lights were beginning to turn on and little movements could be seen. I turned away from the town and looked at the sign on my dock. No trespassing. Violators will be prosecuted. I walked back to my cottage and could see a light had turned on. I had power again.

I cooked my breakfast and sat back down at my desk. My computer screen stared at me blankly. Mocking. I need to write something! I can’t live off my book sales forever. I just started typing… it sucked and I deleted it. Idea after idea and it all felt like it had been done before. I would settle for just a title at this point. “The Killing of H…” My fingers froze over the keys as if they’d betrayed me. I deleted it. After what felt like an hour of staring I settled on “The Killing of Mary Ross.” I saved my pathetic attempt at work to make a grocery list.

Tomorrow was shopping day. My least favorite day. But I was a writer, not a farmer. My food and supplies were running thin. I tried to visit the mainland as little as possible, so if I missed anything I would have to go without for two weeks or make my dreaded trek early. I’ve made that mistake a few times since being here. With any luck, Clara wont be in a chatty mood. The rest of the day was spent on busy silence. Splitting wood into kindling, washing a few clothes and hanging them on the line to dry, and tiding the property. Not that it needed much. I had no new ideas, and nothing else to do.

As the sun began to set, I checked my bank account on my phone. This cold, isolated sanctuary cost me nearly my entire life savings I needed to get away and that I did. No place seemed to be far enough. If I could sell another book or two and some luck, I could live out my days here. In safe solitude. The night took hold and the shadows danced around my living room from the fiery glow. I set the wood stove for the night and forced myself to my bed. Sleep hadn’t come easy in months. Too many thoughts. Too many memories. All threatening my sanity. Eventually, sleep took me away and the nightmares came again. The tall buildings and amber glow of city lights everywhere. A scream and a sharp piercing blow. Blood everywhere. Red and Blue lights surrounded me.

I shot awake gasping like a diver coming up for air. Sweat and tears. But it wasn’t the dream that woke me up this time. It was a knocking on my front door. It was a light knocking. Just loud enough to hear it. I could barely hear my own shaky breath over my thundering heart beat. Who would come here? In the middle of the night? So much for the sign. I grabbed the revolver from my bedside table and crept to the door. I tried to see out the window who it could be. There was no knocking anymore but that didn’t mean I was safe. I opened the door, gun in hand.

Nothing.

Darkness. Even the ocean looked like ink spilled on a page. I stepped outside and looked around.

Nothing.

I returned inside and locked the door. Had I really heard it? Maybe it was just the creaking of an old cottage. Half convinced, I crawled into bed again, and the nightmares returned to keep me company.

My morning routine for shopping day was different. I put more effort into how I looked. Combed my hair and wore a nicer outfit. I didn’t want to bring any attention to myself. Don’t need anyone thinking I am wasting away out here. I gathered my list and departed the safety of my island. The cold ocean air chilled me to the bone. After thirty minutes of traveling I docked at the mainland. I secured my boat and exited. No sand in sight, just stones and mud and the occasional crab scuttling by. Not exactly your destination vacation.

Calder’s Fish and Tackle was always the first shop to be seen. The local fisherman always had plenty of fresh fish and stories to go with them. I’d get my fish on my way out. Calder was no where to be seen anyway and I would hear another story of some mermaid or giant creature he was always spouting on about. A true believer he was.

I followed the path from the docks to the town streets. A few shops were dotted along the road. There was Clara’s General Store, Elliott’s hardware, a pharmacy, a school. All the small town essentials. Elliott’s was my first and favorite stop. Quick and painless. I entered the shop with a bell ringing above my head. Elliot looked up and in his gruff, flat tone said, “Morning Miles. Running out of wood?” “Yes,” I replied. Elliot was sturdy with graying black hair. “its getting colder out there Miles. I’ll have James load up a bit more to get through those cold nights. I nodded wordlessly. Elliott rang me up and told his son to take the firewood to my boat and load it up. Elliott always kept the conversation to a minimum and that’s what I liked about him. His son James seemed like a good kid too. “Elliot, do you have any larger generators in stock? The days are getting shorter and I am relying on it more now.” Elliot replied, “What I have in stock is going to give you about the same run time. I can order one if you like but it wont be here for at least a week.” “I’ll take it and pick it up on my next trip back.” “I’ll have some extra gas for you too,” Elliot replied Now on to Clara’s.

I entered Clara’s shop to an excited, “Hi Miles! It’s so good to see you.” “Hey Clara,” I replied. Clara was always so friendly. Did she have to be? I don’t like being around her for too long. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tidy braid and her toothy smile reached her cheerful green eyes which were always looking in my direction. Clara was wonderful but her presence was cheerfully oppressive. This town is meant to be my peace, not another minefield of fake niceties. I walked around searching for the items on my list as Clara shout towards me from the counter, “How are you all by yourself on that island?” “Doesn’t it get lonely?” I shouted back politely, “Clara. Of course it gets lonely but that’s kind of the point of living alone right?” Clara continued to talk about how she could never live on an island alone and how she would be scared at night or something like that. I tried to politely keep to myself and shop.

I brought my collection to the check out counter. Clara began to scan my items and make small talk. “You’ve been here for a few months now and I only ever see you to shop. Why don’t you come see us for some town festivals or just to say hi?” I started to fidget nervously. Please hurry Clara. “I’m just not very social.” Clara continued to pester about how it wasn’t healthy and how I needed friends as I did my best to avoid her picking. I knew deep down she cared but she had no idea the turmoil she caused me. Then Clara said something that made me panic. “I read your last book you know. It wasn’t really my style but I thought with a famous writer in town I should read his work. Plus it gives us something to talk about.” I cut her off before any more awkwardness came about. “You’re right Clara. I should be a little more social. I’m going to work on that.” The lie seemed to satisfy her for now. I departed with a convincing fake smile.

I was getting worked up thinking about what Clara had said. Reading my book now. Thanks for the sale Clara but I don’t need to talk to anyone about my book. So what if I stay on the island. It’s mine isn’t it? I don’t get why she needs to be so intrusive and...

THUMP!

In my frenzied thoughts I crashed into someone, A young woman I hadn’t met yet. “Ouch,” I exclaimed loudly. She apologize profusely but I came to my senses. “No miss that was my fault. I wasn’t paying enough attention,” I said without looking up at her. When I finally did meet her gaze she was staring at me like a school girl with a crush. “You’re Miles Walker,” she said seeming to not realize she was nearly shouting. Uh...Yes. Have we met? “No. I’m Lisa Denton, the town librarian. I’m a huge fan of your work. Can I ask you a few questions about your books?” “Actually, I am in a bit of a hurry.” Clearly she didn’t hear me because she asked, “Where do you get your inspiration? How do you decide who you want to die and live? Are you working on another book. Will you sign my copy?” Her flurry of questions bombarding my mind. Torture. She held out her copy of my latest book. My palms started to sweat and my heart thundered.

I can’t do this!

I can’t. I won’t.

I did the only thing I could think of to change the topic. “How did you know I was here in town?” I asked her. “Clara told me that you come to town every two weeks. She said today was your shopping day and I went out looking for you. But you found me.” Can’t Clara take the hint that I don’t want to be bothered and now I am going to have to deal with this nut job fan every two weeks. “I really don’t mean to be rude but I usually don’t sign my works and I really need to be going.” Lisa looked like I had just ruined her day, but said, “I really hope we get to talk in the future.”

I rushed away from her back towards the docks. My last stop. Get some fish and get away from here. I reached Calder’s shop. He was tossing fish onto ice and getting his stock in order. “Afternoon Mr. Walker,” he said in his thick Scottish accent. “What can I get ye?” I picked out a few smaller fish and bagged them up. I tried to get out of anymore conversation for the day but Calder followed me to my boat. Insisted on carrying one of my bags for me. “How’s the island treating ye? Hope it’s been kind.” Why was everyone so concerned? Small towns were still a new scene for me. Your business was everyone’s business. “It’s been fine. Quiet.” “Aye, that’s a good sign. I tell ye lad the sea is an odd thing. Full of mystery and troubles. It’s good t’ hear these troubles haven’t reached yer’ door.”

I tried to reassure him everything was fine but Calder insisted on going about one of his rants. “I’ve seen things on these here waters. Figures, shadows, I even swear I seen a mermaid.” I rolled my eyes. “Mermaid’s aren’t real, Calder. You’ve been on the water too long in the hot sun.” Calder chuckled, “Aye lad. That I have. Still, ye be careful out there. Just because ye can’t see the wind, don’t mean it ain’t there.” I gave him a nod and he dropped off my bag and waved as I returned to the island.

I reached the island and my sense of peace returned. Time to unload and see if I can make some progress. I spent the rest of my afternoon unloading my groceries and stacking the wood by my chopping block. The days work had caught up to me. Exhausted, I ate my dinner trying to focus my mind on work. Fighting off sleep, I actually got a bit of writing done. It felt like it was starting to flow. We will see if this continues I thought as I clawed my tired body to bed.

“Blood pressure dropping. We need to get him to a hospital now,” said the unseen male voice. Dreams of hospital beds and IV’s. A nurse came to my room but only managed to get out, “I’m sorry,” before I awoke in a cold sweat.

I heard it again- that knocking. My panic swelled as my hand began to shake uncontrollably.. It was louder this time. Steady and rhythmic. I did as before and grabbed my gun. I went to the door and threw it open. Dark emptiness only broken by the twinkling of fireflies and far off stars barely visible through the clouds. I closed the door and turned to go back to my bed when the knocking happened again. This time even louder. More urgent. Almost like someone pounding on a door for help. I threw myself into the night to look around. As I did I nearly slipped. There was water at my doorstep. Strange. It hadn’t rained tonight. The water was only at my threshold, as if something wet had been there, waiting. I looked back into my cottage and saw a figure in the window. It vanished as quickly as I had seen it. I rushed back inside. Too confused to rationalize what had happened. My sleep was sporadic and troubled.

I awoke to a stream of sunlight coming in my bedroom. I bolted up with a sense of dread. Someone is watch me. I could see a thin shadow in the corner of my bedroom. I looked over at it and it vanished. It’s just my mind. Keep it together Miles. There is nothing here. Another shadow, this time it was moving. I threw myself around to see what was creeping up on me and it vanished again. I told myself that I was being crazy and got up.

Coffee. I am imagining things. I must be. I decided that my routine would help calm me down. I walked to the dock and checked on the boat. I checked the dock too for any signs someone else might have visited last night. There was a spot of water on the dock. Just like at the door. I knelt to get a closer look. Something about it was off. It was rippling as if a stone was being repeatedly dropped into the puddle. I felt it again. Like a thousand eye starting through me. A pit formed in my stomach and I turned back to the cottage. A dark figure was in my window for just a flash.

I ran to the cottage and flung open the door. No one. My heart threatened to jump out of my chest. Something was going on. Search everywhere, I thought. Frantically I searched every inch of the building and found nothing. I nervously spent the rest of my day doing some chores, looking in every direction as I did. I went to bed at my normal time, exhausted from my paranoia but not remotely able to sleep. It was getting late but my mind would not stop racing.

I got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. The brightly lit house helped easy my racing thoughts. I poured myself a drink and sipped while staring at my computer. My progress slowed again. I just sat, staring at my title and drinking my bourbon. I fell asleep at my desk. I was thankful to only be visited by my nightmares.

The next two days passed without any odd occurrences. My daily routines were mundane and uneventful, which I was grateful for. The storm clouds were constant now and I ran the generator just enough to charge my phone and laptop. Chores and writing kept my thoughts away from troubles.

I exited my cottage in the dark. Blackness surrounded me like a cold, empty void. Walking soundlessly to the waterfront, I stared towards the town. I knelt and reached into the ocean. Recoiling my arm it was covered in a thick dark blood. The blood began to slide up my arm and over my body. It writhed and flowed like a fluid worm seeking to cover every inch of my body. It sought to take me. My mouth filled with iron and gagged me. Before it covered my eyes, I looked over the ocean surface and saw it was all blood. A massive black red pool surrounding me on all sides.

I jolted up in bed still early in the morning, dark outside. I wiped the sweat off my brow. When did I fall asleep? I lit my candle and sat by the fire sipping my coffee. I stared at my arm no longer doused in the blood of my nightmares but the cold slimy sensation persisted. The knocking began again. Pounding loudly as if someone was punching the door. Trying to break it down. I jumped and spilled my coffee. My heart raced and I thought about checking the door but why? There hasn’t been anything every time. What if I didn’t check? What could possibly go wrong? The pounding on the door continued for the next hour. The door would surely break, I thought. The sun rose and the knocking stopped.

I stood there for another ten minutes waiting for the knocking to start again. When it didn’t, I moved towards the door. I gently pushed it open and waited. The slowly moving water pooled at the door again. I walked around it and looked at the door. There didn’t seem to be any damage. I just stood there. My mind was a blur of trying to rationalize what just happened. I am a reasonable man. There are no ghosts, no monsters. Someone must be doing this. But who. There wasn’t anyone in town he could think of who would do anything like this. Someone from back home maybe? How would they know I am here?

I went back inside and got dressed for the day. I worked my day away, thinking more than working. My racing thoughts distracting me all day. Just after noon, I noticed the wind gathering speed and the clouds darkening. I was in for a noisy night. Afternoon turned to evening and my paranoia started to get the better of me. I’m not going to bed. I not going to sleep. I needed to figure out what was happening. I brewed more coffee and prepared to patrol my cottage all night. I placed the revolver on my desk. Just in case. I was determined to work on my writing but every creak and shadow made me jump. I peered at every shadow and flicker. It was impossible to concentrate.

2am. I looked away from my watch and took another sip of my coffee. How crazed I must look, jumping at shadows. My mind wandered to the island. To the town. To my life. My sadness grew. This should not be my life. The winds picked up. I could hear a howling and whistling throughout the night. The rain clinking heavily off my windows. 3am and I was beginning to drift off. Then it started again. No longer knocking, but thrashing at the door like a starved animal. A feverish torrent of blows. I grabbed the revolver and stood by the door shaking. My hands trembling so violently that I knew the revolver would be useless. Liquid shadows surrounding my vision. Vanishing every time I tried to focus on one but never leaving. The shadows were coming closer. I felt a wisp on the back of my neck and I turned violently, accidentally letting of a shot from the revolver. The shadowy presence filled the cottage. I opened the door and some unforeseen force pulled me outside, sending me crashing into the wet mud.

The knocking stopped. At least I thought they did. I couldn’t hear anything outside. The ocean waves were crashing like symbols. Volatile and thunderous. The wind threatened to knock me over with every gust. Soaked and muddy, I crawled to the cottage slipping and falling the whole time. I managed to get into the cottage and throw the door shut but as soon as it closed it I could hear the pounding again. I screamed at the door. “Leave me alone!” The pounding continued and the eyes of the shadows were on me again. I curled up in a corner in a feeble attempt to protect myself. The pounding continued and the shadows watched until daybreak while I recoiled into myself.

I stayed in my corner for a long time. Maybe I’ll go into town today. I don’t really need anything yet but I don’t know if I want to stay here again. But a thought crossed my mind. What could I even say to anyone? I’m hearing knocking at my door while I live alone on an island. I really don’t want a mental health arrest on my record. My cottage door was knocking and I’m seeing shadows was all I knew. I’m sure with the wind last night everyone’s house was rattling and my house was being lit by candles and a wood stove. Of course there was going to be shadows everywhere. I feebly convinced myself again. I just needed to stick to my routines. They kept me safe so far and they will keep me safe now.

I checked on the boat which was still clinging to the dock. I had to bail some water out of it but she was still holding up. I went back to the cottage and started up the gas generator. I needed some light. The generator would fill the battery some since the clouds persisted. I washed my clothes and hung them by the stove. I nibbled at some food and cleaned up the cottage. I cleaned up the mud and picked the revolver off the floor and put it in the bedside drawer. I stopped the generator and checked on the spare fuel. If I get a few days of sun I should be able to make this last.

Night came fast and I could feel my pulse quickening. At least for tonight I have light. I turned on the lamp on my desk and a wrote. I typed anxiously, making mistakes often as my hands were shaking. Would it return tonight? It was slow progress. My eyes darting around, looking for shadows. The night passed with nothing more than the sounds of the light wind and the calm ocean waves. The cottage felt bigger come morning. See, it must be stress.

My daily routines were caffeine fueled slogs. Two nights with no sleep probably wasn’t very healthy for the mind but I’d sleep tonight. Another day with cloud filled skies. I was getting worried. I ran the generator again just to top off the battery and then shut it down for the day. My gas was empty. I would need to go to the mainland early. Tomorrow it is then. I spent most of the day outside. I sat on the dock taking in the salty air. I noticed that my No Trespassing sign was gone. The wind must have pulled it into the ocean.

I couldn’t fight my need for sleep any longer. Exhaustion finally pulled me under into a rare, dreamless dark.

“Miles…”

The voice was soft, almost tender, and painfully familiar. It slid through the cottage like cold mist.

“Miles… I’m so cold.”

My eyes snapped open. My heart slammed against my ribs. I sat up slowly, every muscle tense. The voice hadn’t come from one direction — it seemed to come from everywhere at once.

“Miles… It’s your fault.”

The words hit me like a slap. Shame and terror twisted together in my gut. I didn’t want to move, but my legs carried me anyway. Bare feet creaking on the cold floorboards, I made my way to the front door, flashlight shaking in my hand.

The knocking had stopped. Everything had stopped. I gripped the handle, hesitated for one long second, then yanked the door open.

The island was gone.

Where there should have been rocks, grass, and wind-bent trees, there was only endless black water. It lapped gently against the cottage threshold, inches from my toes, shimmering faintly under starlight. The mainland, the dock, the world, all of it had vanished. The cottage now floated alone on a vast, motionless ocean.

A female figure stood out on the water. She was looking straight at me. Even through the darkness I knew her shape. The tilt of her head. The way her hair moved though there was no wind.

I slammed the door so hard the frame rattled. My back hit the wall and I slid down to the floor, gasping. Sobs tore out of me before I could stop them. Ugly, choking sounds I hadn’t allowed myself in months.

Why? I kept thinking. Why are you blaming me?

Morning gray came slowly. The fire had extinguished itself sometime during the night. I need to go to the mainland. Without power my nights will worsen. I just know it. I got dressed and gathered up my wallet. As I walked to the door I saw my old book on my desk. It was open to the acknowledgments. For my dear wife Hailey. I pushed the door open, grabbed my jerrycan and made my way to the boat.

I began my journey to the mainland, pushing off the memories of Hailey. I wasn’t ready for that. How did my book open there anyway? The thought sent a pang of sorrow through my chest. Just get the supplies. I’ll deal with this later. The mainland was closing in.

I docked and walked my way up to Elliot’s shop. I did my best to appear normal and said, “Hello Elliot,” my voice cracking a little as I did. Elliot met my eye and I could instantly see concern. “Miles. You’re early. What happened?” “I ran out of gas. I’ve had to use the generator a lot more lately. Has the new one arrived yet?” “Just arrived yesterday. I’ll have James load it up along with an extra can of fuel.” “Thank you Elliot,” I said. “Take care of yourself Miles.”

I walked slowly to Clara’s. Partially in thought, partially to stall. Lisa came into view. She waved and smiled like an idiot. She ran up to me smiling and said, “Miles. I know you said you don’t sign your work but I would really, really appreciate your autograph.” “Sure why not,” I said mostly to appease her and avoid any more conversation. She opened the book to the acknowledgments and held out a pen for me. I stood there paralyzed. The acknowledgments read. For my dear husband Miles. It’s your fault. I dropped the book and ran. Ran as fast as I could to Clara’s. Get my supplies and leave.

Clara’s shop door was propped open and I burst in, tripping and falling to the floor. Clara jumped at the sight of me. She came over to me and put her hand on my shoulder. It was so caring and sweet. So Clara. “Miles, Oh my God are you alright? You look terrible. Are you hurt?” I stood, feeling slightly embarrassed, and lied, “Yeah, I am alright.” “Are you sure Miles, you really don’t look well.” “I’ll be fine Clara. Just not sleeping very well.” Clara returned to the register and I started to wander the store. “I told you living on the island alone wasn’t good for you Miles. I knew it.” I didn’t respond. I didn’t even know what to say.

“It’s your fault Miles,” Clara said colder than she had ever spoke to me before. My stomach dropped. “What did you say?” I looked at Clara. She was standing unnaturally still. Like stuck between two panes of glass. Her skin was white as a ghost and her eyes were fogged over like a blind woman. “IT’S YOUR FAULT, IT’S YOUR FAULT, IT’S YOUR FAULT, IT’S YOUR FAULT…” The accusing attacks streamed at me like knives being thrust at me. I threw myself out of the shop.

I hurried back towards the docks, heart still hammering in my chest. Calder saw me and stopped me with a concerned, “Whoa there Mr. Walker. Ye look as though ye seen the devil himself. ‘R ya alright?” The words came out before I could think to keep them to myself. “Calder. You say there are things in the ocean. Mermaids, sea creatures stuff like that right?” “Aye son Why?” “What about spirits? Like ghosts or whatever?” Calder’s weathered face tightened. “Lad. Ya don’ want ta be messin’ round with no ghosts. The sea is full a vengeful spirits and sailors stuck “tween worlds. Be careful, or you’ll be joinin’ em.” I left him there and made my way to the boat to depart back to the island.

The ride back gave me too much time to think about what Calder had said. The choppy waters jostled me around like a bobble head. The sky was a dark coating of thunderheads. It was going to be a rough night.

I docked and tied down the boat. I looked down and the generator. It was quite a lot bigger then my last one. I grabbed the bottom and heaved it up. It settled with a creak on the dock. I got the generator in place and attached the connections. Grabbed the fuel and filled it up. It started with a satisfying rumble and the cottage lights kicked on as the night was beginning to envelope the island.

I started another fire and mindlessly ate a simple meal. I sat at the desk to do some work. The book was still open to her name. I closed it and went back to writing. The night was loud with wind and thunder cracks. Lightning flashes briefly lighting my room. I awoke at my desk to a wet squelching sound coming from outside the cottage. I grabbed a flashlight to see what I was dealing with now. I looked around and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary until I looked at the generator.

Every crack in the generator was seeping with the oily, rippling water. The smell of gas saturated the dirt around him was strong. I looked at the battery as well. It sparked and smoked as it dripped the same water. I looked around for anything, a person, any explanation at all. I found only the wind and the thunder. I was alone and my only light would be my fire.

Another gray morning, wind still whipping about. My laptop battery was at fifty percent. It would be dead soon if I kept working so I shut it down. I grabbed the book and opened to Hailey’s name. The pained reminder was my only company and I sat there for hours not knowing how to feel. I went to bed early. I’d have no choice but to go back to the mainland tomorrow. I am running out of options.

“Miles.” That same chilling, haunted voice. I didn’t jump this time. I felt...relief? Sadness and relief. I walked to the front door and gently opened it. The island was gone again. Hailey’s visage standing on the water beckoning towards me. She disappeared. There were two people now. Hailey and me. We were walking together arm in arm. Happy. Another figure appeared. He grabbed at Hailey’s purse. I stepped in between them and the figure stabbed my visage in the side. Hailey’s ghostly figure screamed. The other shadow stabbed at her, puncturing her chest and hands as she tried to defend herself. I couldn’t move. My breath caught in my chest. Red and blue lights appeared and a hospital. A nurse whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

The figures faded and Hailey’s visage returned. “Miles. It’s your fault.” I found my words. “It was all my fault. I should have protected you. I should have done more.” “Come to me Miles.” The visage’s arms were outstretched and inviting. I stepped into the inky, rippling water. It was slippery and freezing. I reached the visage and felt her warmth. Felt her presence. Finally felt peace. A peace I have been searching for. We stood for a long time in each others arms as we had in a life long past. “Are you ready?” she said. We walked through the water arm in arm away from the cottage. The ankle deep water dropped and we sank. Water surrounding us in a freezing, final embrace.

Calder drove up to the island dock. Miles’ boat was still tied up. He walked up the grounds to the cottage. The front door was wide open and the interior was a sodden disaster. There was no sign of Miles to be found. Calder found a message written next to the acknowledgments. It read. To my dear wife Hailey. I’m home.