The breeze felt cool and carried with it wisps of what seemed like heavenly music. Every now and then between the salty sprays of air the sound of an angel’s voice drifted by. Ariel had always dreamed of having a hammock by the sea. To be able to walk, well that was beyond a dream. Now that she had both, she only wanted to lie still while nature soothed all of her senses. Hoping upon hope the voice would get closer. Drifting off to sleep the voice began to sing closer, louder and even more beautiful if one could imagine that. While Ariel dreams her visions of magic, let me tell you about the mystery of this tiny town. So tiny in fact, to this day I don’t think it is on the map.

Spring during the recession had much of the country in a fret. Not so here, these inhabitants boasted affluence untouched by any economy issues. Sunny days and the earth bursting with new life, not much was left to desire here; except, perhaps for the people on the outside looking in. Across the street a tiny girl peered longingly at the stone colonial. It was unusual to find stone architecture on the coast but this majestic house had somehow found its way here and to this wide-eyed child, it was a princess’s palace.

She longed to play with the little girl who lived there, how lucky she was. Curley red hair and beautiful clothes and oh the dolls! Molly (she knew her name was Molly because now and again her mom would call out to her) would push her perfectly British dolly pram down the narrow road that divided the ocean from the estate. Suddenly Molly glanced in her direction, darting behind the rock she hoped she’d not been spotted. Holding her breath she waited ever-so-quietly. Feeling certain she would be discovered she ducked into the water and swam silently away, but that was a very long time ago.

Tonight, a cool September eve, the harvest moon cast an indigo glow over Surrey Lane. Lampposts glowed warmly along the street looking like something only a storybook could rival.  The little seaside town of Abernath was especially quiet off-season. A little known gem, even the height of summer brought few tourists. Its residents, affluent and private led sequestered lives; what was about to unfold would cast quite unwelcome publicity on their world.

None of the residents were even aware the old stone home was vacant. The window treatments had been left untouched and other than the absence of a little girl playing or a car occasionally going to and from, nothing appeared unusual. It made sense it would go unnoticed. When a caravan of police-escorted limos broke the darkness of night, residents were startled. Cars lined up in front of 28 Surrey and emptied their occupants who slowly made their way to the heavy oak door and disappeared inside. Passing hours revealed nothing more and finally the curious neighbors went to sleep for the night. By morning all cars were gone and things appeared just as they had just 24 hours ago.

 October winds had blown leaves to the ground and the sun was setting on Halloween day. Among the handful of trick and treaters traditionally welcomed on this tiny island was Molly Brownson, the little red-haired girl living in none other than what had become Abernath’s mysterious stone home. As people expected, Molly was not among the ghosts and goblins who visited that night.

Quiet deliveries came and went from Molly’s home yet no sign of the family who had lived there for the past 7 years. What had become of the Brownson family? Who was the home’s new occupant? No one seemed to know.