That's all it is -- 25 paces, about 75 feet -- along the path from my house to my office. But it's dark and creepy at night, and especially haunting when the moon is "shining like the devil's eye." The path twists and turns, and tree branches loom out of the darkness like gnarled arms of a skinny old woman. Spider webs lace the path and roots reach up to snag my feet.
I'm happy to reach the door, turn the key, and step inside -- only to be met by eerie, silent darkness. Then I remember. Not more than ten feet from the back door lies Euphemia Curtis, dead for more than 100 years. My eyes adjust. I look around and listen, then turn on the lights. I am alone. I settle down to write. Euphemia never bothers me. She is a good neighbor.
You can read our latest newsletter here. It's a history of Ocracoke's historic Howard Street.