As Stuart drove through the iron gates Melanie felt a cold chill up her spine again. Stuart glanced over at Melanie and then focused back on the road. Melanie looked at his hands as the sunlight rested on them, they were pale and had clearly been worked hard over the years. Stuart took a left turn down a twisty road, the sun was smothered by dark clouds as they continued onwards.
“These roads are bumpy,” Melanie complained, as Stuart nodded.
“The island needs a lot of care and a lot of work,” he explained, while driving on a dirt road that made its way through some forestation. The rain began to fall as Melanie peered into the forest; the sunlight tried to pierce through the thick clouds without success. Melanie was engrossed in the darkness within the forest. Suddenly the Rolls Royce began to splutter, then it jerked and stalled. Melanie noticed a shadow close to the edge of the forest, but within the blink of an eye it was gone.
“What’s wrong with the car?” Melanie asked with a slight panic in her voice.
“Do you know the legends that come with this island?” Stuart asked Melanie, as he turned the key and started the car.
“I’ve heard a few,” Melanie admitted, not letting on too much.
“People say the island soil is sour.” Stuart continued, “Cursed.”
Stuart drove from the forest towards the village.
Do you believe in curses?” Melanie asked, as she looked at the village.
“We all have a cross to bear,” Stuart sighed. “We all have some form of curse in our lives.”