White Mist

Erica is a girl who lived on Roanoke island-an island that mysteriously disappeared. Here is my version of how 116 people who lived on Roanoke in 1585, disappeared.

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This is how I vanished, 116 people and me. ‘Just gone’ is how some people put it, but I know that it wasn’t that. No one knows the truth of our lives;  my life.  We should be known. ‘Vanished’ is not good enough. For my story and change of life twice, tells it all.

A blue wave ventured onto the sand of the beach. Then, scuttling back it withdrew its arms of water leaving a painting on the sand.  I rubbed my toes into the sand enjoying the feeling. My blue eyes shone with joy and only a little sadness. Memories crowded my mind. The strongest memory was when I left.

It was a Monday afternoon when the news came, some people would travel to the New World and start a colony. My parents wanted me to go. Things would be fine at home and I was to comfort my aunt from her experiences. Finally, I agreed. With tears I left knowing my family would join me later. I would miss them, but I needed to go for my aunt’s sake.

Pushing the memory away, I fell back onto the shore of Roanoke Island, letting the sand stick to my bonnet. This was perfect a moment. No one was ordering me around with the dumb ‘unladylike’ word.  Right now, I was free.

    “Erica!” A voice cut through the air. It was her. The woman who had escorted me to the New Word. The one who watched me like a hawk, correcting me every few seconds. She was the owner of the ‘unladylike’ word. She was my guardian.  I snapped up, brushing the sand off my dress and bonnet. Then, fast walking I slipped on my shoes.

    “Yes?” I answered.

    “Why would you lay on the ground in such an unladylike way?” She demanded. There was that word again ‘unladylike.’ It was the culprit for all the things I had done wrong in the year of 1590.  

    “Answer me, Erica Esperanza Veritine!” Aunt Genevieve, the impatient  woman snapped me back to attention.

    “ I was tired.” I said weakly.

    “ I was tired, Aunt Genevieve.” She corrected.

           “I was tired, Aunt Genevieve.” I said with a hint of mockery.

    “Well come, we must get back. Governor John White has a big announcement to make.”

    “Oh and you want to be there when in your imagination he asks you to marry him?” I tell her meaning to be sassy. She blushed and turned away. This time she didn’t correct me.


 

 



 

 

 

 





 



 

 



 

 









 

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