It was a dark and stormy night. No, really. The rain fell in punishing waves and the wind whipped the trees like a dungeon master. There were voices, too…shrill, torturous sounds coming from the sea that was thrashing about, just yards from my bedroom window.
My mind was racing. 400 years of history were flashing before me as I lay in my bed on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Wind and weather forged this chain of four islands – spits of land surrounded by sea and constantly shifting sands.




