The Islander: Model Home

The Islander was the name given to the Model Home that came out of the ground years ago. When the house began to rise above the sandy soil, the foundation was mostly firm, but the land upon which the house was standing was a building site that will forever harbor secrets and superstition.

During the seasons when the shadows are short and the sun is relentlessly searching for every shadow, The Islander: Model Home is dormant. However, after the shadows began to lengthen with the eve of October, The Islander: Model Home will awaken with a timeless tradition.

In the beginning, the largest of the Ten Thousand Islands was Collier City. Before the Colliers, it was Isla de San Marcos, and before that era, the island, which is now modern Marco, was a land with Native American inhabitants dating back to the time of ancient Egypt.

During the days of Collier City, when the very first automobiles began to traverse the island upon the sandy paths between the mangroves, the palmetto, and the Spanish pines, the engines of the rattletrap machines would always fail over the plot of land where The Islander: Model Home would finally stand.

During the massive construction when the developers were changing the shape of a mangrove archipelago and reclaiming the land like never before, the engines of the heavy equipment would also fail, or break, or just stop for no apparent reason, but always near or above the one particular parcel where the sandy soil was mostly firm.

After the infrastructure of the island was complete and the swarm of human effort vanished to another development, the crew of the company who remained behind had a name for the property where machines would not work and the electricity would always flicker. The land upon which The Islander house would eventually stand became “The Model Home,” but only to those who were wary, and not blind to an undeniable pattern.

Well after most of the model houses were basking under the marketing strategies of exotic monikers and vacation memories of surf, sand, and palm trees, The Model Home with The Islander signature finally rose out of the ground, but not before three different building crews quit work and took flight.

The Islander: Model Home was finally finished before the big blow of a September hurricane, but not before accidents, equipment failures, and mishaps on the building site became commonplace gossip among construction crews. Any carpenter, welder, or heavy equipment operator who was working near The Model Home was well aware of the spooky stories and gooseflesh superstition.

During the first year when The Islander: Model Home was complete, a realtor came with prospective buyers who were searching for the perfect snowbird retreat, but after entering the classic Polynesian vestibule, a vile stench erupted and everyone fled back into the sunshine.

Outside, the sprinkler system suddenly erupted and the same stench came out of the ground. After the realtor and the disgusted customers drove away, The Islander: Model Home became the subject of a thorough inspection.

When a jobsite supervisor came with a team to inspect The Model Home, he suddenly fell ill and collapsed. Before the ambulance came to take the team leader away, another member of the inspectors was also suddenly in need of medical care.

Near the sandy patch of soil where the grass would not grow, a young man stumbled into what the other inspectors were calling a sinkhole. Although the young man only had a severe sprain, he later developed headaches and then nightmares before he resigned and moved back to the Midwest.

The Islander: Model Home after the failed inspection became an unspeakable eyesore of overgrown landscaping and faded and peeling paint. Cracks in the façade were visible from the street and as any realtor knew, curb appeal for The Islander: Model Home was far from appealing. Eventually the spooky house became the subject of jokes, regret, and even Halloween stories.

When Airbnb became the latest trend for vacations and demand for holiday rental properties exploded, The Islander: Model Home became the purchase of a small conglomerate, which bought the property sight unseen. After the purchase, a painting and cleaning crew overran the place, and despite several mishaps, the old Islander was soon ready for business.

The first vacation rental lasted only a few minutes. Before an hour was up, a young couple called for an Uber and told the driver the house was haunted. They also related that malevolent vibrations, a sudden terrible stench, and a terrible dread of the house came seemingly from underground.

The second rental also lasted less than an hour when another couple told their Uber driver that a sudden bolt of electricity shot out of an electrical receptacle.

After every new arrival, every guest on a tropical island vacation ended with a refund and terrible reviews about a haunted house, the rental property managers decided to take action and send a professional investigator.

The investigator was a veteran with Special Forces military training. He was also a former detective with New York state police and an insurance fraud specialist for multiple organizations.

When the older veteran arrived and began to approach The Islander: Model Home, a late September thunderstorm was raging. The wind was howling, the lightning was severe, and the driving rain prompted the older man to rush for the unlocked door of the “haunted house.”

After two weeks, the investigator was still missing; The Islander: Model Home was no longer on the listings for a short-term rental. When October began pulling out the evening shadows of autumn, the ghostly figure of a soldier or sometimes a police officer was an apparition often seen at the entrance of The Islander: Model Home.