FOREWORD TO LOCKED DOORS


This book was born over Thanksgiving in 2002. Instead of going home to spend the holiday with our families, my wife and I decided to do Thanksgiving just the two of us in the North Carolina Outer Banks. I'd heard they were haunting and beautiful, and on some subconscious level, I'm sure I was hoping the setting would inspire me for the Desert Places sequel, which I was struggling to conceptualize.

We decided to stay in a B&B on the remote island of Ocracoke, so the day before Thanksgiving, we left our apartment in Chapel Hill and headed east.

It was during the ferry ride over to Ocracoke when I started to get excited.

These barrier islands felt like they existed at the edge of the world—narrow spits of land with the Pamlico Sound on one side, the Atlantic on the other, and a slate-gray November sky hanging over it all.

The island itself was even better.

Small. Quaint. Quiet. Completely off the beaten path.

The beaches were practically empty.

The lighthouse was spooky.

The live oaks with their Spanish moss draping from the branches looked like a southern gothic nightmare.

But what really blew my hair back was the island just across the inlet to the south of Ocracoke.

Portsmouth.

It had an abandoned village on the north side, and it was during my tour of that ghost town by the sea, that the story of what would become Locked Doors finally hit home. I knew I had to set the Desert Places sequel there. Suddenly, I saw it all so clearly, and it was the exquisite scenery of the Outer Banks that made that happen.

So I hope you enjoy the book, and if you ever have the opportunity to visit the North Carolina Outer Banks, in particular Ocracoke Island, don't hesitate.

I haven't begun to do them justice.


Blake Crouch



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