The Keeper of the Veil

My grandmother, Aunty Lani, used to say that the veil between worlds is thin in Hawaii, especially at places where the old ones walked. I never thought much of it until I moved to the mainland and found myself choking on the stale air of disbelief. But even here, in my small apartment in Orlando, I can still feel the pull of the islands, a distant heartbeat that grew louder when I booked my first flight home in seven years.

The day after I landed, I drove my rental car through the winding road to the Pali Lookout. The wind was a living thing that day, whipping my hair and pressing against my body like it was trying to tell me something. I stood at the overlook, gazing at the sharp cliffs and the deep green of the valley below. The tour guide’s voice echoed from a nearby speaker, recounting a battle in 1795 where warriors were driven off the cliffs. But my grandmother had told me a different story, one about a menehune woman who cursed the mountains after her lover was killed, promising that anyone who climbed to the highest peak on the second night of the new moon would hear her wails and never return.

I didn’t believe her then. But as I stood there, a chill ran down my spine, and I had a sudden, irrational urge to hike to the summit. I pushed it away, but the thought lingered, making my skin crawl. That night, back at my aunt’s house in Kailua, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching me from the shadows of the plumeria trees. I heard a high-pitched keening, like a woman weeping, but when I stepped outside, there was nothing there. My aunt, seeing my pale face, said, ‘It is the wind, child. It plays tricks.’ But she wouldn’t meet my eyes.

The next day, I visited the Byodo-In Temple, hoping to find some peace. The large bronze bell, the koi pond, the black swans gliding in the water—it should have been calming. But as I walked past the reflecting pond, I caught my reflection and saw something behind me: a woman in a long white dress, her face obscured by a veil of mist. I spun around, but no one was there. The temple keeper, an old Japanese man with kind eyes, approached me, speaking in a hushed tone. He said, ‘You have the sight, don’t you? I see it in you. Be careful at the temple tonight. There is a ceremony for the dead.’ I thanked him, but I didn’t intend to stay.

On my last night, I drove to a remote beach on the North Shore, away from the lights and the tourists. I had always loved the isolation there, the black sand that crunched underfoot. As the sun set, I watched the waves crash, and I felt a presence beside me. I turned and saw the same woman from the temple, her face still veiled, her hand reaching out as if to touch my cheek. I stumbled backward, my heart pounding. ‘Who are you?’ I managed to whisper. She tilted her head, and I heard a voice in my mind, ancient and slow: ‘You are a descendant of the one who betrayed me.’ My blood ran cold. My grandmother had never mentioned any betrayal.

Terrified, I fled to my car, but the engine wouldn’t start. The ocean, once soothing, now roared with malice. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the woman standing behind the car, her veil lifting slightly, revealing a smile that was too wide, too sharp. The keening sound grew louder, and I could feel my head throbbing. I closed my eyes and prayed to my ancestors for protection. When I opened them, she was gone, and the car started with a sputter. I drove home on roads that seemed to twist and turn in impossible ways, the GPS losing signal, my headlights illuminating only a few feet ahead.

I made it back to my aunt’s house just before dawn. Through my window, I saw a shadow against the moon, shaped like a woman, and I realized she wasn’t a ghost of the past; she was a guardian, a keeper of the veil, and she had chosen me. I had thought I was visiting home, but I was actually answering a call. The mainland may deny the supernatural, but the islands know. And now, I know too. When I returned to Florida, I didn’t tell anyone about my trip. I couldn’t. But sometimes, when the wind howls outside my apartment, I hear her keening, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I have to go back, to face the veil, and to take up my role as the next keeper.