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the Barn


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Barn
Based on a true story

Waking up His vision is still blurry because he doesn’t have his contacts in, He looks out the window around 2am, the view of the large plain of grass leading to the barn and the side door opening and closing. He looks with a squinted face with his eyebrows raised; a classic tired face from awakening. He puts on his jeans that lay right next to the bed that have been thrown off before he went to sleep. His curiosity births an interest to take his revolver from underneath his pillow, and a stainless steel bowie knife which he strapped to his belt. His stubborn attitude and aggressiveness always gets him into trouble, picking fights. He ties his mud dry light brown boots and sneaks downstairs, he figure why bother waking his dad, just for him to say “It’s probably just nothing”. Dean loves the hunt and he has never hunted in such a dark enclosed place before, he was eager until he slipped out the door walking around that dark field of grass, each step closer made this kid from Kansas realize the actual danger in the situation.
Looking up at the dark starry sky brought relaxation as wind, warm as ice blows through the side of his head and stops at his short gelled spiky hair in front. A small feeling of tranquility and danger; he gets to the barns beaten red chipped door about 10 feet long and high, pulls the gun from the back of his pants beneath his dark faded brown leather jacket. With gun drawn, he starts to open the unlocked door from the left side as it opens to the right. The door squeaks with age as he gently close it, making the least amount of noise as possible He holds the flashlight with his left hand under his right forearm, He looks around the first room, It’s a small room about the size of a living room, but all that can be seen is the junk the family normally keep in here like broken bikes, holiday decorations, and tools. Dean turns off the flashlight and ducks off to the right of the closed door behind from which he came from; where he could be unseen. Beside some tools, a broken down sign, and a box of road flares he sits listening for any moment or noise as he wait for his eyes to completely adjust to the darkness.
There’s only one door that leads to the next room, he looks and sees that it’s also unlocked. “Awesome.” He says with his deep scratchy voice. He knows that they never keep that door unlocked. He’s never been so exited and creped out at the same time in his life. He walks down the wall which the door is on and sneaks through an opening where him and his brother have broken through the wood when they were young to play hide and seek so they could get away easier. He crawls through and almost trips over a boat trailer walking into the room. The room is double storied and is massive with banners all across the top leading to the other side of each plat form. There are stacks of hay and a ladder that leads up to the second level, but he goes down a separate hallway that leads to a door that is jammed from the other side, walking down the hallway there are vines and thorns wrapping out along the broken wall that you can see through to the outside, a rather narrow creepy hallway at night. He jumps up and climb through a hole in the ceiling that leads to the left side platform of the second level surrounded by hay, a couple of scraps and cuts that lay on the inside of the wrist from the climb; remaining unfelt until minutes after. He silently ducks down beside some hay, a sound of a small nail gets kicked and rolled of an edge.
He jumps back up and turns on the flashlight with revolver drawn. He walks across a thin banner that leads to a platform just above the door. Looking down it’s about a 15 foot drop; he had a good balance. He puts one hand on the ledge and drops to the platform as quietly as possible, and walks across piles of broken woods and nails to an opening in the barn wall that allows you to look outside, the spot where he thought he heard the noise come from. Thinking to himself how nice the view was, He heres a noise run across the wall, impossibly fast footsteps that would make anyone jump. Looking back he could see it was a rodent but didn’t fire.
A death silence, but out of the corner of his eye could see a black large figure running right for him. A loud cry echoing throughout the barn comes from this figures face, but it’s not a normal face. Unrecognizable, he dives out to his right and quickly get up and set aim and fire twice in its chest without hesitation. While the figure is slowly walking backwards ducking, Dean takes a crow hop and throws a hard powerful stomp kick. Whatever or whoever this was, was strong. Throwing that kick he could hear the smack of the kick and feel how stiff and weighted the body was, even after being shot. Whatever it was, it was male, although the cry it let out seemed kind of unrealistically high pitched. The figure falls to the stacks of hay, Dean jumps down landing on top of it and grips its shirt with his left; while starting to throw rights into his face and sneaks in an elbow which he could feel the snap of it’s nose., Dean snaps the button of the bowie’s sheath but before he gets a chance to draw it he quickly gets lifted off the ground; thrown up and lands on a small platform about 4 feet down. The figure quickly escapes, breaking through the aged wall of the barn before Dean gets a chance to recover from the fall. He puts a hand on his back and leans to stretch then jumps up the platform to retrieve the revolver which he drop to punch. He leaves the barn quickly to chase after it.
The only thing running through his mind was something he would think his dad would say, “Attack. It’s injured, now Dean, go!” his heart’s racing as he sprints faster across that dark field of grass leading to the woods, this figure was surprisingly already lost unseen into the trees and shadows. Fear now is mixed with determination, knowing that whatever this was, is much more stronger than he was. He hops the fence that ironically reads “No Hunting”. He smirks. Hearing twigs and small broken branches snapping as he runs through the trees. He begins to feel uneasy as if he were being watched, he lost track of who ever or whatever that was. “Come on out you son of a b****!” He cries out with anger.
Cougars and coyotes bark and grown in the distance as he slowly walks back towards the fence. Expecting to have something chasing behind him, he makes a run and nosedives over it, knowing he probably doesn’t have the energy to hop it again. Still curious though; how an injured person would have been able to even get over a thin somewhat barbed fence that tall. In his mind he pictured looking back and seeing some animal chasing after me or something. But just dead silence, as the trees howl in the wind, quietly whistling. He takes a minute to look around and once more, noticing the stars in the sky once again. Standing there trying to think, if what happened, really happened. Whoever that was is strong most likely stood around 6’1 or 6’2, but breaking through that wall surprised even Dean.
The noise of the coyotes get louder and more like growling as a few make an appearance and strut across an opening of the trees with eyes like white marbles and glowing as the moon they howl to. He decided to walk farther away before he ended up seeing that cougar he heard earlier too.
Quietly walking back to the house, sneaking past his parent’s bedroom upstairs and throw off all of the dirty cloths and take an exhale. Creeps into bed but still making sure his revolver was under his pillow is in a position to where he could quickly draw it. The next night; this time barging into the barn just wanting to beat the living hell out of whatever it was hoping it would come back for some reason. Nothing stealthy about it; but he find nothing. “What were you doing outside last night?”
“Walked up Elms street with a waffle bat drew, Fought Freddy Krueger and Edward scissor hands too, came out with a little scratch ooh, looking like a got in a freaking pillow fight.”
“Is that so?” His dad mumbles while chewing on a bagel. “You didn’t happen to see Michael Myers or Jason did you?”
“Had Michael Myers lookin’ like a liar, swiped his powers and replaced his knife with flowers and a stack of fliers.” Dean cleverly replies in a serious angry tone.
“You must think you’re very funny.”
“I think I’m adorable.” Dean replies with a smirk on his face.
“ha, take me with you next time.” His dad says while putting on his coat to go to work.

Dean also loved quoting Muhammad Ali as well as Eminem. He plays a good game; usually cracking jokes even in life or death situations to hide what he really feels.



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