The Old Barn

Here's my first attempt at a ghost story. Let me know if I should keep writing this stuff or just give up now 'cause it's not scary at all.

I was eight years old when I sneaked into that barn.  It was off limits.  Hadn’t been touched in 50 years. I was too young to understand.  At least, that’s what I’d been told. In an effort to be honest, Nana said it was just dangerous because it had been left for so long.  But I was a precocious child.  

“Why don’t anyone fix it up?”

“Doesn’t.” Mama corrected me irritably. “Stay away from that barn Adelaide.”

When she called me Adelaide I knew to stop asking questions. Everyone called me Addie unless I was in trouble.  

See, we lived in eastern Georgia.  Too far to be able to walk to the beach, but too close to it to say we lived in the middle.  Papa’s family had owned that farm for generations.  The only person I could get a semblance of a story out of was Papa.  His blue eyes would twinkle and he’d say, “This farm was our pride and joy.  All the way back to afore the civil war.”

“What about the barn, Papa?”

Then his eyes would darken.  “You stay away from that place. If it wasn’t the first building ever put up on this land I’d have it knocked down.”

But something told me even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t knock it down.  

As I grew up, the barn became my obsession.  I’d walk up to the fence around it and stare at it until Mama or Nana would yell at me to get away from it.  Daddy tried to get me busy in the new barn, helping with the new cow or pigs or herding the sheep with Buster the Border Collie atop my favorite horse, Miss Belle.  Buster and Belle were the only two I could talk to about the barn.  Even Mitchell, the boy my age who worked on the farm, trusted the adults about the barn.

“Addie.  Leave it alone.  Stay away from it.  Your folks know more’n you do.”

And so the years passed.  The day after I turned 8, I decided that I was going in that barn and I was going to find out what was so bad about it.  I waited until Daddy was in the new barn, Papa and Nana and Mama had gone to town for the Farmer’s Market with a truck load of fruits and veggies, and Mitchell had gone to the family garden to help his mama weed. Then I went to my favorite spot on the fence, got up my courage, and hopped over.  

I knew right where to go in. The barn had two floors.  The bottom floor had one door that was locked tight.  There was a ramp up to the big doors, but I wasn’t about to go in that way.  No, there was another door on the back.  I walked up those rickety wooden stairs with my heart in my throat.  The door was rusted shut, but with a few hard shoves it opened just enough for me to slip through.  

It was an ordinary barn.

Well, not really.  It looked like it had been lived in a long time ago.  And for being abandoned for 50 years it was in pretty good shape on the inside.  There was a wall down the middle of it.  On my side there was what looked like bunk beds.  And there was another rickety stair up to the top bed.  Me being the curious child I was, climbed up the stairs--very carefully of course--and looked over the bed.  

It was at that moment that I determined to find out why this old, innocent, abandoned barn was so hated.  As I looked around, it was like the walls were happy to see me.  They’d been lonely all those years.  Sometime in the past a kid like me had slept in the bed I was looking at.  There were ancient wooden toys spilling out from a half open closet.  

“Don’t worry old barn.” I whispered reverently.  “I love you.”

And that ended my expedition for the day.  

“How was your day Addie?” Mama asked at supper that night.  

“Fine.” I answered passively.  

“What did you do while we were all gone?” Nana asked.  

I felt like they knew and they were waiting for me to be out with it before I got in trouble.  

“Played outside with Buster.” That was true.  He’d found a perfect throwing stick and we’d played with it for an hour or so.  

“That would explain the scratch on your face.” Daddy said.  

That would also explain why he’d been staring intently at me the whole time we’d been eating.  Buster often forgot he was a big dog now, and he still jumped up on little me and scratched me with his claws.  I was short for an 8 year old, and most people would have guessed I was about 6.  Maybe 7.  I hated that.  

“Did you and Miss Belle get the sheep?”

“Yes.”

Looking back, it was mostly Buster and Miss Belle who brought in the sheep.  They just put me on the horse so I felt like I was doing something helpful.  That’s what I liked about my family.  They always made everyone feel important on the farm.  That’s why Mitchell was there working alongside his mama.  

“How was the farmer’s market, Daddy?” my dad asked Papa.  

“Right fine.  We sold most the produce.  How’s the corn lookin’?”

And they turned the conversation from me to the projected outcome of the crops.  Daddy and Papa always had a plan just in case the crops failed.  I always tuned them out.  I was only 8.  What did I care about money?  My thoughts were what I’d seen in the barn.  In my child’s mind, there was nothing to be scared of.  It was just a lonely old barn.  

The next day was Sunday.  Everyone who lived on the farm went to church.  Mama dressed me up nice in my red checked dress, and she braided my long, straight hair in two pigtails.  I rode in the truck with Nana and Papa, and Mama and Daddy took the little car.  Church was long and boring for me.  I didn’t understand what the preacher was talking about, and I wanted to get home so everyone would take their Sunday nap and I could go visit the barn again.  

Finally they sang the closing song and we walked out into the Georgia heat.  

“I hear there’s storms comin’.” One old farmer said to Papa.  “The rheumatism’s flarin’ up.”

I didn’t know what rheumatism was.  But I knew what a storm was.  And I was scared.  Scared that the old barn wouldn’t make it through a big, bad storm.  Scared I wouldn’t be able to visit it and it would be lonely and sad.  

“This heat would tell me that without your joint pain.” Papa laughed.  “There’s sure to be a heck of a storm come tomorrow.”

We drove home.  I listened to Nana and Papa talk about readying the farm for the worst.  I ignored them, as usual.  

I was stealthy again sneaking out to the barn.  My dress was exchanged for a t-shirt and overalls.  My little black converse sneakers made no sound as I shoved my way into the barn again.  

“I’m back.” I said in a low voice. “Did you miss me?”

“What are you doing here?” a child’s voice said.  

My confidence disappeared. “Mitch?”

“No. My name’s Joseph.  Can’t you see me?”

“I’m scared. I don’t know anyone named…” I felt someone touch me.  I choked down a scream.  

“Don’t be scared.” Joseph said. “I’m not going to hurt you.  I’m so glad you came to see me.”

“But I can’t see you.” I whimpered, moving toward the door.

“Please don’t go.” the voice sounded like it was going to cry. “I do get so lonely.  Stay and play with me?”

That was the last straw.  The minute an old rubber ball floated through the air I was done.  I ran out that door and I didn’t go near the old barn for a week.  My family must have wondered why I stopped asking questions.  They also must have wondered why I wanted to go talk to Miss Smith in town.  I usually hated the old woman.  

“I’m a big girl now.” I said with 8 year old defiance. “I need to like all people like Nana does.”

I know I made Nana smile when I said I wanted to be like her. And she let me go with her to town.  “Don’t tire her, child.” she said when she dropped me off.  

“I won’t Nana.” and I walked up to the door and knocked.

“Well, well, look who it is.” the old lady said cheerily when she opened the door. “You’re just in time.  I’ve made snickerdoodles.”

“Miss Smith?” I said, once I was settled on a stool in her kitchen munching on cookies.

“Yes Addie?”

“I need to know something.  And I am old enough to know it.”

“What is it child?”

“Is there such a thing as...ghosts?” I whispered the last word, as though I was afraid Joseph would pop out of nowhere.  

“Why are you asking me this?” the old woman was suddenly serious.  

“Well…” I kicked the leg of my stool thoughtfully.  “I did something bad.  And I need help.  And Nana and Mama won’t understand.”

“You visited the barn didn’t you.”

“How did you know?”

“The rumor is that the barn is haunted.  Why else would you ask about ghosts?”

I bit my lip and waited for her to scold me.  She didn’t.  

“Children are naturally curious.” she said.  “I was curious about the Springsteen barn when I was a child.”

“You were a child?”

Miss Smith laughed.  I realized I’d always liked her laugh.  “Yes, dear.  I was.  And I was best friends with your grandma’s older sister.  We spent a lot of time on that farm, Betty and I. We used to scheme about going in there and finding out what the adults wouldn’t tell us.  But Betty was a good child.  She didn’t want to break the rules.  So we never went in.  Then once we were older we were told it was haunted.  

“But aren’t ghosts old and scary?” I asked.

“No child.  They’re not.  In fact, ghosts stay the same age they were when they died.” Miss Smith suddenly had a realization.  “You’ve seen the ghost?”

“It talked to me.  It touched me.”

The old woman grabbed my hand and led me to the living room and we sat down.  “Tell me what you saw in that barn.”

So I told her.  Every last detail.  Even about the floating rubber ball.  

“So it’s the child then.”

“What?”

“The rumors were true.”

“What rumors?  You’re scaring me.”

“Oh Addie.  Terrible things happened in that barn.  Terrible things that you won’t be ready to hear for many, many years.  And even when you’re old enough to understand, you’ll wish you’d never heard them.”

“But I want to know now!”  

“Wait ten years at the very least, Addie.  If I am still alive, I’ll tell you then.  I promise you.  But I can also promise you that Joseph will not hurt you as long as you are a child.  But if you muster the courage to go and see him again, do not ask him what happened to him.  Addie, I know you’re curious, but if you would trust an adult once in your life, I beg you to trust me now.  Do not try to find out what happened to poor Joseph.”  

“How did you know his name?”

“Everyone knows his name, Addie.  You’re named after his mother, poor soul.  All you need to know about Joseph is this: his spirit is trapped inside that barn.  And underneath his innocent childishness, he is bitter and full of rage.  That is all I can tell you.  But you are safe to visit him until you grow up.”

“Does he want a friend?”

“I’m sure he does.”

“I guess I could be his friend.”

“That’s very sweet of you.”

“Would he like Mitch?”

“I’m sure he would.”

“Mitch wouldn’t like him though, so I s’pose I’ll have to go alone.”

“Whatever you decide, Addie, remember what I told you.”

“Thanks, Miss Smith.”

It took another week before I got up the courage to open that barn door again.  And when I did, Joseph wasn’t waiting for me.  

“Hello?  Joseph?  I’m sorry I ran away.  I’ve come back to be your friend.”

And suddenly I saw him.  My eyes got as wide as saucers.  

“You can see me now?” he asked.

I nodded, unable to speak.  A grin spread across his face.  

“How old are you?” he asked me.

“I’m 8.”

“Really?  Me too!”

“I’m sorry I ran away last time.”

He shrugged. “It’s alright. You came back.”

I shut the door so Daddy wouldn’t notice it.  

“So how long have you lived here?” I asked.

“Oh I don’t know.  Feels like ages since I’m all alone.  I waved at you you know, when you were outside with your friend.”

“Mitch?”

“No.  It was a girl.”

“I don’t…”

“What?”

“I don’t have any girl friends that come over and play.  I always go to their house in town.  Maybe you’re thinking of my mom when she was little.”

“Maybe.” he shrugged. “Faces change a lot. Except mine.”

“You’re a nice boy.” I said.  

“Thank you.” he smiled again.  “Say, why do you wear boy’s clothes all the time?”

“What do you mean? These are girl’s clothes.”

“No.  Girls wear dresses.”

“Not anymore.”

“Girls are weird.”

“Boys are weird.”

“Who’s Mitch?”

“My friend.”

“Why doesn’t he visit?”

“The grown ups don’t want us to come in here.”

“Why not?”

Something told me that I should give him Nana’s answer.  “Cause it isn’t safe in here.  They think it’ll fall down any day now and they don’t want us to get hurt.”

Joseph chuckled. “It won’t fall down.  I take good care of it.”

“Yeah well they don’t know that.”

“Maybe you should tell them.”

“Papa wants to knock it down.”

“He can’t.”

“Why?”

“Cause I live here.”

“Well there’s a big storm comin’.”

“I’ll keep it standing.”

“Addie! Supper!”

“I have to go now.  But I’ll come back.”

“Promise?”

“Addie!”

“Sure.”

Buster growled when I petted him.  Miss Belle was grumpy and tried to bite me when I went to pet her.  The cats hissed at me when I picked them up.  All the animals suddenly started to hate me after I talked to Joseph in the barn.  

“What’s wrong with you!?” I yelled at Buster in frustration.  

The dog only barked at me and loped off in search of someone else.

I banged into the barn and flopped onto the steps up to the bed.

“Is something wrong?” Joseph materialized in front of me.

“Buster doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Who’s Buster?” Joseph asked.

“My dog.”

“He doesn’t like me.”

“What?”

“Buster doesn’t like me.  I tried to pet him once.”

“Why doesn’t he like me though?”

Joseph shuffled his feet. “Well, I was following you around.”

“You can’t do that!” I scolded him. “Someone might see you.”

“I know, but I was lonely.”

“Don’t follow me OK?”

“Alright.”

“Promise?”

“Sure.”

After that, Buster loved me once again and Miss Belle nuzzled my face when I stroked her.  

Years passed.  Soon I was 13.  I had never told a soul about my ghostly friend in the old barn that refused to fall down.  It was the morning of my thirteenth birthday when I slipped into the barn and called for Joseph.  

“Guess what! It’s my birthday!” I said when he appeared, still and 8 year old boy.  

“I know.” he wouldn’t look at me.

“I’m 13 now.” I had forgotten what Miss Smith had said 5 years ago.  

“I know.  You’re grown up.”

“Not really. I mean I’m still a kid.”

“No you’re not Adelaide.”

“Why’d you call me that?”

“My Papa said that women were called by their full name.” his voice got more and more angry.  Then he looked at me.  His once blue-ish eyes were now hollow sockets filled with flames.  

“Get out of my house.” he shouted.

“Joseph?”

“Go!”

I didn’t argue with the fiery-eyed boy.  I ran.  And I never went back.

I’m 79 years old now.  I married Mitch when I was 21.  And we live on the farm.  We have three children who are all grandparents.  My oldest son, Joseph, manages the farm, and his granddaughter Adelaide, is 8 years old. She has started asking questions about the old barn.  I tell her the same thing my Nana told me.  

I did find out what happened to Joseph--what killed him.  Miss Smith was right. I didn’t want to know, but I do now.  And trust me, you don’t want to know either.  I did tell Mitch about my adventures in the barn, and he said he knew all along.  He’d heard me and Joseph talking a few times.  

We did try to destroy the old barn, but it wouldn’t budge, just as Joseph had said.  So I suppose it is doomed to stand, holding the spirit of an angry 8 year old boy, for however long it will.