The Barn

So the past couple weeks have been strange. That is probably an understatement. After all the fun of last week, I have been fighting through a cold given to me by the child who is being poked and prodded on a regular basis. A cold, you say, that doesn’t sound so bad. Except that it has been so bad that most of the time I can barely think straight.

Fighting through cold medicine and a general need to sleep has been an ugly moment of my life the past few days. And through it all I ended up missing the deadline for the Indies Unlimited flash fiction challenge. This also means that I haven’t yet been able to get the piece for that written.

What I can see happening right now is, as I finish up compiling all the work for the flash fiction anthology for this year I will have at least three new pieces in the anthology that can not be found anywhere else. Think of it as bonus incentive to pick it up when it is available.

And of course we then wonder if there is a quick beats story for the week still. Never fear, I have something quick and strange to keep us occupied.

The Barn

“I don’t know how well it’s going to work now,” she said. “It was years ago that he put it into storage.” Julliette tucked a few strands of grey hair behind her ear. No one came by to ask about Roger’s work anymore. He had passed away a few years ago, cancer.

The Barn

flickr creative commons via Kool Cats Photography

She carried on pretty well. The house was more than enough for her to deal with. She didn’t bother with his workspace. Roger closed it up when they first learned about his sickness. He was gone before they could do anymore with it and she had no desire to sell it, easier to let it rot. She wouldn’t have to think about it, wouldn’t have to miss him.

“Where did you say you were from?” she asked, this was the third time. They made her nervous. They were quiet and didn’t answer any of her questions.

“Wait with me miss,” the tall one told her, the more personal of the two. She couldn’t tell much about either of them. Their dark glasses hid their eyes and most of their facial expressions were flat.

The other one went into the barn, lost to the darkness. After a brief pause she heard a click and a fwomp noise, like the sound of an air compressor kicking on.

The tall one spoke into a small device in his hand. “We have contact,” he said. “We need a containment unit within 5.” She couldn’t hear any the other half of the conversation. His radio had gone to static.

A screech from inside the barn broke through the still morning air. The tall man stepped in front of Julliette with a toy pop gun in his hand. “What’s going on?” she asked. She stood on tip toes to see over his shoulder. When that didn’t work she tried to look around his side.

Blinding blue and red light flashed inside the barn. Even when Roger was alive she had never seen anything like this. The skin on her arms puckered with goose flesh.

The short man stepped out of the barn. She made a mental note, it wasn’t that he stepped outside. He seemed to float out. His body hung wrong, like a puppet whose strings weren’t tight. “Do not disturb,” the voice came from the short man. His mouth moved mechanically, it wasn’t a natural movement. It was then that she saw the long pole attached to the base of his neck. “Leave here now.” Again his lips moved and again they weren’t his words.

The Tall man spoke into the device again. “Evac, two to pick up.” He turned to Julliette, “Run!”


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