Into the Autumn Night

The moon cast down its soft glow onto the small sleeping village, causing ink-like shadows to form around the corners of buildings and in short alleyways. A gust of wind that held a hint of winter in its breath rustled the last of the autumn leaves that clung desperately to the skeletal branches of trees that lined the cobblestone streets.

In the summer, the fields that lay on the outskirts of the village were filled with the hazy purple stalks of lavender, its relaxing scent floating through windows left cracked in the heat. The buzz of honeybees as they danced from one flower to the next was like watching a delicate ballet of nature. Their soft yellow bodies laden in golden pollen needing to rest on a green leaf before making the long journey back to the hive.

On this night, the fields lay bare of these fragrant shrubs. Patches of tall grass swayed to and froe like the waves of a turbulent sea. Beyond these stood the gray outline of a long-abandoned barn. Its disuse was obvious, the red paint had long ago peeled away, and the window glass lay sparkling near the foundation, replaced with cobwebs and shadows. The large barn door had fallen off its track in some long-ago storm and now hung cockeyed like a crooked tooth in a gaping mouth.

Cast in moonlight near the entrance, a huddled mass under a large green blanket lay shivering against an old horse stall that had collapsed from rot and the passage of time. “Did you leave a note?” a quiet voice asked from beneath the pile. Its sweetness could not be masked by the dinginess of this forgotten place.

“’Course I did.” Came the reply. This voice still young, but deeper and more authoritative. “I didn’t want them to think someone snuck into the house and ub- abduck- ubducked- took us.”

The blanket fell away, and two heads poked out, looking around. The little girl had soft straw-colored curls ringing a rosy cheeked face. The boy had hair the color of copper coins cut military short with a spattering of freckles across his nose. Between them lay a sack made of hemp, filled with all the essentials two runaways would need- a flashlight, a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, two apples and a glass bottle full of milk. Plus, ten dollars and fifty-two cents and a stuffed bear named Robert.

“Jay, I think this was a stupid idea.”

“Marybeth, you’re just saying that now ‘cause you’re scared.”

“Of course I’m scared,” Marybeth said. She wiped the sleeve of her wool jacket across her eyes; tears beginning to make tracks down her face. “Aren’t you?”

Jay glanced nervously around the darkness of the barn and then nodded. “Yes, but not as scared as you are, I guess. Look, we just have to hide out here for the night and then we can start following the train tracks at first light. I bet we’ll meet up with that circus by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

“And then what?” Marybeth asked, wrapping her arms around her waist tightly.

“What do you mean?”

Marybeth sighed in exasperation. “After we meet up with the circus and watch the show, what are we gonna do after that? Join the circus? Head home and get a whippin’ from Pa for running off? Did you think this through all the way?”

A rustling noise deep inside the barn made them both pause. Marybeth swallowed down a scream and put her hand to her chest. She could feel her heart pounding audibly against her rib cage. With fingers that shook more than he would have liked, Jay pulled the flashlight out of the bag and clicked it on, shining it down at the floor between them. The rustling came again, and he swung the light haphazardly into the general direction the sounds were coming from. The floor of the barn was made of dirt, the corners littered with dead leaves and sticks that had blown in over the years. Cobwebs floated wispy and transparent from the rafters up above. He listened for any other sounds besides his own rasping breath and the wind outside, but all was quiet again.

“Probably just a mouse.” Shutting off the light, he placed it back in the bag. “And Pa is not going to give us a whippin’,” he said, going back to their conversation. “That’s reserved for when we get caught in lies, not running away. If they would have just taken us to the circus like we had asked-“

“I know, I know, then we wouldn’t have to be following it to the next town.” Marybeth hugged her knees into her body and yawned.

The wind picked up outside and a moaning sound could be heard as some loose boards on the side of the barn rattled and shook. Marybeth screeched loudly and hid her head under the blanket. Jay dove into the bag and pulled out the flashlight. He switched it on and shined it frantically around, the light bouncing and jigging off the walls and ground. The screeching continued and Jay told Marybeth to be quiet.

“It’s not me!” She cried.

Jay’s body went numb with terror. The sound was like a banshee as it grew louder, filling the barn with its high-pitched wail. Marybeth covered her hands tightly over her ears, praying her eardrums wouldn't burst. Jay shot the beam of light up into the rafters overhead and he got his first glimpse of the barn monster. Its eyes were aglow with a fiery gold in the shockingly white face of a ghost. Jay dropped the flashlight and gripped onto Marybeth’s hand under the blanket pulling her up with him, almost dragging her through the barn door as they made their escape. Their shadows disappeared into the lavender field beyond as they ran like mad back to the safety of the village.

The barn owl ceased its cry and looked down with its beady black eyes at the treasures left by the humans. The pale brown feathers of its body sat in stark contrast to the white heart of its face, and the black talons at the ends of its feathered legs. The bread and apples would bring the mice, and the mice would bring his family food. It was a nice offering and was happily accepted. He stepped back into the darkness of the eaves and waited patiently for the first mouse of the night to show its fuzzy little face.