Barn Tales

"Alright freshies, find a seat and get comfortable. We're here until the sun comes up." Jonathan loved this tradition ever since he joined the football team as a freshman. He couldn't wait to volunteer to run it in his senior year. "This old barn we gather in has been the site of many unforgettable parties and stories for your brothers on the team. As we sit around this fire pit, each of you will tell a story. They are being recorded, and the team will decide whose is best. The winner will get to sit out of one upcoming challenge of their choice. Choose your stories wisely."

Jonathan made an effort to make eye contact with each fresh face. He loved how he could see the gears turning as his new teammates tried to decide what to say. "Do we have any volunteers?" A hand shot up from the opposite end of the circle. "Alright Donohue, I see you," Jonathan smirked, "start us off." Jonathan pulled a flask from his pocket and took a swig, then tossed it to the kid across the circle.

"You know how people leave milk and cookies for Santa?" Donohue started. "Well, my family leaves a piece of chocolate cake for our poltergeist every halloween." A couple of snorts and snickers passed through the group. "You may laugh, but you don't understand unless you've experienced it." Donohue looked down. "One year, my cousin came over. Our neighborhood was safer than theirs for trick or treating. We warned him. We told him the cake was going to be there, but it wasn't for us."

Donohue's voice started to crack. "About an hour after we got home from getting our candy, we were put to bed. A few hours later, I woke up to a loud crash downstairs. Mikey wasn't in his sleeping bag, so I ran to find him. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, a chair flew out of the living room, almost hitting me. When I turned the corner, the last thing I saw was Mikey being pulled into the chimney with chocolate cake all over his face."

Silence hung over the group. The kid next to Donohue spoke up, "Is he okay?" Donohue shook his head. "We never heard from or saw him again." The kid's eyes went wide. "Just kidding", Donohue smirked and took a drink. "He lives in Cleveland." Donohue tossed the flask to his neighbor. "You asked, you're up, Garcia." Inspecting the flask, Garcia shrugged. "I need a drink after that anyway."

“So, the craziest thing happened my sophomore year of High School.” Garcia started “One day, I got home from school and there was this box on the front porch. Nothing special, just some box a little bigger than a shoebox, wrapped in brown paper. The weird thing was, there was no return address and nothing to tell us who it was for. The paper was just blank.” Garcia paused and looked around the circle. “I brought the package inside and put it on a counter. Figured I’d ask my parents if it was theirs when they got home. Well, come to find out, it wasn’t theirs either, so they told me to open it and see if we could figure out who it was for.”

“Shortly after dinner, I put the package on the kitchen table, took a breath, and pulled the string tied around the box. As if an alarm was triggered, the kitchen door slammed open and this guy yelled at me to stop. ‘Whatever you do, don’t open that paper.’ he said, ‘ If you value your life, step away from that box.’ Without explanation, he just grabbed the box, pointed some electric pen at it, nodded, and said thanks. Next thing I know, he ran out the door again. Still have no idea what it was all about.”

Jonathan tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “Did you just create your own mini Doctor Who plot?” Garcia shrugged. “My little sister just got really into it, so it’s the first thing that came to mind.” Jonathan nodded, “Fair enough. What was in the box?”

“Beats me, probably some alien or extra dimensional portal or some shit.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Jonathan chuckled. “Pass the flask to Mack.”

“Has there been a lot of death in this area?” Mack asked as he caught the flask. “The only reason I ask is because the marigold, like the flower in my hand, and in the surrounding field, is sometimes known as the flower of grief. They usually collect dew overnight, so it looks like they’re crying in the morning as the water drips from the petals. In Mexico, they place these flowers on altars and graves hoping the color and scent will attract the spirit of their ancestors. Others, like the ancient Egyptians, respected them for their healing properties. So… yeah.”

Mack took a drink from the flask. “That was really… educational.” Jonathan noted. “Probably won’t win you the get out of challenge free card, but hey, whatever works.” Mack nodded his head slowly. “Listen, all I’m saying is knowing your flowers can be a lot more useful than the bullshit the others have been giving us.”

“Speaking of bullshit,” the kid next to Jonathan offered, “I’ve got a story for you guys.” Mack threw the flask over the firepit. “Go for it, Henring.”

“So, my High School football team was really into the whole hazing thing.” Henring started. “There was a really crazy farmer who was extremely protective of his cows. Made cow tipping on his farm art and sport. If you weren’t able to get a cow tipped, everything coach told us to do, you had to do double. Really incentivized the newbies.”

“Anyway, this one night, we ran the freshmen over to the field, gave them the rules, and let them loose. We acted as lookouts for the farmer, to make sure nobody got shot.” Henring shifted in his seat. “So the freshmen head into the pasture, and out of the darkness we hear ‘Oh shit, not a cow, not a cow!’ coming from the smallest member. Turns out, he got turned around and ended up in the bull’s paddock.”

“The entire team books it towards the screams. The farmer is sitting on the fence with a bottle in his hand, laughing maniacally. The poor kid is running for his life! So we all jump in and try taking turns distracting the bull. Last thing we need is for someone to die. They’d shut down the program. Next thing we know, one of our senior linemen has the bull by the horns and is wrestling it to the ground. The old farmer saw it and started yelling, but he tried to stand and ended up falling off the fence. The moment the bull hit the ground, we took off. Craziest night of my life. Here’s to more.”

Henring drank from the flask and handed it to his right. “What about you Jenkins?” Jenkins took the flask and flipped it between his hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever really told anyone about the night I saw the green light.” Looking down, Jenkins chuckled. “Looking back, it seems kind of crazy. One night, at scout camp, I woke up to some rustling in the bushes. Couldn’t imagine what possessed me to leave the tent, but when I stepped out, the green glow was just sitting there on the other end of camp.”

“Each step I took, this orb floated away, almost guiding me. I was a kid, so I wasn’t really thinking, but I just kept following. Well, maybe twenty minutes later, I found myself in a clearing. The orb floated to the center of the clearing and dropped into the ground leaving this weird green light. I don’t know, curiosity got the best of me, so I walked over. The closer I got, I started hearing this whispering; it got louder with every step.” Jenkins closed his eyes as he recalled. “Find the weeping gold. Remember the forgotten dream.” Jenkins looked back up. “It’s always been something that stuck with me. I’ve never been able to figure out what that voice really meant. Most people tell me it was just a dream. I still think it’s real.”

“You think weeping gold could mean marigolds?” Mack asked. “The field surrounding this barn is out of place. Shouldn't really exist from the season alone.” The entire group turned to Mack. “What?”, he asked, “Can’t a guy recognize when a plant is growing where it shouldn’t?” Jenkins shrugged, “Maybe one day we can do a little digging. See if there’s anything else that catches our eye.” Mack nodded. “Yo, Erickson, you’re up.” Jenkins called, tossing the flask across the fire.

Catching the flask, Erickson smiled. “Have any of you ever been ice skating on a pond?” The guys all looked around, shaking their heads. “Southerners, you guys never get the good stuff.” Erickson smiled. “Pond ice can be exhilarating. It’s a whole different experience than being on a rink. My family had a pretty deep pond in our yard up in New York. There’s an extra thrill when you aren’t too sure if the ice is thick enough yet. Well, there was one November, my brother and I went over to the pond to get some skating in before Thanksgiving dinner. I went out first to test it. John came out shortly after.”

“I still don’t know if the ice just wasn’t thick enough, or if it was only thick enough for one of us. We’re racing from one end of the pond to another and the next thing I know, I hear what sounds like a whip cracking and see John fall through. My heart just about stopped.” Erickson paused. “Some of you may never experience it, but hypothermia can set in quick if you fall into ice covered water. I didn’t even think, I jumped in, grabbed him, and got us out as fast as I could. My dad said we made it just in time. Really redefined what being thankful meant to me.” Erickson stared at the flask before taking a long drink.

Erickson shook his head when he finished. “Looks like you’re last Calero.”, he said as he handed the flask over. “You’re really gonna try and make me cry then make me go?” Calero asked, wiping his eyes. “Well, then I guess I’ll tell you guys about the one that got away.” Calero drank from the flask. “Sara and I graduated together, but our story started freshman year. My mom brought my sister and I to the local orchard that fall. I’ve never really been a fan of apples, so my mom would let me roam the pear section while my sister grabbed the apples for my mom’s famous apple pie.”

A grin sloped its way across Calero’s face. “When I got there, Sara was climbing one of the trees. When I asked her what she was doing, she said the juiciest fruit grows closer to the sun. So I climbed the tree next to hers. Just as I grabbed the top pear, the branch snapped and I fell. Man, that girl was smooth as a jungle cat climbing back down. Apparently her mom was a nurse, so she checked me over and decided nothing was broken. ‘This one’s for you’, I said, handing her the pear. We were together for all of High School. I was too afraid to follow her to the east coast for college. Man, I miss that girl.”

Erickson got up and handed Jonathan the flask. “Well, you guys have definitely given us plenty to work with. We’ll name our lucky winner next week. For now, sit back and enjoy the fire.” Jonathan walked over and poured the rest of the flask into the fire. “You have given your stories, here’s to the many yet to be told.”