Curtains Of Ruin

Barns are usually for keeping animals such as horses, cows, pigs, or sheep to be taken care of, to be tended to and to be breeding more youngsters to keep a farmer’s barn going. There even used for storing grain, hay, or straw or for housing livestock, though they can be uninviting if your human or a stranger on the travel (or run) but at least they are used for shelter, dryness and warmth from frustrating and time-consuming weathers such as heavy rain, thunderstorms, or gusty winds.

Though some barns are used for more than to just keep animals, dark secrets can be kept inside for anything to be concealed either hidden in a worthy place that no one would notice or buried deep beneath its foundations under the straw and earth from anything suspicious or disturbing never to be recovered unless so from those who are not exalted from the farmers or their property.

During the days of the Great Depression in the early 1930’s of the United States, on one dull afternoon where a recent Dust Bowl has confided, crumbled and consumed of an abandoned farmer’s land left in ruin and earthing a rusted tractor machinery on a dull, dire and deserted land almost as though left in ashes. Although the barn over a dozen yards away, has survived the dominant devour of the dust yet it seemed haunted and ancient. The barn along with the land was lifeless and seemed to have lost all hope of the world after the Wall Street Crash with the collapse of employments across the country, and the bankruptcy of hard-working farmers losing everything but their farms, only for it to come crashing down in due time.

The barn was painted but rusted to dark crimson as though it has not been cared of in over a decade, the dark hole windows without glass a view of fear to even be tempted to glance and peak inwards, the wood of the barn was virtually unstable and weak to easily knock down either from weather or by powerful force, even the roof partially collapsed for glimpses of the sun to beam through the darkness that lies within and the unstable walls of wood vanquished to see almost through the barn visibly. Indeed, the nature of thorns and twigs surrounded, and coiled barn almost completely round the bottom crawling to the top giving up to it decay of wreckage.

It seemed mysterious and eerie from the outside, inside however was a different story if you even dared to take a risk of a snoop to see anything within walls and doors to pity its ruins or may never leave your head again of sorrow and neglect. Not to mention the rusty water tower and the round partially damaged windmill left relinquished, spurned and forsaken entirely just like the dusted farmlands.

Inside there was practically nothing but dusted, crisped straw practically like a pile of ash, darkness depleted with patches of light roughly brought in by the outside light. The beams of the roofing just about stable but on the verge for collapse of a storm or a typhoon, cobwebs of dust and rocky gates inspired of jitters, much more of the scenery, uncomfortable, fatigued and quite startling.

An armchair corroded and dismantled left in the rough adjoined of the cobwebs and dust, was surrounded by rusted tightened barbed wire in one corner of a sight of a death trap in one corner. In the other corner were some discarded withered clothing of a bucket hat, a cream, stripe squared shirt with leather braces, ripped up jeans and large dark green, ankle kneed boots all left mouldered, smelling, and decomposed. This was all that was left of a lone farmer after losing everything to the Crash and losing the employees of the farm. The farmer seemed male, in his late forty’s, tall yet slim, may have had a broken back and with feet as large as bigfoot.

This farmer was reluctant to leave his land behind, this farmer thought he would survive the Dust Bowl, this farmer along with his farm and where or what happened to his animals was all that he had left, this farmer would never see life again, this farmer rotted and thawed to a skeleton still bearing his ripped ancient clothes, was dead.