In The Old Barn

Behind our old house lay a big, empty field. At the very end of the field lay a big old barn. It’s painted red, with a big wide wooden door to enter. The only problem was, I’ve never been there. I’ve always been too afraid. We moved in about six months ago, and since making friends with the locals in the area and the neighbours, they all warned us to stay away from it.

“A big, old death-trap.”

“No reason to go in there.”

“Not been used in years.”

They all had their reasons, their excuses. I didn’t believe a single one. I’ll tell you why. I was woken up in the middle of the night by an unearthly screech. Three times I heard it. The first time woke me up. The second had me out of bed and sprinting to the window. The third, well, the third had me gaping like a fool at the old barn across the field. The third screech seemed to come from there. I only know this because there was a dim light inside, which could be seen through the old window at the top of the barn, the one the locals say was never used. I knew what I had to do.

The next day, after a lot of tossing and turning and formulating a plan to skip school, I pretended to be sick. I knew the old tricks. I would hold my face over a bowl of steaming water so that the temperature rose, so when my mother used the thermometer there was an actual reason for me to stay home. Worked every time. I don’t know how I always got away with it.

I waited for the door to close and her car to start up, the sign that she was heading to work. I peeked my head out of the window. Show time!

I was dressed as quick as a flash, adorning a pair of old jeans and trainers, with a big brown sweater over a loose tee shirt. I grabbed my backpack full of ‘supplies’. A torch, a water bottle, some rope (I don’t know, I might have needed it at some point), lots of sweets to keep my energy up and my favourite item, a small pocket-knife I had gotten from my dad as a gift before he died last year. His death was the reason my mother chose to move us to the middle of nowhere.

Standing outside the barn, I looked up at the big door, intimidated. I wasn’t sure if I should go in through the front. I walked slowly around the back, finding a door on the side I hadn’t noticed from my days of staring at it through my bedroom window. There was a faint, musty smell coming from the door, as though it was as old as it looked. I pulled the rust brown handle and the door slid open quietly, not even creaking once. Perfect!

I moved inside quickly and shut the door, my back to the inside of the barn. I breathed quietly as I waited for some scary creature to jump out at me, my eyes closed tightly as I waited in the near-dark, imagining all the horrors that were possible. Nothing.

This was where the adventure began. I wanted to be the first one to discover the source of that noise. But I wanted to make sure I lived. Hand trembling slightly, I reached into my backpack for my pocket-knife, it’s carved handle giving me a little comfort when I felt it in my hand. I drew it out slowly and opened it, holding it in front of me as I started to take slow steps forward, trying to stay silent.

There was rustling coming from the other end of the barn, amongst the hay. My heart quickened as I drew nearer, my hand still shaking. I looked braver than I felt.

A small mouse darted from the hay and ran past me, squeaking crazily in a frenzy to escape. I jumped back in alarm, letting out a small squeal of disgust as it shot past me. It took a minute to calm myself and carry on further into the barn. I couldn’t see the source of the light I had witnessed last night. Nothing. Just shafts of sunlight poking their way through small holes in the barn roof and through cracks in the walls, adding a gentle fuzzy light to the darkness in which I could see swirls of dust dancing around.

I was getting a little put out by the lack of adventure and grew bored. I decided to turn back and leave the barn since it seemed empty. When I faced the door, it was standing in front of it. Blocking my escape. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as it screeched and took a slow step forward. It didn’t sound like a normal animal. I inspected its silhouette. It looked like a big lizard on all fours, its head was big like a wheelbarrow. It was the only comparison I could make. The dim light...it screeched again and as it opened its mouth, I could see that the back of its throat lit up, red and angry looking, like the light I had seen last night. Was that a...dragon? In my barn? It was our barn, because the locals had told us so. The field and its contents were our property. They just told us never to go in. I guess I knew why.

A gentle growl after the screech and then a small rumble. “You’re not running from me, child?”

The pocket-knife fell to the floor. It spoke. This wasn’t happening. “You can talk?”

The ground shook as it stomped a foot before plopping itself down onto the ground. Was he in a huff? “Of course we can talk. Don’t be a fool, boy. Why did you come in here?”

“This is MY barn, I should be asking YOU why you’re in HERE.”

“This is not yours, child. It has been my home for many years. I sought safety from persecution many moons ago. I found this to be of my liking. So I kept it. But the people used to try to get me out at first. They stopped trying when I burned most of them to a crisp. Beautiful bonfires, they were.”

I was standing in the dark, in a barn, arguing with a crazy old dragon. A DRAGON! I had to be dreaming. I pinched myself and gasped when it hurt. I guess it wasn’t a dream.

“Will you let me go? I’m not trying to get you out. I just had to see what was in here because you woke me up last night.”

I tried to talk casually, as though I was talking to a crazy bully in the playground. The dragon laughed at me. He LAUGHED at me!

“Child, you’ll not do anything to me, so I won’t do anything to you. You’re the first I’ve spoken with in years. As for waking you last night, I had just gotten back from a fight with another and as you can see, I’m hurt.”

He raised a scaly claw and I could faintly see blood on it, dripping steadily. I moved a little closer, hesitant at first. I stood right in front of him and looked up into eyes that smouldered much like the fire in the back of his throat. “Could I clean it? It might get infected. My mother showed me how to do it.”

The dragon let out a snort, amused. “I wish to see this. Please, if you must.”

I lowered my backpack from my shoulder onto the ground, opening it to take out the bottle of water, my torch and I found some bandages lurking near the bottom. I’d learned that if I was going anywhere to explore, I should always take these. The last time I needed them, I’d fallen escaping from a crazy dog and had grazed my leg quite badly. The dog never got me, thankfully. It lost interest the second I’d fallen.

I went back to where I’d dropped my pocket-knife and picked it up, dusting it and taking it back to my small pile of stuff in front of the dragon. I tore off a small strip of the bandage and soaked it in water, then used it to gently wipe the still dripping wound before using a longer bandage to put pressure on it and wrapped it tight before tying a small bow at the top. It was a difficult task. His front claws were huge! One wrong move of his claw and I’d be a goner, for sure!

“Child, there is a light switch on the wall over there.” He gestured with his head and I turned to look, spotting it instantly through the dimness.

I ran and flipped the switch. It was one of those old switches that looked like the ones you’d find on a weird old contraption. Light filled the barn, warm and glowing and I turned to face the dragon. In the dragon’s place, stood an old man, his wrist bandaged. He was beaming a gentle smile at me.

“I thank you for your service, young man. You’ve done an old man very proud. This is a good job with the bandage, I must say.”

“Sir? Where did the dragon go?”

“I AM the dragon. That is only what you see in the dark. This is my physical form during the day. Not very great, it doesn’t move fast but it’s the one I was stuck with.”

He shuffled towards the back of the barn, gesturing to me to follow. He rounded a corner and I found myself in a small, comfortable looking sitting room, complete with a stove and comfy-looking chairs and even books. This was in my barn? How did nobody know?

“Why do people tell us not to come in here?”

The old man sank into one of the chairs, a puff of dust rising from it, making him wheeze slightly. I handed him my water bottle without thinking. Gratefully, he took a small sip and nodded his head as he caught his breath back.

“Thank you, dear boy. They’re afraid, the silly old fools.”

“Well, you did say you burned loads of them to a crisp and basically made a bonfire out of them.”

The old man sighed and chuckled. “Yes, yes I did. And they deserved it, every last one. No, child, they believe me dead now, but the legend of me will suffice to keep everyone away from the old barn, so that I may live out my days in peace. At least until you arrived.”

I must have sat for hours and talked to the old man/dragon. He told me fantastic stories of his past and of glorious battles and horrible monsters he had clashed with. I remembered having to get home before my mother did and realised I wasn’t there. I had apologised profusely and promised to return the next day. Running home through the field, I remembered his last words to me before the lights went out and the dragon reappeared.

“Keep this secret. I will be your protector for the remainder of your days as you shall in turn protect me.”

I lay in bed that evening, picturing the flaming eyes of the beast that had let me live. Maybe being in the middle of nowhere was the beginning of my adventure...after all, I had a dragon in my barn.