Red

Red

Night had fallen. He took the small candle and shone it upon the latch to open the large red door. Small specks of red lead paint flecked off as he slid the heavy load to the side. He sniffed and wiggled his nose as the hay dust greeted him. He forced back the sneeze, as the barn animals where already nestled in to their soft beds. The candle showed a dim pathway down the centre of the vast building. The barn stood the test of time for many years, and it seemed it would see many more before it collapsed. A snort filled the silence as he paced through the haystacks. “Must be ol’ Daliah,” he mused aloud. A light whinny was answered back. Candle fire traced deep lines in his weathered and cracked hand. The warmth it provided was no more than a whisper on this chilly darkness, but it held great power. The power to consume and destroy. Such a small thing… surely it couldn’t be a danger.

He stopped and rested against a bale, placing his other hand upon it and leaning heavily. He was exhausted. This farm life was not for the faint of heart. Most of the money he made from his fields, and gardens, and pens, was immediately put back into them. Constant mending and upkeep swarmed his mind. The south fence needs repair. If I don’t take a look at that tractor hitch, it will be likely to break off come fall harvest. He placed the candle gently on the hay next to his other hand, careful he didn’t spill any of the precious wax. He looked up to the rafters. One of them had buckled from the dump they got back in early march. Wet, thick, cold had covered every outside surface from here to Lestock. He sighed, and walked on to look at his recently finished work. New stable gates for all the animals, thick shiny chrome, smiled back from the hinges and latches. The wood had been repurposed from the fence that went down after the snowfall, frost had gone into the posts and rotted their purchase in the ground. Now the wood was exactly where it needed to be.

His head dipped low as he walked back to the door. He didn’t even need his eyes open to make it back and close the door behind him. The warmth of the barn left his body quickly, so he picked up and went faster to his old farmhouse. He opened the door to darkness and heat. The fire had dispersed to mere embers. Another task at hand. It seemed his days never ended, and he felt this year in particular seemed to be even harder. He added thin kindling and the deep red began to glow as he used his bellows to bring it alight. The darkness was quickly chased away as the flames licked up their supper. He staggered heavily to his liquor cabinet. A quick nightcap to keep him warm. The heat in his belly once he took the solution was great. It welled up and produced a searing burp that made his eyes water. He threw some more wood on the fire, and went down the narrow hallway to his room. He disrobed quietly and slumped into bed. His eyes shut tight and sleep came very fast.

The barn loomed in the darkness, paint chips lifted and dipped slowly in the gentle breeze. A draft whispered in from the loft hole up top. It traveled down, moving to and fro. It blew down to the main level and tickled pieces of straw as it passed by. The candle came into view. A great well of wax had filled up the high sides surrounding the wick. The candle was dying, its wick being swallowed by the moist wax. Its fuel and now its folly was stifling the flame. Just then the breeze reached the flame, bringing it fresh oxygen and life! Too much was given! The flame went out. *it almost went out.* the finest flame danced lightly on the edge of the wick, which had now become droopy with a droplet of carbon. The drop was extremely hot and ready to burn, filled full of energy, but the flame was going out. The last light danced along the haystacks as the wick slowly dropped lower and lower. A soft kiss of wax touched the tip of the carbon deposit and what happened next was mayhem. The molten ball exploded on impact. Embers of wax covered fire went in every direction. A flame renewed in 20 different places lit up the barn like a disco ball. Quickly the dry straw began to catch fire. When the fire droplets had doubled the size of their long gone candle mother, they began to feast gluttonously. Any thing they touched was aflame, burning red hot. The fire raged on.

Daliah woke with a start as smoke filled her nostrils. Her large glassy eyes opened at once but stung and shut tight immediately. The barn was full of smoke and deadly light. She peered though her eyelids and saw that the barn was a fire. She was terrified, frantic to run away from this place. She got up, turned around, and began kicking at the gate that the farmer recently installed. It was no use. The gate and wood were too strong for her kicks. She turned back around and backed off as far as she could go. When she ran out of stall, she galloped quickly in the short space. She leapt. With a graceful jump she landed on her hooves in the centre of the barn. Flames surrounded her, licking closer for their next morsel.

She looked around, trying to see a way out. That’s when she heard the cries of terror from the other animals. She went to the nearest gate. A sad pair of goat eyes stared back at her pleading for help. She tried to loosen the latch with her teeth. Saliva covered the gleaming chrome and dripped down as she worked fiercely. No matter how she angled her mouth, the latch stayed firmly closed. She ran to the next gate and tried again. The frightened oinks from behind the wood cried out. Again she had no luck. Her eyes darted behind her as her tail hair was singed. The smell put her into a panic. She moved to the next silver latch and saw a flaming carcass. Blisters formed on her rump as the flames chased her down the narrow alley. She got to the big sliding barn door. Its rusty rails creaked and cracked in the heat. She used her shoulder to try and slide the door, but it wouldn’t budge. She turned and faced the flames. Her kicks were loud and strong against the old wood. Her lips chapped and burned close to the fire. At last her hoof splintered through the door. She continued working tirelessly. Pieces of paint and wood shot out into the cool air. The door was destroyed. Her mane caught flame as she raced out into the field and far away.

The grass caught in every direction and moved steadily towards the house where the man lay, in a deep dreamless sleep aided by the drink earlier. The wails of the damned travelled deep into the night.