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The Old Barn

On a cold, Winter's morning, the Old Barn realises that it will not be a good day.

By Travis BerketaPublished 3 years ago 5 min read
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The Old Barn
Photo by Dick Hoskins on Unsplash

The Old Barn hunched over in a bid to protect itself from the chilly winds that whipped over the snow-laden farm, as the elderly farmer continued to dig around the snow that trapped his pick-up truck on this frosty morning. The barn could feel in its timbers that it was not going to be a good day.

The snow had fallen overnight, infiltrating the Old Barn through the dilapidated, corrugated iron roof, which creaked and moaned in a mournful, metallic cry in the wind. The farmer looked up at the barn in order to catch his breath, just as much as out of curiosity. He adjusted his glasses and beanie, sighed a visible puff of air, and went back to his task. The barn knew it was not going to be a good day.

When it was first erected by the farmer’s grandfather, the barn was a place of warmth and celebration. The Old Barn remembered the Winters where all sorts of people would come and take shelter within its wooden walls – the red timbers with the white skirting boards, shone as a beacon for all to see it as a shelter from the elements. The feathered-people and hooved-people alike always snuggled away safely in their pens, while the barn’s strong new walls kept the frosty winter winds at bay. Now, however, the Old Barn’s once formidable timbers had rotted away with neglect and the rains had washed away the iridescent red, leaving patches of colour, but mostly warped, grey planks. The barn sighed with a groan of its skeletal frame; it knew that it was not going to be a good day.

As the farmer ceased his burden once again to cough into a handkerchief, the barn hoped that the old man remembered the days when he was a child and he came for sleepovers with his friends inside the barn. The children found the soft hay, which had been piled up in one corner for the hooved-people, was a fun-filled place for them to tumble and play. It was also a comfortable place to nestle on a warm Spring night, before the Summer’s oppressive heat would beat down on the corrugated roof. The farmer’s grandfather would always open the barn’s large front and back doors to allow some reprieve with the slight zephyrs that swept strands of straw away into the fields. The Old Barn shuddered with an immense creak, as another icy blast hit its fragile frame; it knew that it was not going to be a good day.

The barn heard the electronic device from the farmstead blaring into the cold morning air. The device spoke of inclusion and acceptance – apparently people were not like the Old Barn – they did not always accept other people because of differences. The device told the farmhouse that all lives mattered – it shouted about equality and allowing all people to live safely in this world. The Old Barn knew that the device was only booming because the farmer and his wife could not listen as well as they used to. It understood that the device was telling them to do the same things that the barn had been doing all of its life – bring safety to everyone, no matter what type of people they were. And although the Old Barn was glad to hear that the device was starting to accept everyone, it still had the unshakable feeling that it was not going to be a good day.

By Cliff Johnson on Unsplash

The crunch of the farmer’s shovel bit into the snow once more and the barn heard the old man’s curses, as he threw his load off to the side. A snow-white barn owl – a former resident – flapped silently into the barn to see what it could see. The Old Barn became reacquainted with an old feeling – the feeling of being wanted once more. It remembered the days when it would work in tandem with the owl. The barn would welcome in the small rodent-people, who came to eat the seeds and grain that had often fallen to the floor; then the owl, which was usually nestled in the darkness of the barn’s eaves, would swoop down and collect the rodent that the barn had welcomed. At first, the barn had been aghast at what it had been a party to, but as time went on, it realised that this was all part of a cycle of life. The bitter winds chilled its insides once again, as the owl departed empty-handed. The Old Barn came to an epiphany and it finally understood why it knew this would not be a good day.

Just then, the Old Barn’s attention was drawn yet again to the farmer, as the old man let out a gasp and clutched at his chest. The shovel fell onto the snow and the farmer tried to cry out before he followed the shovel down. The Old Barn looked to the farmhouse, which sat there smug and warm, with smoke billowing out of its chimney. The Old Barn groaned and rocked in the hope of getting the farmer’s wife’s attention, but nothing stirred from the farmhouse and only the blare of the electronic device cut through the Winter winds.

The farmer struggled in vain against the freezing cold and the barn accepted its fate. With the help of one terribly, cold gust of wind, the Old Barn squealed and moaned; one of its corrugated iron sheets tore off and danced in the wind before dropping limply beside a fence post. It jerked suddenly to the side once more and with a final rickety groan, the Old Barn toppled with an almighty CRASH!

The Old Barn felt numb. It took one last look at the farmhouse – the door had swung open and it noticed the old woman urgently making her way down the porch steps towards the farmer. The Old Barn let out one last sigh, before darkness took it – this was not a good day.

Short Story
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About the Creator

Travis Berketa

I am a father. I am a teacher. I am a writer.

I love reading fictional stories and I love writing fictional stories.

I hope you enjoy my contribution to Vocal.

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