The Wishing Barn

It started with the old farmer next door seeing his dead wife in their old barn. He kept going in there more and more each day until he thought he might have been hallucinating. He talked to his doctor, had an MRI and CT scan finding no issues, talked with a psychiatrist, and eventually asked the other neighbours to look inside.

The neighbours didn't see his dead wife, but they did see something. Tears streaming down their faces, they rushed to recount what they had seen. Some had seen their own dead relatives, loved ones, but their children saw a wonderland of strange creatures from their vivid imaginations.

Word spread, and people came. First, it was the skeptics, the curious, but when they all exited the barn with widened eyes filled with joyful tears or surprise, then they became believers.

I watched as the old farmer stopped going into the barn himself and instead began charging others for the privilege of entering. It turned into some kind of carnival attraction, a freak show of a small town, the eighth wonder of the world located in the haybarn of a dairy farmer.

That was when he started calling it The Wishing Barn, saying that you could see your heart's desire just beyond its doors. All for fifty dollars.

Even my parents, part of the skeptics, went inside and came out true believers in The Wishing Barn. I saw firsthand what it did to those who went inside. It became like a drug. The need to enter became uncontrollable, and once you entered, it became harder and harder to leave. As supply and demand dictated, the price was raised again and again the more people showed up. I saw people dumping their life savings away just for more time inside, to the point where they had to be dragged out so others could have their turn.

The farmer hired security, but eventually, he didn't even need to pay them with money. He paid them in time within the barn. I wondered how it was the farmer resisted entering it again after he began charging. Maybe money was just far more important to him than seeing his wife again.

The people who went inside became sick in the head, and the sight of it through my bedroom window made me sick in turn. But at the same time, I couldn't help but wonder about this unnatural phenomenon. What would I see inside those time-worn wooden doors?

When it gained national attention, propelled by social media and the mystery of how cameras couldn't capture what was happening, scientists began showing up.

At first, seeing that those who entered seemed fine, both externally and internally, the scientists entered without any protection. Then, the smarter ones could feel what was happening and either tried to measure things from a safe distance or entered with hazmat suits. They all had to pay, though, and they were watched thoroughly by security.

Before the government could get involved, some rich asshole came to see it for himself. After he came back out, he bought it from the farmer for an obscene amount of money on the spot. The farmer accepted—because of course he did the greedy bastard. It didn't matter how happy it made people seeing what they desired most in the world, not to the asshole and not to the greedy farmer. The barn was locked up from that point forward, awaiting the time when the rich asshole would have the barn moved to a more secure location.

As the days passed, and the survey crews, heightened security, and drilling companies came around to search for a way to move the barn, ground and all, away, my sick wonderment began to overpower me. I needed to see inside before it was gone. The more that desire grew inside me, the more I hated myself for it like two sides of a coin in a perpetual toss.

Curiosity won. The night before the drilling company was set to work, I snuck past the guards, knowing their routine from living next door was easy, and I picked the lock to get inside.

Inside, it smelled of fresh hay and dirt, old wood, wet and weathered, like any barn. As I stepped forward, the floorboards creaking and groaning as if they were speaking to me, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary or extraordinary or strange. It was just a regular old barn like any other.

I let out a sigh of disappointment and turned to leave. Then, I saw it. I saw what the barn knew was my one desire: a gas canister and a lighter.

I felt a grin spread across my face as I picked them up and began unscrewing the cap of the gasoline.