The Barn

It was a muggy evening. The south was always hot and humid during the summer, but tonight was the worst for Mildred, or Milly to her friends. She was soaked in sweat and more was running out of her pores. Her clothes stuck to her like a wetsuit. The old hay on the ground was sticking to her exposed legs and short shorts, while the new, bundled, hay blocked her from the entrance to the dilapidated barn she was currently hiding in.

She was terrified, out of breath and unsure of what was chasing her. Milly and her friends had been having a party out in the field between two friend's houses. There was a huge bonfire, country music blaring out of an old Ford pickup, coolers with both alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks and college kids just acting stupid. Everything was fine until people started disappearing. At first everyone thought the missing people were either messing with them or went off in the dark to mess with each other. It was all lighthearted fun and jokes until a high pitched scream rang out in the night. The scream cut through the noise and music and everyone just stared at one another as it peaked. The scream started to come back down, since the girl was losing her breath, and ended quickly with a loud gurgle. Then, besides the country music wafting through the air, it went eerily silent.

People continued to look at one another. They didn't know if the scream was genuine or some stupid prank. Their thoughts were answered when a recognizable arm flew out of the darkness, landed in the bonfire and rolled, just slightly singed, out of the fire into clear view for the remaining people. It took a few moments for people to realize that the severed arm belonged to Ashley Bradford. The identifying mark was a small green heart with the initials D.B., for her brother that had passed from cancer.

After someone half whispered "Oh my God, Ashley.", remaining group scattered. Engines fired up and threw grass, dirt and rocks into the air as they flew out of the field. Milly was left alone, in the dark, with her ugly off-white Ford Anglia refusing to start. Tears were filling her eyes to the point of overflowing with every violent strike upon the steering wheel and hysterical screams at the car to start. She soon fell quiet and still because of the growing noise.

At first her banging and screams drowned out the noise, but now the sounds were closer and louder. Without a visual Milly could only guess at what she was hearing. And her imagination probably made it worse. What she saw in her mind had to be worse than the truth, but she didn't want the truth. She wanted her crap car to start so she could leave.

The ofimage a large white male with a balding scalp, overalls with no undershirt showing off his bear pelt chest, mud caked boots and dragging an axe behind him kept flooding her mind. His breathing was labored, probably from killing half a dozen college kids, and his eyes glazed over. He was also wider than he was tall. And her imagination had him the size of a giant.

The breathinglabored and scrapping on the ground suddenly stopped. Milly's head flew from side to side too quickly to actually recognize anything in the moonless night. This freaked her out even more, causing her to hear and feel her rapid heart beat in her ears. Without another thought she tried jumping out of her car. This did not go well, at all. One of her shoelaces got caught on something from underneath her seat and she landed, hard, face first on the ground. This stunned her for just a second and she was off into the dark field.

Sweat was pouring out of her and her lungs were on fire, but her imagination put the overweight maniac right on her heels. The sounds from the killer had died out by the time she noticed a light. The light was illuminating the slightly cracked door of what was once a red barn. The barn clearly had better years. It was dilapidated with holes through the walls, rot clear on the wood and the once brilliant red was now a sun soaked brown.

As she neared the opening she could smell fresh hay mixed with the distinct odor of old hay. Once inside she ran all over looking for a hiding place. She didn't trust the old ladder to the second story in the corner. After her third look she decided she would hide in the hay. She did her best to arrange the bundles as quickly as possible to give her an unobstructed view of the entrance. She then made as small of a square as she could and crawled in.

The faint sound of heavy breathing and scraping on the rocks found its way to her ears. She covered her mouth and nose in an attempt to block her breathing; she also scrunched down as far as possible, while still leaving space for her to look out towards the door. It didn't take long before she thought her pursuer had found another way in and was standing over her. The sound of his breathing was so close she thought the warm June breeze, that somehow managed to make it through the barn wall and her hay wall, was breathing on her neck. This caused her to jump and let out a shallow shriek.

After covering her mouth and nose even tighter she settled back into her spot. It didn't take much longer before an odd, almost translucent, shadow appeared in front of the barn door. Milly held her breath as the figure continued to walk under the light. It suddenly stopped and so did Milly's heart. She could now see what could only be the man's arm reaching forward. Three long and pale fingers inched themselves around the edge of the door. With a quick tug the barn door swung outward and caused a loud bang as it collided with the wall. This also caused Milly to jump, but she didn't let out a sound or raised her head to see the man that was coming in the barn. The man's breathing sounded funny as it echoed around the barn. It was almost like he was inhaling and exhaling through more than nostrils and a mouth.

Her curiosity got the better of her and she raised her head just high enough to see through the slit in the hay bundles. What she saw froze her veins. Once her blood started flowing again she let out the loudest, ear splitting, scream she had ever let out. Her stalker wasn't even human. The creature's body was covered in green matted fur. Instead of eyes it had two long antenna protruding out from where the eye sockets should have been. On top of these antennas were orange balls that seemed to act as its eyes. And now Milly knew why the things breathing sounded so strange. Where there was once a long nose, similar to an anthropomorphic wolf, now was nothing more than an open wound.

As she continued to scream she was able to make out even more details. The creature was extremely muscular, tall, naked, covered in more wounds and a large amount of blood. From the amount of blood caked onto its fur, plus the puddles of it he was leaving behind him, Milly was dumbfounded as to how this thing was still alive.

As the thing took a step inside Milly noticed what she had thought was an axe. The alien werewolf's left leg was destroyed. However it could put pressure on the mangled appendage was beyond her, but with another step forward he dragged his left leg up to his right. With the majority of his nose gone Millie was confident that he could not smell her. It seemed her assumption was correct as the monster took a few more steps inside and let out a loud roar. A few seconds after the roar a loud banging could be heard coming from the house about 100 yards away. Distant shouting could be heard and the werewolf turned around. He hobbled himself out and after the noise. Milly took this opportunity to run, but as she neared the open door she heard a loud, "What tha ..." which was drowned out by another roar and gunshots. She quickly turned around and dove back in her safe hay place.

The gunshots must not have had any effect because she could now hear Mr. Simpson yelling profanities as his voice went from loud to quiet and back to loud. It wasn't much longer before Mr. Simpson ran through the open door and started rustling through drawers and cabinets. He was muttering, "Where are they?", under his breath in-between looking back at the entrance. He must have found what he was looking for because Milly heard Mr. Simpson start to load his shotgun. After it was full the cocking echoed and he turned to the door. It was right on time. The monster's shadow entered first and as soon as Mr. Simpson saw the creature's body he started unloading shot after shot. The first two shots peppered the inside wall, but the third hit. It seemed like the monster stepped out of view for a moment. It was only a moment, though. The body peaked around the corner, but this time Mr. Simpson waited for his prey to come fully inside the barn. He then finished unloading his shotgun at the werewolf, but after a close range shot that hit him in his chest he vanished. All of the evidence of his presence disappeared. Well, at least the puddles of blood and clumps of hair were gone. Its tracks were still there, the barn door was still open and Milly could only imagine her friends were still scattered in the field.

"Rock salt? I grabbed the wrong ones," Mr. Simpson said in his normal voice as he picked up the spent shells, "But it worked, I guess."

"Is it over?" Milly asked cautiously as she rose from her hiding spot, "Is it dead?"

This startled the older Mr. Simpson and he aimed his shotgun at the movement. Once he realized who it was he calmly asked, "Milly, why are you in my hay?"