The House My Father Left Me

I sat in the kitchen staring out the back door as the barn door swung open in the wind. The heat of summer was thick on this August night. The wind was more of an insult than a relief. It felt like someone was breathing on your face. It seemed that it was even too hot for the bugs to come out. Normally the fireflies would start to come out as the sun went down. But not tonight. As the sunset and the blanket of the night covered the sky, clouds lingered in the sky so not even the moon was visible. A storm was clearly coming.

My objective of coming to the summer house for a month was to restore the old barn. My father, rest his soul, kept the house in good condition while he was alive. But the barn was always last on his list. Inheriting the property upon his death, I decided to keep it and rent it out as an Airbnb. The only thing preventing me from posting was that barn that looked like it was 100 years old. Major liability in its current condition. Depending on how this storm goes, tomorrow's plans may be a wash. At least I got all the junk out today.

It was 9:38 when I realized that Jo, my german shepherd, never came in. At this point, he has normally gotten hungry enough to return for dinner. He lived the life of a king here. He roamed freely through the day. Lounging under the willow tree or on the porch, with his own personal doggy door to retreat in the AC when necessary. He preferred to stay outside as much as he could whenever we were here. So it is not out of the ordinary.

“JO,” I called from the window. “Come in you silly dog.”

Silence.

“Jo it's dinner time,” I yelled while clicking his bowl.

Finally, there was some rustling in the bushes. The silence was eerie tonight. It was as thick as the air. Hearing Jo scurry home was comforting. The solidarity of the house was always a little unsettling, but at least the view of the lake and mountains was amazing. This was the true selling point of the house; it was nestled on an almost private lake. There were only four other houses on it, but it was big enough to race some jet skis around on without disturbing them. It was an hour's drive into town and a solid 10-minute drive to the nearest neighbor. Even though I preferred the sound pollution of the city, Jo thrived here.

As he approached the first lighting strike lit up the skyline. I had to do a double-take. It looked like there was someone next to the barn. I ran to hit the backyard light switch and peered out the door.

There was no one there. The heat of the day must be messing with me. Dehydration hallucinations. Or just heat exhaustion.

Jo sat outside the door crying to come in, now terrified of the storm. I opened the door and stepped out to make sure, but sure enough, no one was out there. I followed in after Jo and shut the door. Jo was soaked, which was weird because he hates water. I grabbed a dishtowel only to realize he was also covered in dirt.

I picked him up, carried him into the bathroom to rinse him off, and check him for cuts. As I turned on the shower another flash of lightning lit the sky which drew my attention outside. There was definitely someone standing in front of the old barn which was clearly lit by the backyard light even as the sky darkened again. Then the power cut.

Panic.

“Jo. Jo Come.” I softly said. Frozen as if the trespasser could hear me from inside. Somehow having the soaking wet dog by my side felt empowering at the moment.

The spray from his coat brought me back, covering me in dirty water, which he then went to lick clean. Gross. There is no time for that with someone loitering in the backyard. The nearest neighbor is around the lake. Did they have car trouble? Why did they go into the backyard? Why is the power out? Have I watched one too many horror movies?

I armed myself with a hammer I left on the table earlier in the day. I am not going to chance it.

The thunder and rain echoed through the house. As I approached the back door the lightning flashed and a silhouette stood out in the back door which was wide open. What felt like an hour passed as terror swept over me. They entered the house as I tried to run away at what felt like a snail's pace towards the front door, which was also wide open.

In a panic, I ran up the stairs and toward the master bedroom only to realize I dropped the hammer. My phone was downstairs so I couldn't call for help. I had no time and no furniture to blockade the door. I fled to the bathroom and closed the door. Hoping it would buy me some time.

Where is Jo?

He isn’t barking. He didn't follow me.

The creak of the floor brought me back to. Then I heard Jo panting outside the door.

I opened the door to find Jo outside with my dad.

It can’t be. He is dead.

As I sit paralyzed looking up my father says “ You shouldn’t have touched the barn.”

I didn’t notice the hammer in his hand until he brought it down on my head.