You Should Smile More

The moon was full tonight; that was a bad sign. Andrew Thompson shivered as the wind snapped his pajama bottoms around his ankles, his arms prickling with goose flesh despite his attempts to rub warmth into them. He had to hurry, if his father found him out here... well, he didn't even want to think about that. He stood outside the barn, its structure rising over him like a tsunami about to drop. Just forget it, there's nothing in there, you're making stuff up, go back to bed before you get in trouble. Yet, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself he couldn't shake the feeling of dread, the truth was that early today he'd found something he shouldn't have and he didn't think it was something he could ignore. Breathing a shaky almost painful breathe he lifted the padlock that sealed the doors, the hairs on the back of his neck raising as the rusty metal screeched. His hands were so shaky it took him a couple tries to get the key in but when he did it opened with a click that sounded loud enough to wake the dead.

Dropping the padlock in the dirt he inched the door open, the darkness inside complete all but for the small sliver of moonlight the peeked in from the door. The barn moaned as the wind blew through the spaces between the weathered planks, cracking and creaking as it shifted. Frozen in the entrance he stared into the dark belly of the barn, his legs shaking beneath him and threatening to abandon strength all together. He shouldn't be here, this was all Kyle's fault!

"Why do you have two barns?" he'd asked, like the stupid child he was. Kyle was younger than him and always coming over even though Andrew told him not to.

"One is too old to use." Andrew had asked the same thing once, and now regurgitated the answer his father had given him. Kyle made a scrunched-up face.

"That doesn't make sense. I've seen a bunch of old barns and people still use them. Why would you build a whole new barn instead of fixing up one you already have" he shook his head as he crossed his arms " that just sounds like a waste of money to me. You should tell your dad that. It's a waste of money."

"Sure," Andrew sighed. He hadn't really been listening to Kyle, he worked hard to ignore him actually, but since they were talking about the barn he couldn't help but glance over as they walked past. He stared at it a lot, though he wasn't sure why it interested him. It was just like any old-fashioned barn, but the way it had been stripped of colour made it seem as though it were from a different time; tall, grey, and weather worn, it looked like something out of an old photo. He'd studied it so many times that he could rebuild the entire structure in his head, it was as if it lived there, a permanent stamp on the back of his mind. Somehow he felt that the barn was older than anything else on the farm, like it ruled over everything that dared step foot on the property. A shiver ran up his spine and he turned to rush away, but resisted. Something was off. What exactly was it? His eyes scanned the structure like a puzzle, trying to find that one piece that fit. There! The windows, for as long as he'd known, had been covered in a thick blue tarp- to keep the thieves away, his father said- but now a single corner had fallen, leaving a small triangle to peek through.

"I dare you to look inside!" Kyle pushed him closer when he told him, "you have to or I'll tell everyone you chickened out!"

Andrew wanted to slug the kid right there but figured it wasn't worth the fight, what harm could it do really? The barn was used for junk storage, all that would be there was some old equipment and rusty tools. That's what he'd thought anyway, but he'd been wrong. Oh, so, so wrong. If only Kyle hadn't dared him, if only he'd told him to stuff it and go home. But he didn't and now here he was. Against his every instinct he pushed the door shut behind him, what little light he'd had dying out and leaving him in a black abyss. He couldn't risk his father looking out the window and seeing the barn door open, he realized that but still had to fight the urge to throw it ajar. There was an aweful buzzing noise that filled the darkness, but that was the only sound. Fishing the flashlight from the pocket of his windbreaker he flicked it on, aiming its beam across the floor of the barn inch by inch, moving up and up, the light bouncing off discarded beer bottles and rusty nails before finally landing on the corner of a pristine white sheet. It had been this sheet that haunted him since he'd first spotted it, well, not the sheet itself but... he moved the flashlight beam up more and his breathe caught. Yeah, there it was, the same as before. Poking out from beneath the sheet, almost matching it in pallor, was a hand. A dead body he realized, he was able to make out the outline. Fear struck him like a whip and he turned to run, tripping over his feet as he did and sending the flashlight flying from his sweaty grip. It bounced off the floor and rolled into the back corner, sending his shadow stretching up the front wall as he stood. He'd meant to get to his feet and keep going, but he felt his blood run cold and his body stiffen and he was unable to move. Whether it was fear that held him there or something else he couldn't tell but he realized he was at its mercy.

"You're back," a voice spoke. It was that of a young girl though it was croaky and strained. The floor creaked as the corpse sat up its shadow creeping up the wall beside his own. "Please help me, please tell them where I am." No, no, no, no! This couldn't be happening. He was hallucinating or something! Yes, that was it. He needed to go back to bed. "My parents don't know where I am," she said, "they don't know what happened to me. Please, let me out." For an instant the spell was broken and his head snapped back. He'd been wrong; the girl was still alive! She was backlight so he couldn't see her face but he could see she was huddled into herself, hugging her knees to her chest. Andrew felt his stomach lurch as he let reality set in.

"My father did this?" he was almost afraid to ask. How could he possibly believe his father was capable of murder? Then again, he rubbed at his wrist that was swollen and bruised, the imprint of fingers branded along its circumference, his father had never been a stranger to brutality. John Thorton was not a very good father, or a good man, but had it been too much to hope that he'd keep that side of him contained?

"He told me I should smile more as he hurt me," she sobbed, "he's a monster. He deserves to be punished. Let me out, you can do that can't you? You can help me? Just let me out."

"We have to be careful he doesn't see us," Andrew said, walking around her to pick up the flashlight, "we can get out of here as long as we're quiet. He should be asleep now." He'd meant to say more. Tell her how sorry he was that this had happened, to not be afraid, that he would get her home, but all that stuck in his throat. The light illuminated the girl and he felt sick all over again. Her eyes were gone, clumsily cut from her head so that the sockets were congealed with dried blood. Her flesh had begun to rot, peeling from the corners of her mouth to create a sickening fly infested smile. Vomit filled his mouth and he slapped his hands to his lips to keep it from spewing.

"Let me out!" she shrieked, "Let me out! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!"

He ran, stirring up flies as he flew past her. Oh God, Oh God. What was that? She was dead! She was really dead! Dead people weren't supposed to talk! The screaming continued, following him out as he stumbled back out into the open air. He moved for an instant to pick up the lock, but paused. "Leave then," he called back, leaving the door as he ran back to the house. And take that man with you he added in his head.

He stood over his father once he was back inside. The old man had fallen asleep where he always did, in his recliner in front of the t.v. Here he almost looked peaceful, you wouldn't imagine he could be capable of something so horrifying. Andrew clutched the phone in his hand, it felt heavier than usual and as he lightly rubbed the buttons with his thumb he wondered if perhaps he'd been wrong. It was late, he was tired, it wasn't unusual for someone to hallucinate. Tomorrow he would call, he would go back in the light of day and then he'd know for sure and he'd drag that stupid Kyle with him too since he'd started all this. Then he'd know for sure. He hadn't slept much that night, the vision of that girls face was etched in the back of his mind and once he'd awoke from a nightmare where she'd been watching him from his doorway. He slipped out of bed as soon as the sun began to stream through his blinds, running into the living room and noticing his father was no longer there. From the window he could see the truck still in the driveway and yet the house was silent. Past the truck he could see the barn, the door still wide open. Part of him had hoped last night had been a dream, but the stench from the night before had still been in his nose when he awoke, a dream couldn't do that. At least it never had before.

When he entered the barn everything looked the same, the sheet was still there with what was irrefutably a body beneath it. It didn't shock him so much this time, he realized he'd been expecting it. The only difference was that now there were two bundles, and part of him realized he'd been half expecting this as well. Beside the girl was a larger figure the sheet not nearly long enough to cover the whole body, its feet hung out the bottom, dry, callused and bloody. Inching closer he bent down to pull the sheet off. His fathers mutilated face stared up at him. All the flesh from the nose down had been torn off leaving a large permanent grin, and his eyes were wide as though still caught in the horror of his death. Andrew stumbled towards the window and pulled the tarp down in a desperate attempt to see better. Light poured in, illuminating the walls. Bloody letters sprawled across the walls and the door and ceiling to write out the same phrase: You should smile more.

***

Detective Brooks messaged his temples, he was nearing the start of a headache, he could feel it. "What... What do you mean, the autopsy doesn't make sense." The coroner stood in front of him wearing a confused wide eyed expression. Jesus, they had to stop hiring these new guys.

"I mean, I ran the contents of her stomach to predict time of dead and it was full."

"Full of what?" Brooks was losing his patience.

"Human flesh sir."

"What?"

"More precisely, John Thorton's face."