Haunted, by Richard P. Gaunt

Haunted

by Richard P. Gaunt

ONE

The mist hung heavy across the fields as the glow in the east spread across the farm. As the young boy walked to the barn, the air was thick with the scent of yesterday's hay mowing, his nostrils tickled by the earthy, moist aroma. A sneeze cleared the irritants and he brought the back of his wrist across his nose before he grasped the worn wooden handle and pulled the barn door open.

The eerie shadows of the building at this time of day always set his senses on edge. Every knock, every creak was magnified through both the still morning air and his mind. A chill went over his skin despite the warm and humid interior but he pushed past his worry to finish what he came to do. He tried to imagine his uncle was with him. The barn never seemed as forbidding when he was there. But then uncle's presence filled whatever room he entered.

The boy smiled at the memory and got to work.

There was a noise overhead. He froze. Nothing else happened after a time, so he returned to his task, part of his attention still on the loft overhead, daring the noise to repeat itself.

A few minutes later, he was intent on his project, humming happily to himself. His uncle would be so pleased when he… There! Again! He stepped back from the workbench, eyes intent on the planking overhead.

"Who's there?" he called up. The seconds waiting for an answer seemed to stretch hours. Surely Aunt Judy would be calling him in for breakfast before he finished.

He strained to hear. Maybe it was a mouse, he thought, wondering how it could have climbed up so high. Was that a scuffling noise? Could that be a mouse? Whatever it was, it did not recur.

Nervously, he approached the bench again. It became hard to concentrate with the frequent glances upward, the stressful waiting for the next sound to manifest. The silence seemed to grow thicker than the mist outside.

Bang! He dropped the tool and almost fell off the stool. That was no mouse, he was certain. Something or someone was moving around up there.

"Who's there? Come on out. Show yourself!" He backed across the dirt floor kicking up bits a straw and hay unknowingly, trying to see up into the loft. "This isn't funny!"

There was no response. He wiped sweaty palms on the legs of his overalls and anxiously moved toward the workbench again. But his focus was gone and he could no longer concentrate on the task.

He fiddled with the cords almost waiting for the noise to return. Willing it to return.

Forever passed so slowly.

Pop! It was back. But he had been mentally prepared and did not react with such violence. Again his eyes strained in the dimness overhead for some clue, some evidence that he was not merely imagining this.

Off to his left, a rope dangled down. He recalled something about a ladder to the loft that could be lowered.

It was probably this rope.

He stepped quietly to the rope and grasped the rough plaited fibers in his small hands.

Perhaps he could scare whatever it was as much as they had frightened him. He moved his grasp a little higher on the rope and shifted his weight a bit to pull it in one quick movement.

A bead of sweat coursed from his eyebrow, down his cheek, and to his chin. He wanted to wipe it off but he was concentrating on the loft overhead. Just one more noise and he could surprise whatever was up there.

He waited, his hands straining against the rope but not pulling. Not yet. Wait just a bit longer. Another drop of sweat rolled from his eyebrow.

Bang!

With a start, he pulled on the rope as hard as he could.

There was a whooshing noise, something was in his face. He jumped backward and screamed, falling onto the seat of his overalls.

Mark Adams ducked his head as the boom mike was swung over his head and into position. He turned and grinned at his partner, Tyler Mellone, as the crew got into position. The lights went out.

"Show time," Tyler's voice came out of the darkness.

Mark smiled as they started another case for America's most watched paranormal investigation show. He only hoped they could find some answers and shed some light in this case for the worried mother of a little boy.

He hoped for resolve.