I moved out to the countryside in May last year. It is lovely out here, plenty of open space for the dogs. Well, Jack likes the fields. Mallory hasn’t gotten used to the countryside yet and spends all of her time curled up in the parlor.
The new cottage is a definite improvement over the flat. It’s an old cottage, white brick and a dark slate roof. It has its issues, a bit drafty in the winter and the roof leaks in the heavy storms. The rent was cheap though, so I managed.
My room is in a corner on the second floor, windows looking out over the front garden and towards the tree line at the side of the property. There’s an old barn near the trees. I’ve only been inside once so far, and to be honest, it kind of creeps me out. The previous renters emptied it out and now the barn just houses spiders and mice. Once it cooled off for fall, I called my sister Sheila out to help with repairs.
“The floor is rotting upstairs,” she said, “I wouldn’t set foot in the loft, and if you absolutely have to, step on the boards with nails. I’m surprised the landlord was walking around here earlier.”
“I wasn’t planning on that, you know I hate heights,” I said, “but what do you mean about the landlord being up there? It was just us this afternoon.”
“Are you sure? I could’ve sworn I saw someone up there when we were in your room earlier.”
“I would’ve thought he’d call if he needed to check out the property”, I responded.
Sheila left for town that afternoon, trying to make it off the country roads before it got too dark out. I called the landlord that evening asking if he had been on the property earlier. As I assumed, he hadn’t, and insisted he would call before showing up. I couldn’t shake that fear though, the fear that someone had been in the barn. Sheila wasn’t the kind of person to jump to conclusions like that and would’ve watched the window before truly believing a person would be there. Usually, I don’t let the dogs on the bed, but I allowed them tonight. It made me feel safer, although deep down I knew they were both cuddly pushovers.
I slept poorly that night. Every creak and groan startled me back awake, my paranoia getting worse with every sound. Time and time again I reminded myself that this was an old cottage in the middle of nowhere, it would be strange to have complete silence. Jack and Mallory slept fine.
They were full of energy the following morning, almost dragging me behind them during our morning walk.
We stopped by the barn at the end of our walk. I was more hesitant to step inside without Sheila here. I let the dogs off their leash, expecting at least Jack to run off into the field to get out the rest of his energy, but they both stayed at my side. We walked around the barn, not seeing much more than the cobwebs strewn around the beams and posts. Against my better judgement, I took a few steps up the stairs to the loft, the dogs staying below. The floorboards creaked, but they held. I hated each step, but I knew I would hate not knowing more.
I went just high enough to see into the loft. I really expected some mice or birds, but surprisingly, there were no animals. It was completely quiet. Satisfied, I scrambled back down the ladder happy to be on solid ground again.
Jack and Mallory were waiting impatiently for me at the entrance to the barn. I don’t blame them for wanting to leave. Spooky happenings or not, this barn didn’t feel exactly safe to be in. I know Sheila focused on the issues in loft, but honestly, I felt that a strong storm would rip the barn right from the ground.
I spent the day painting. I was glad the landlord approved of a new coat of paint, but I’ve been putting off repainting the kitchen all summer. With the cold coming in, it would be best to get it over with. Half of my time wasn’t even spent painting, just trying to keep Mallory and Jack out of trouble. I love them dearly, but I do not love pulling strands of fur out of paint.
It was dark by the time I finished for the night. My head was pounding, the smell of paint had taken a toll on me. I went around the house closing windows anyway; I didn’t really feel comfortable having my house open like that. I got to my room last. I closed one window, then moved to the other window overlooking the barn. I stared out the window into the darkness, trying to see anything. It was all just dark shapes, trees moving in the cool night air. I closed the window and turned to close the curtains when I saw it. A light, just bright enough to see out of the corner of my eye but dark enough to avoid direct sight. I flung the window open, eyes scanning the silhouette of the barn. Nothing. I searched the trees, still nothing. Heart racing, I closed the window again, chiding myself for getting so worked up. Still, I kept the light on when I went to sleep.
I woke up to a cold breeze. I could see the curtains moving in the draft of my window, open again. The sound of my own heart echoing in my mind, I crept to the open window.
The light was there again. Brighter, like a candle flame in the window of the barn. I could just see the silhouette of a figure in front of this light. I reached up to draw the curtains closed, and the figure raised their arms. I stood still, moving my arms back to my sides, watching as the figure mirrored me. I realized this was just a reflection of myself that has been putting me on edge. Just an unfortunate placement of two windows making my mind race. I watched my reflection in that window. I watched as one arm became two, as a second figure stepped into light. I watched that figure stand completely still, as still as my breathing had become. The pounding of my heart almost drowned out the sound of Jack and Mallory scratching frantically at the bedroom door. I watched as the second figure raised an arm, then the other, and placed them on the first figure. My mind racing, my body frozen, I stared as I felt the cold weight of two hands falling on my shoulders. I watched the figures in the window, watched the first crumple to the floor, as I mirrored that last movement.
Cait Boyle is a recent graduate of Lindenwood University, where she now works as MakerSpace Coordinator. She often writes short stories in the horror genre. In her free time, she enjoys sewing, drawing, and playing tabletop games with friends and family.
Arrow Rock Literary Journal 
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