Short Tales of Abominations

Goat Farm

Clark was awoken in the dead of the night by a strange thumping noise. He sleepily raised his head to look around the room, peering over his brothers who slept to his right.

Thump-ump, thump-ump

He took a few moments to ponder whether his heart raced from a forgotten nightmare or the sound was apart from himself. It didn't sound like a racing heart, but it was loud and rhythmic enough to be. He tucked slightly into the blanket. Was it a ghost?

He thought about calling for his dad or grandpa, neither of which would be happy to be woken up.

Thump-ump, thump-ump

The noise pounded into his head with the force of an M80. He checked the walls to see if they were cracking. The house was old and might have been falling apart. The picture frames on the wall were still. With the vibrations ringing in his head, he thought they'd at least be shifting with each boom.

Thump-ump, thump-ump

He decided to check it out. Carefully, he lifted the blankets from his small frame, trying not to wake his older siblings.

The bed slightly moaned as he turned to drape his feet over the side. The wood was cold, snatching some of his breath as he shifted his weight to his feet.

He turned and tiptoed to the door. The thumping still pounding on the other side.

As light as he tried to move, the house still alerted of his presence. It was old, rickety and untreated. The house had belonged to his grandfather, who got it from his own grandfather. It had been livestock farm at one point, until someone had broken the heart of a witch and a curse had been placed upon it.

No more could the animal's stand on the soil of the property, lest their heart's beat cease with no warning.

The barn, that had once been home to them, fell into a state of disrepair and the weeds around it grew faster than what could be trimmed.

Clark had not known any of this. He only knew that something was stirring in the dark hall.

Thump-ump, thump-ump

Clark softly opened the door. Greeted by a darkness that vaguely sang, he peered into the hall.

Thump-ump, thump-UMP

A hum intruded his mind. A stagnate tone that taunted him. He couldn't investigate the source. It didn't touch his ears.

Thump-ump, THUMP-UMP

He touched his hand to his forehead, feeling a cool drip of water splash against it. His fingers searched but only found his dry skin layered atop his wet skull.

THUMP-UMP

Through the hall's window, light cast it's revealing glare. Revealing to him some sort of floating mass that appeared to be uncooked meat shaped vaguely like a football.

THUMP-UMP

He recalled his surprise to what he had learned in class. That a heart was not the shape that cartoons had suggested. His 4th grade health book had revealed that a heart's true form took the shape of the pulsing mass that was suspended before him.

THUMP

Clark was unsure, still, if he was dreaming. The musty details of the old house were highlighted by the light.

He looked out the window, taking his eyes away from the heart and squinting outside. The window of the barn loft revealed itself as the source of the light. Small, almost hazy, movements were made out just beyond the windows frame.