Horror Stories

The Barn

I rubbed my hands together, looking around the empty farm, "I just still can't believe my aunt bought this place."

I know," Michael agreed, his eyes darting from the ancient one-room cabin, to the falling apart barn, and back to the dilapidated lean-to in the torn up field that we were standing in, "It's so...rustic."

Michael and I were driving south for my sister's wedding, and decided to stop and check out the farm my aunt had recently purchased in Kentucky.

It wasn't what I was expecting someone who always stayed in five star hotels and was rude waiters when their food wasn't perfect to buy, but I couldn't deny that the property was interesting.

My aunt was renovating the cabin to be more livable, but being the weekend the workmen weren't there and the property would've been empty if it wasn't for Michael and I poking around.

I scanned the "Riding Rules" sign that was still nailed to the fence, "I wonder why the farm shut down."

"Who knows, probably just ran out of money." Michael guessed.

I shivered, the cold air penetrating my flannel shirt. I shouldn't have left my jacket in the car.

"You ready to hit the road babe?" Michael asked, "It's going to get dark soon, and we've still got about three more hours before we reach the hotel."

Agreeing, I laced my fingers through his and we started walking back to his truck that was parked right outside the cabin.

As we walked closer, I stopped almost dead in my tracks.

"Why is the door open?" I asked, "We definitely shut it after we looked inside the cabin."

"I don't know, the wind probably blew it open." He walked up to the door and shut it, "No one's in there, relax."

I still felt on edge, "I remember shutting the door."

"You worry too much," He teased, and kissed my cheek, "Get in the truck babe, its cold."

I sighed. Michael was right, I did worry too much. The inside of the truck was still warm, and I tried to relax as we drove down the long, winding driveway and out of the one way automatic gate.

"I bet you this gate was not here when that cabin was first built." I joked.

Michael smiled, "Yeah that was put in by rich people who don't want their horses stolen."

The GPS told us to go in the opposite direction we came in, and we passed even more gated properties as we drove down the empty street.

"I guess all these farms have gates." Michael chuckled.

"Yeah, makes you wonder what they're trying to keep out," I pondered, "It doesn't seem like a high crime area."

"True," He agreed, "To have crime, you have to have people, and we haven't seen a single one of those in a while."

As we drove down the road, there were more and more trees on each side, until you could barely see through them. A flash of silver caught my eye.

"Whoa, what's that?" I asked.

Michael slowed, "Those look like old trailers."

He was right. Just beyond the trees was a field, with three or four trailer homes surrounding a huge pile of wood.

"That's kind of creepy," I stated, "Holy shit slow down!"

Michael slammed the brakes. Almost hidden by the trees, just a few yards ahead, a man was standing and staring at us. Had it been any darker, we probably would have missed him.