The Farmhouse

Part One

In the countryside far east of a small town in Kansas lived a small family residing in a large, aged farmhouse. Built-in 1905, the house stood an imposing two stories tall, casting a long shadow in the morning and evening sun.

The exterior consisted of rusted and worn-down siding, the white paint aging to yellow. The lower level contained a spacious living room connected to a large farm-style kitchen and a sitting room converted into a master bedroom. The second floor had three small bedrooms and a bathroom. Aside from the barn and detached garage, the farmhouse stood surrounded by acres of corn and wheat fields, with the nearest neighbors half a mile away down a dusty gravel road.

The family that purchased the farmhouse in 1980 was small. The father was often away from home, working two jobs to make ends meet. The mother, Beth, stayed at home. She was responsible for the farm work and taking care of her daughter. She appeared to be no more than thirty, with no remarkable features. Her brown wavy hair hung in a low, messy bun with visible gray streaks throughout. She had dark circles under her eyes and natural blemishes around her face. Her hands were rough, with calluses on her palms and uneven fingernails from gardening.

Out of all the farm chores, she held gardening as the highest priority. Every day, she would go out to water, pull weeds, pick vegetables, and fertilize; she never missed a day. She had grown an abundance of vegetables such as tomatoes, zucchini, rhubarb, and many more. As the temperature began to drop and the trees started to shed their colorful leaves, Beth would prep her kitchen for winter. Using the vegetables left in her garden, she would slice, dice, or chop them up to be placed in metal cans. The cans of vegetables would fill the cabinets and ensure warm cooked meals for the bitter cold days ahead.

Her daughter, at the prime age of five, had a year left before she began kindergarten. She had wavy, blonde hair that always ended up in a tangled mess. She had a bright smile and a creative imagination. She would spend hours playing in her room on the second floor. She played generously with a handcrafted doll house and listened to records from her mother's record player. Beth would pause by the bottom of the stairs during the day to eavesdrop on her daughter's new daily story. She would giggle, shake her head, and say, "What will she think of next?".

Beth prepared lunch on a brisk fall day. She heard the birds chirping and wind chimes blowing in the wind. As much as she enjoyed her secluded life, she would find uncomfortable silences in the farmhouse. She heard the sounds of falling leaves and cracking branches echoing through her home. Luckily, these silences were filled by the laughter and chattering of her daughter in her room. She would get a warm feeling of happiness and loved to hear her daughter happy.

"Aubrey! Come downstairs! It is time for lunch!" Beth yelled, her voice echoing through the house.

"Coming!" She replied, placing her dolls neatly before leaving her room. Beth smiled as she watched her daughter hop down the stairs, which appeared bigger than her size.

"You sounded busy upstairs. What is on your creative little mind today?" Beth chuckled while watching her daughter pull her petite body onto the chair.

"Well, today there is a princess and a dragon," Aubrey said, picking up the sandwich with her tiny fingers, "and the prince is fighting the dragon."

"That dragon sounds fierce. Will the prince defeat it?" Beth asked, seeming intrigued by her daughter's pretend story.

"Yes, he does," Aubrey said confidently before biting into the sandwich.

Beth was delighted that her daughter found joy in playing pretend, but she could not push down the thought of loneliness. Aubrey had rarely interacted with other children because of where they resided. Beth had felt guilty for not occupying the small town ten miles away. She thought she stripped away Aubrey's chance at social interaction for her toddler years. Beth's mother reassured her concerns by saying, "She'll have many opportunities to make friends in school. Don't you worry."

Beth watched her daughter finish the last few bites of her lunch and thought of a way to fix her worry. She remembered her high school friend who lived only 10 miles away, and she, too, had a daughter Aubrey's age.

"You know," Beth started with a calming voice as she grabbed Aubrey's empty plate, "I have a friend who has a daughter, too. I could always call her up and ask for the two of you to play."

"No, I'm good," Aubrey said with a comforting smile, jumping from her chair.

"But wouldn't it be nice to have at least one friend to play with instead of playing alone?" Beth questioned worriedly, placing the emptied dishes in the sink.

"But I'm not alone," Aubrey said, grabbing a step stool and placing it in front of the sink to help Beth with the dishes.

"You're not?" Beth said, giving her a questioning glance.

"Yes, Richard and Edgar, remember?" Aubrey said before grabbing a wet towel and scrubbing her plate.

"Oh, right. Richard and Edgar. I had forgotten." Beth sighed. Aubrey had talked about her new friends, Richard and Edgar, for the last few months. Not wanting to inhibit her daughter's imagination, Beth had not thought much of it and accepted it.

Many children her age had imaginary friends. Beth had even remembered her mother telling her she had some too. Aubrey said her friends were two little boys, Richard, eight, and Edgar, five. From her descriptions, Beth had the impression that they were kindhearted and had no deceitful intentions. These imaginary friends had improved Aubrey's emotions and entertained her since meeting them.

As the sun moved across the sky, Beth continued to fill her cabinets with cans of her garden vegetables. She heard leaves rustling through the open windows in the cool breeze. As she sealed a can in her hand, she listened to the sounds of thumping and giggling from upstairs.

Curious of her daughter's play, she set the can on the counter and tiptoed to the bottom of the staircase. She smiled as she listened to what sounded like a prince fighting a dragon, as Aubrey detailed. Her smile faded when she heard another voice. This voice was hollow, quavering, and childlike compared to her daughter's bright and animated one. Then chimed in another quavering voice, almost as a response to the first. "That's a good idea," Aubrey replied, and the three voices giggled together.

Beth was shocked and confused. She began to question her sanity and process the occurrence. No one else was in the house besides her and Aubrey, and her husband was gone at work. She started to reason that it was her old record player. Aubrey loved listening to music and might have turned the volume down. But they were children's voices, she thought, placing her hand on her forehead for a possible fever. There was no burning sensation.

As she paced the master bedroom, she started to believe that she was going insane. Her mind then landed on the only possible reason: ghosts. The word sounded crazy to her. Beth never believed in ghosts; she viewed them as stories meant to scare children, not as if they existed. Taking a deep breath and shaking her head, she calmly said, "Nope, that's crazy. Ghosts don't exist. I must be tired." She continued her tasks to erase the thought.