Isabella

If you take a left off Turner Street, follow that down past the broken wheelbarrow that has stood through the turn of the endless seasons and roll your car to the barn at the edge, where two streets split into a straight cross you might see it. The barn. Faded in colour, splintering wood, and cold drafts icy enough to slice right through your skin, it stands. Once a vibrant red, the barn became but a memory of what it once was in all its splendour. Housing only broken things and cover for the many rodents and spider's webs that nest in its eaves no one knows who the barn belongs to. It isn't attached to any property or farmer. Despite its isolation, no spray paint colours its walls. No damage done to its insides. As if it isn't really there in the first place, like the thought of hurting it would be to think about it- something people around this part of the countryside simply didn't do, so the barn stood. Some say the barn stood at the crossing, detailing to great lengths; others said they had never heard or seen of such a barn. To some it existed, to others; it remained an urban legend, a mystery of conversation.

Undisturbed. The barn was waiting. For the right time. The right person to come through its doors. To find the woman who had sat waiting in her slumbers all these years. With three questions to ask and three answers to be had. Soon, the barn wouldn't be alone.

Isabella was on holiday visiting her grandmother, who owned a horse ranch on acres of land. Knowing the land to be safe, her parents urged her to walk the roads, giving her a small film camera to capture anything that struck her eye. After an hour of walking, Isabella came across the barn, or rather the barn came across her. A stiff cold breeze with threatening clouds of sharp rain that Isabella swore hadn't been there five minutes ago drove her to find safety behind its doors. Pushing easily on the worn red doors, Isabella expected them to groan in protest; instead, they swung open like butter had been wiped along their frames. Closing the world out just as the rain came, Isabella held her camera close, worried she might drop it in the darkness.

Straining to see the inside of the barn, Isabella could make out that it laid bare, old stalls that used to house livestock remained empty- the beams above housing only dust and spiders. A long wooden work table stood at the back of the barn, something at its centre. Walking closer, the silhouette of the object grew a flame. A candle rose in white at the table. Under normal circumstances, Isabella would have been scared of such peculiarity, but despite what she saw, her body calmed her, telling her there was nothing to fear. A soft voice echoed out of the darkness, the voice of a woman.

'So, you're the one I've been waiting for.' Pulling herself free from the trappings of the spiderwebs and dust that bound her to the walls, the woman shook herself free from their entanglement. 'My apologies, I must look quite the state.'

With tight curls of white that flowed from her hair, the woman brushed her long thin fingers over her tight green dress, removing the debris at once. It fell from her like it had never existed- falling away to the darkness that swept the barn. Settling her grey eyes on Isabella, the woman took a seat in front of the candle; noticing a small chair that Isabella sworn hadn't been there seconds ago, the woman motioned for her to sit.

'Where am I?' Isabella managed, having to push the words out at what she had just seen.

'The barn, of course, well, not just any old barn. But one of many.'

'And why are you here?'

'I could ask the same about you; after all, you came inside. I was already here.' Her grey eyes settled on her, a thin smile played on her lips. 'Anyway, I'm being rude, you asked me a fair question it's only right you should get a fair answer in return. My name is Aradia, and I've been in this barn for as long as I can remember.'

'Can you leave? I mean, surely you haven't been here your whole life.'

'Memory is the only life we have, and that's all I have is of this place and well, one other. They left me here for a purpose, to help those that found me.' Aradia almost spat the word they, a look of disgust flashed briefly in her eyes only for the warmth of her smile to return to her eyes.

'So, you're going to help me?'

'Yes, that is if you can answer the questions I have.'

'What do I get if I answer them correctly?'

The woman smiled, her bright eyes unblinking. 'You get a prize.'

'What kind of prize?'

'A prize in the form of a wish, but with certain…conditions.'

'Conditions?'

'You can request one thing, one thing, but it must not involve the elements of fire, earth, air, water, or greed. The wish cannot be selfish; you cannot own it; it must be for someone else. Someone unknown to you.'

'That's a lot of conditions.'

'If you have somewhere else you'd rather be.' The woman motioned to the barn doors.

'No, no, I want to stay.'

The woman smiled again, 'Of course, you want to see this through. I knew as soon as you walked through that door. Come, I need you closer.'

'I shouldn't trust strangers.'

'No, you definitely shouldn't, dear girl, albeit I am a little strange, I am no harm to you. You've got my promise on that; harming children is a dangerous business. One I've never thought kindly of, do you trust me?'

Isabella focused on the flicker of the white candle; the situation she found herself in certainly was peculiar, but she didn't feel like the woman wished her any harm. 'For now, I guess I do.'

'Excellent, we should start with the questions. Of which I have three - if you answer them to my satisfaction, you get your prize.'

'A wish.'

'Indeed.'

The candle's flame burnt a dull blue, lighting up the woman's eyes with a fierceness that made it hard for Isabella to look anywhere but at her. 'My first question.' At the command of the woman's voice, the flame turned into an almost white grey. 'A woman drops her purse- you pick it up, and inside are hundreds of bills. The most money you've ever seen. What do you do with it?'

Isabella thought about the question a moment, what adults would expect from her and what she would actually do if given the option. 'Is the woman a nice person?'

'You'll never know; you don't see her again.'

'Does she have pictures of kids in her bag?'

'Would that matter to you?'

'Yes, it would.'

'She doesn't have any pictures of her kids, but that doesn't necessarily mean she doesn't have any.'

'What else is in her bag?'

'The wallet filled with cash and nothing else.'

'Why doesn't she have other stuff?'

Instead of growing tired of her questions, Aradia seemed to appreciate Isabella's curiosity. 'It's a new bag; she was in a rush, only being able to put a credit card and driver's license in a new wallet in the bag.'

Isabella thought for a moment, seeming to decide on her answer. 'I'd give it to the police and hoped they did the right thing.'

With her answer spoken, the flame flickered like a light into lime green, 'If I could harm the last person that hurt you would you want me to?'

'Harm as in kill?'

'Hurt.'

'I thought you said you didn't harm children.'

Aradia grinned, a set of flat square teeth shone across the flame. 'It depends on who it is; exceptions can be made.'

Closing her eyes, Isabella didn't see a child but the shrill call of her mother, rough against her ears. Spittle flying from her mouth. Redden cheeks. Flat palms held upwards. Ready to strike. 'No.' Isabella started, coming back to herself. 'No, I wouldn't want you to.'

'Last question. What last action you caused had a consequence you didn't want?'

Isabella thought for a moment, finding only the sharp cut of her mother come to mind. 'I didn't say something when I should have.' The flicker of the candle returned to its grey flame, Aradia's focus remained only on her. 'I didn't tell my father how my mother treats me when he isn't there; it's like she hates me sometimes. And now I'm stuck with how things are because I didn't say-.' Isabella's voice broke down into tears, slumping forward, her hands covering her eyes; she saw only the anger her mother had become.

'Things will not always be like this child.'

A black and white trimmed handkerchief appeared beside Isabella's small hand, 'Wipe your tears, dear girl. Your wish can be granted.'

Wiping her eyes, Isabella set the handkerchief down; it disappeared into the shadow of the barn. 'What did you mean when you said you'd been waiting for me?'

Aradia ran her fingertips through the flame, remaining untouched from the burn of the fire, 'To certain people, this barn appears, and only certain people can ever enter its doors.'

'So, I'm special? If I can see it?'

'You are, in many ways, Isabella.' A warm smile lit up her face, 'So what wish have you decided on? You must be careful now. A wish. One as true as this is a dangerous thing to have.'

Regarding the woman across the flame, her wish was simple, one that came to her as soon as Aradia laid out her conditions. 'I wish.' She began; Aradia leaned closer to her words. 'For you to be free from this barn.'

A look of pure terror dampened Aradia's face as the barn began to shook; the long wooden beams came crashing down around them. Hitting the candle from the table, she reached for Isabella, cradling in her arms with surprising strength; she ran to the barn doors and out into the light. They watched as the barn folded in on itself, explosions of cracked wood and dust filled the air, until below the grass, it fell into the earth. Reaching for her camera, Isabella snapped a photo of the barn and the woman, her white hair transforming into the rich black of a much younger woman. Weaving together like moving carpet, the grass met, leaving not even a dent in the ground that something else had ever belonged to the land.

'Dear girl, thank you, thank you.' Leaning down, she kissed Isabella with a soft touch of affection. 'And don't you worry about that mother of yours; let's just say she'll be kinder to you from now on.' Making sure she knew the way back, Isabella watched as the woman chained to a barn walked free; travelling down the road, a wedge of sunlight shone through her hair. Isabella stood a long while looking after her, wondering how if ever she could explain to someone what had just happened.

Years later, Isabella found the old film camera like a forgotten memory at the back of a drawer, taking the roll of film to be developed; she waited until she got home to go through the photos. Most captured the countryside, rolling hills, empty roads, rusted tractors. It was the last shot that left Isabella in disbelieve, the photo of a barn falling with the mysterious air of a woman watching it fall.

Isabella had been back to the same spot years later to find nothing of the barn or of its stories in town- like it never existed in the first place, but now Isabella knew that she had been right all along.