Millie with all the freckles

It’s the smell that finally breaks me. I could handle seeing the old place again, and the creak of the ancient hinges as I forced open the doors – I could even handle stepping inside. But one deep breath is enough to bring it all back.

The dank, musty air.

The rot of the crumbling beams.

That faint, lingering hint of manure, even after all this time.

All of it is so familiar, yet so strange. A part of myself I locked away all those years ago is suddenly awake again, just like that.

I’m no longer Michael, happily married father of three. I’m little Mikey, twelve years old, with muddy knees and hair full of hay.

My suit has never felt more like a costume. It’s as though I’m playing dress up, pretending to be something I’m not. My tie feels like it’s choking me, so I pull it off and drape it over the nearest rail. I leave my jacket and shoes there too. They belong to someone else, some distant vision of a man I hardly recognise.

This is my playground. Or it was, once.

That strange sick feeling is rising in my stomach, sort of like dread. Can you dread something that happened thirty years ago?

I pace slowly deeper into the barn, drinking it all in.

There’s the old hayloft I used to patrol like battlements.

There’s the skylight, where I pointed out shapes in the clouds to Millie with all the freckles from down the road.

And there’s the empty stall in the corner, where she gave me my first kiss.

The sick feeling reaches my throat. There’s one part of the barn I haven’t looked at yet – where I’ve been desperately avoiding looking. But my feet have carried me here anyway. I’ve been drawn back to the place I swore I’d never return to.

You can only run away for so long.

I force myself to look down. It doesn’t look like much, especially after all this time. The floorboards are covered in dust, dirt and scattered leaves. Like the floor of any abandoned barn.

It wasn’t much different back then, of course – just a little cleaner. I’m not sure I’d ever have discovered what lay beneath if it wasn’t for Millie.

If only I hadn’t tried to impress her.

Memories I’ve tried to suppress for so long replay vividly now, as though they’re happening all over again in front of me.

There I am – skinnier than I ever remember being – chasing Millie between the stalls without a care in the world.

And there she is, her freckled face glowing with mischief, laughing and jumping out of my reach. So full of joy. So full of life. My eyes brim with tears as I watch her.

She says something to the boy who used to be me, long forgotten words I can no longer hear. The only sound left is her laughter. But then her lips form three words I can still read as clear as anything:

I dare you.

And like an idiot, skinny little me scrambles up the ladder to the hayloft. He only hesitates for a moment at the edge, chest puffed up with fake pride, then I watch him leap in slow motion towards the mound of hay on the other side of the barn.

He almost makes it. As he bounces off the side of the hay and tumbles backwards onto the floor there’s a sharp crack, and Millie runs over, full of concern.

But young me is just a bit bruised, and the two figures laugh together in relief.

I find myself calling out, trying to catch their attention. Anything to distract them. Anything to stop them turning around.

Because they haven’t noticed yet. They haven’t spotted the plank that made the cracking sound as it dislodged – haven’t spotted the hollow underneath.

For one perfect moment in time, they could just walk away and leave the barn.

‘Get out!’ I’m shouting. I’m actually shouting. ‘Go! Just get out of here!’

I almost believe they might hear me. That this time it might be different. But ghosts are just ghosts and you can’t change the past.

My younger self points out the gap in the floor as he always did, and the two little figures huddle over it, their faces lit up with excitement.

I can all too vividly remember my delight in that moment – I genuinely believed we might have stumbled across the start of some thrilling adventure.

‘Please!’ I beg, but it’s still no use.

The two ghosts carry on, blissfully oblivious, and disappear down through the gap out of sight. I’m alone again.

The barn is suddenly still. Silent. It’s never felt so empty.

I know I should turn around and leave, as I should have all those years ago. A distant voice on the edge of hearing is begging me to get out, like I’m just another ghost, reliving the same mistakes over and over again. Perhaps if I looked back over my shoulder I’d see yet another version of myself, even older, screaming for me to run out the door.

But something else is calling to me. Something silent, but somehow all the louder for it. A simple thought drowning out all others: I can’t leave yet. I have to see this through.

So I take a deep breath, and wrench my resisting body towards the floorboard that I know will still be loose. It’s easy to lever out. One touch and it almost leaps into my fingertips.

There’s no light in the dust and the cobwebs below. The dim daylight from the gap above barely adds a few shadows near my feet. The darkness draws in around me, suffocating, like it’s wrapping around my throat.

But they’re only shadows. I plunge blindly into the gloom.

As I walk, light seems to filter in around me. Is it real, or just another memory? The glow feels somehow hazy. Like a dream.

And sure enough, here are the other ghosts again – they startle me as they run past. Millie and me, hand in hand. My heart aches at the sight of them.

They’ve already spotted it. The well. The crumbling stone circle on the far side of the basement.

‘Don’t –’ I cry out on instinct, but the two of them are already rushing towards it.

How could they not? I try to keep my distance but the well draws me closer too, like my feet are moving of their own accord. Before I know it I’m alongside the two ghostly figures, watching as they lean eagerly over the sides.

My younger self is transfixed by the sight of that deep, dark pit. The unknowable darkness, stretching down seemingly forever.

He looks so excited. So happy. This moment of joy will haunt his nightmares forever.

I force myself to look down there too. It’s exactly how I remember it. How many times have I woken up in a cold sweat from the memory of this view? To that terrible voice, echoing up from far below?

I half expect it to fill the air now, but this isn’t my nightmare. The only sounds in reality are gentle clatters, as the young ghosts take turns dropping stones into the dark. They bounce off the sides, but we never hear them land.

It’s a long way down.

My stomach convulses as my past self spots the rope dangling down one side of the well. I can see the idea forming behind his eyes. This is it.

I’m both sick and breathless as he shows it to Millie. As he prepares to say those three terrible words.

This time I can hear them:

‘I dare you.’

I feel dizzy. The world is ending, but the ghosts just carry on as though everything’s one big joke, laughing as Millie climbs up onto the crumbling stone.

‘Please –’ I’m shouting again, but I have to try something. ‘Please stop!’

Nothing. Millie takes the rope in her hands and leans over the edge.

‘Don’t do it Millie!’

She hesitates. She actually hesitates. She looks around, almost like she can hear something. Like she’s confused.

Did she always do this? Cruel hope rises and I scream louder than ever, begging and pleading with her to think again and turn back.

But the moment is gone. My ghost goads her on, and I watch through tears as Millie starts to climb down the rope.

‘No!’

A sudden madness grips me and I lunge try and pull her back, but as my fingers reach the rope it snaps.

Millie’s eyes widen in horror. She claws madly at the air, trying to grip hold of something – anything – but there’s nothing to grab.

Her pale eyes meet mine one last time, then she vanishes down into darkness with a piercing scream.

Oh god, that scream. It trails behind her, echoing louder than anything, a guttural shriek of sheer terror.

It never ends. It just gradually fades out of hearing.

I collapse to my knees, desperately trying to catch my breath. I can’t bring myself to watch my younger self as he panics and calls down the shaft.

As he begs. As he pleads.

As he runs away.

My stomach twists at his final words: ‘I’ll come back for you, I promise.’

But he never will. He’ll never come back to this barn again. It will haunt his every sleep, but he’ll never have the guts to return.

Not until he’s someone else.

He’ll just let the grown-ups sort it out. Hide away and bury the memory deep. Pretend you never existed.

Then one day far off in the future, some old man might have the urge to visit this barn. Some stranger in a suit. Maybe he’ll have the courage to come back inside – maybe he’ll even look down the well.

Maybe he’ll remember you properly for the first time in thirty years. The real you, not that appalling, monstrous voice from his dreams.

‘Mikey?’

My whole body freezes. There it is. The voice. Like Millie but something else entirely.

‘Is that you Mikey?’

A chill runs over my skin. I try to stand, but I can’t move. A terror like I’ve never experienced before has gripped hold of me. This can’t be real. The voice was only ever a dream.

‘You never came back for me, Mikey.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I hear myself say. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You promised.’

The voice is coming from down the well. How can it be coming out of the well?

I shake myself, try to wake myself up, but the voice keeps coming.

‘Are you going to save me, Mikey?’

I finally manage to stand. Trembling, I look down over the edge of the stone circle.

It’s empty. A surge of relief washes over me: I must be imagining things. But then –

‘I miss you, Mikey.’

The voice is louder now, like it’s getting closer. I want to run, want to flee the barn all over again, but my body refuses to move.

‘Don’t leave me again.’

She almost sounds like Millie now. The real Millie.

And then I see it. Movement. Something stirring in the darkness.

‘Help me, Mikey.’

An arm reaches up and grips the stone. I recoil, but it’s just a normal arm. A girl’s arm, covered in freckles.

I watch, mouth agape, as a face emerges from the shadows.

It’s Millie. My Millie. She looks exactly like she did all those years ago.

Her eyes meet mine, imploring.

‘I can’t do it without you, Mikey.’

I hesitate, but how can I leave her again?

‘You can still save me. Just take my hand.’

I reach down towards her.

My fingers are about to close on her arm when her hand snatches my wrist, claw-like nails digging into my skin.

Her face contorts, terrible and triumphant.

‘Go on,’ she snarls. ‘I dare you.’

She tugs with extraordinary strength.

We plunge down into darkness. Together again.