Moratorium

Madeline lives in a barn

She can't talk and she doesn't have a heart.

She had friends but not so many

They cut her open for the devil's penny.

Sad sad Madeline will not rest

Until her friends have paid the price.

Poor poor Madeline knocks on your door

Into that old barn will you follow her?

“Where did you learn that song?”

Shun ignores my question. He's been fighting that strand of extraordinarily stubborn hair for half an hour. His comb over looks like a shiny helmet, yet that one single strand still hangs right between his brows like a redundant comma.

"Leftover in the fridge." I pat him on the shoulder. Judging from the amount of effort, Bec’s new boyfriend is also gonna be at this party. That whole bottle of hair gel just died for nothing, I want to tell him. But for a 14 year old, "move on" isn't part of his vocabulary.

Shun checks the clock for the twentieth time and finally puts down the comb. He starts humming that song again as he gathers his stuff.

The song about Madeline.

"Where did you learn that song?" I ask again.

"Dunno." He shrugs. "TikTok, probably. It's so catchy."

"Shun," I catch him before he steps out. "I want you to have a good time but we have work tomorrow morning. Remember what you promised and stay away from that barn, hear me?"

He responds with a reassuring smile that belongs to a trustworthy straight-A student.

But I guess a 14 year old has a lot of secrets that his mom wouldn't know.

* * *

Madeline was Madeline Sol before she was, well, “Madeline”.

She spent the first nine years of her life from distant relatives to foster homes, then the rest on the street. Even in the days when every kid was told they could be anything they desired, some kids were only born to make up the population.

The street life could be quite liberating in the summer, but it was never meant to last. Fortunately, in her first winter without a shelter, Madeline found the barn.

It was council property and nobody bothered asking who made the arrangement. Madeline made a home out of those empty cattle cells with everything she had. She lived like a normal kid, for a little while. She even had guests over, for a little while.

The discerning folks in town soon began to ask questions: Where did she get the cash for that gourmet bread? How could she afford fresh apples? What did she have to smile about?

The whole town had a rough idea about what her "living" was. She was feral, poor, mute and not ugly. What else could it be? People shook their heads when they talked about Madeline, although out of different sentiments. When her body was uncovered from underneath the haystack in that barn, with a bloody hollow in the middle of her chest and inexplicable patterns drawn all over her skin, people reacted like they were expecting it. Her life was scripted to be a tragedy from its opening credits. The town knew that all along.

Instead of what happened, people were more interested in why it happened. They put their money on "domestic quarrel"—every man in town seemed to have a juicy story about Madeline after a few drinks, and maybe one of them was true and it got out of hand. They even guessed she was pregnant.

She was a virgin.

I noted that in the coroner's report, then I was asked to remove "unnecessary details".

Madeline died on June 6th, 1993. Nobody went to prison for her murder.

* * *

“What do you want?”

I keep the front door chained and signal Shun to go back to his room.

“Where did you drop Bec you say?” Jordan raises his voice and yells at Shun from the porch.

“He said he didn’t go to the after party.” I stop Jordan’s interrogation.

“Let me talk to the kid!” Jordan yanks the door chain as if he could pull my entire house down with his bare hands. Behind him, Morton and Lou take their hands out of their pockets so they can pounce and bite at Jordan’s first signal.

My eyes meet the grotesque scar covering the back of Jordan’s right hand. He catches my stare and stops yanking, but he wouldn’t let go of the chain.

“Check the barn, Jordan.” I shove the fear in my voice down my throat and hope it bounces back as anger. “You know what day it was.”

Jordan flinches at the sound of the barn. For a moment, this toughest guy in town looks like he’s about to cry. Morton and Lou exchange a look. It was only for a split second but I caught it—the twisted joy in their eyes, knowing that it’s finally their best friend’s turn.

I lift a finger and point at that ominous silhouette hidden under the morning fog. The barn, I repeat. They always end up there.

* * *

In June 1998, Morton’s first born went missing.

We didn’t start looking for him until a week later. Actually, we didn’t really look for him at all. We simply assumed the kid ran away from home, again. Even the discovery of his body was a total accident: Two school kids in town decided to take their underground affair to the next level and the barn seemed to be the perfect spot. In the middle of the action, one of them glanced up and saw a foot hanging mid-air, and further up, a pair of empty eye sockets glaring down at the sin of the passionate young lovers.

Joshua Morton wasn’t the first dead kid of this town, but he was definitely a memorable one. He was given merely 15 years on earth, just like Madeline. They worked it backwards from his state of decomposition and determined that he died somewhere around the 6th of June, just like Madeline.

Three years later, on June 6th, 2001, Lou’s youngest daughter turned 15. She decided to celebrate her blossom into young adulthood by a swim in the dam, and never returned. They sent out a search party immediately and covered every inch along the stream, but the place where they eventually found her was at the bottom of the dry haystack deep inside the barn—the same spot where they discovered Madeline.

Amelia Lou, the captain of the high school swimming team and State champion, drowned with pool water in her lungs, pool water that didn’t match any house in town.

Although three years apart, the mysterious deaths of two 15 year olds caught people’s attention and steered the chain of events to the paranormal direction. The elder residents of the town weren’t so happy being reminded of the unsolved death of a lonely child, but for the young souls, this boring town had finally got its urban legend. People reported seeing Madeline’s ghost on the side of the main street, in the middle of the corn field, even in their own attics. They talked about the abnormal physical conditions they experienced following a visit to the barn, and any fanciful connections that could make them part of the story.

As the centre of the attention that she never received when she was alive, Madeline became an idea about vengeance. She would get the justice this town owed her, no matter how many years had passed.

Then, two months ago, April 2005, Jordan’s daughter Rebecca turned 15.

It was around that time that Jordan removed his proud satanic tattoo from the back of his right hand.

* * *

Jordan’s call for Bec echoes in the barn. He dashes from corner to corner, but keeps a pathetic distance from any spot where he might actually find something. After a round of futile attempts, he gives in and lets his feet take him to the worst moment of his life. Slowly, he moves towards the tractor parked against the southern wall, where he caught a glimpse of a pair of familiar sneakers. Morton and Lou stay close to the gate, watching Jordan disappear behind the tractor while having their separate horrible memories about this place.

Even with the mask covering my face, I can still smell the despair between these walls. For the first time in 12 years, I've stepped back in here.

Well, that was a lie.

I pull my .38 out of my pocket and put a bullet in the back of Morton’s head, then another one through Lou’s temple as he turns around. Execution always drags on in movies, and sometimes they even throw in unnecessary speeches. The truth is, you only have seconds to get the work done.

I hold my breath and move to the deeper end of the barn. No one is behind the tractor except Bec lying face down on her stomach. Jordan must have gone into hiding after hearing the shots, but there's only one entrance, and those windows are way too high for his bloated body.

We used to complain about those windows when we counted the stars, didn't we, Madeline?

The moment I lower my gun, Jordan pounces from the top of the tractor. I fall to the ground but my finger is still on the trigger. I bend my arm backwards before he can grab my wrist and fire twice. The weight on top of me slides off and drops to the side with a thud.

I get back on my feet, towering over Jordan. Both shots caught him in the chest. I add another one through his forehead to stop the twitching of his limbs.

Sad sad Madeline will not rest

Until her friends have paid the price.

Although I'm 12 years late, I've finally got all three of them for you.

Therefore, please stop staring at me in the dark, Maddie.

A sharp pain swims right up my spine from my lower back. I fall to my knees, and this time, I drop the gun.

Rebecca—Bec who's supposed to be dead, pulls the sickle out of my kidney, and opens a second hole in my stomach. Then she pulls it out again and slides it back in between my ribs. She cries and screams as if she's the one being stabbed.

I lift my arm which has become a hundred times heavier and reach for the gun. There's one more bullet in the chamber.

She had friends but not so many

They cut her open for the devil's penny.

A hand picks up the gun in front of my eyes. I recognise those fingers I used to wrap inside my palm, and that jacket I picked out last Christmas. I recognise that dark brown hair with too much gel in it, and the soft voice singing those words, but I do not recognise those eyes.

Shun looks like he’s sleepwalking again. The song flows out of the abyss down his throat. Bec rushes to Shun and hides behind him. Her nails sink deeply into his sleeves but her voice is no longer trembling.

So this is why he came in late last night.

I roll over and lie on my back, so I can have a better look at the gun when it blasts. The idea that it was over now seems utterly laughable. Madeline doesn’t have a heart anymore but she forgets nothing. There’s one more friend to take care of.

“Happy birthday.”

I raise my arm but Shun’s face is out of my reach. It’s three months early but I’d better say it now.

“You will be fine now.” I smile.

Poor poor Madeline knocks on your door

Into that old barn will you follow her?

I guess a 14 year old does have a lot of secrets that his mom wouldn’t know.