The Barn

“The distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion." ~ Albert Einstein

Dr Bey: Okay, tell me what you see in this recovered memory??

“I’m home. I’m a kid again.”

“Okay, now tell me anything that comes up for you.”

“It’s summer. I think it’s the 4th of July. Yeah, it’s the 4th”.

“Do you want to tell me what’s happening?” Dr Bey asked in a sincere but interested tone.

“Sure. It’s more of a story. Well, it feels like that. I’m feeling like I have something to show but also to see. Is that ok?”

“Absolutely! You can describe it how you feel comfortable. There is no wrong way to do this. Let’s begin when you’re ready.”

Okay:

The Barn used to be a military camp in the 1930s. It was supposedly home to a clandestine government program. Top secret. It was so steeped in secrecy that it was above a need to know basis. It was the highest clearance. Plausible deniability. Apparently only the directors and the lead scientific staff knew what was really happening. The support staff didn’t know exactly what their work was contributing to or what it was for. They just knew what their duties were, what they entailed and they knew to keep their mouths shut… But it was eventually uncovered. It wasn’t uncovered publicly but by Congress. A committee caught wind of it decades later through a happenstance audit. The devil really is in thr details. There wasn’t much hullabaloo about it because it had long been abandoned by then. It was never publicly exposed either. There was neither a select committee nor an investigation or volumes a la Warren Report. This project was only known by a few archivists who happened upon the files and subsequently forwarded it to the clandestine scientific studies division. It was so out there that they couldn’t make any sense of the data at all. They dismissed it as the endeavors of a crazy bygone era.

What they didn’t realize was that era DIDN'T disappear. It was still there. Well it was but it wasn’t. It wasn’t actually there but something of it was left. And when whatever confounding factors or stars aligned, that something made itself known. And it left its mark. It left it on the whole area. There was an energetic residue left there.

And although that time might appear to be forgotten; it had become known to us. And not only was it known, it was a key to us. It unlocked a door hiving us a glimpse into another time.. it was TIME… And Time??? Time. Wasn’t. What. We. Thought. It isn’t. Wasn’t and isn’t are both different sides of a relative coin. Time wasn’t we thought. We were too young to understand but instinctively and intuitively we knew. We couldn’t explain it but we knew. We experienced the illusion. And for a long time, that experience had become to locked away to me until today. That incident really was a key—a key that was locking and unlocking things in the same reality at the same time; yet it was in a different space.

On the edge of town in what we called The Fields sat an old brick red barn.. For the longest we just ignored it. All the adults warned us to stay away from it and we did. For a long time, we obeyed. BUT then it began to peak our curiosity. They were too adamant. It would’ve been better had they just said nothing because that was just an invitation to us. They put it on our radar. It had become an invitation to adventure and taboo: Don’t eat the fruit or you’ll surely die. Don’t tell us not to eat the fruit. Everyone knows that now. That was our fruit & we ate it. It used to be unincorporated territory owned by the government. They eventually turned it into a military camp and not a base like I said before. It was home to a secret so sacred that it didn’t even have a name. I guess it was like Area 51 before there was an Area 51. For us, it was a cool place to explore…. it was our hideout.

We had no idea what happened there & what continued to happen there for that matter. For us, it just had a mysterious vibe and that attracted us. It was forbidden and that allured us. We would go there and just play for hours. The hours would just fly by. But the funny thing is, in there, it didn’t seem long at all. It was almost like we lost time or were lost in time while in there. We were kids; we didn’t know. But kids may not know but they certainly feel. We felt. And we played. We just played and we lived. We explored and we felt. But for some reason, the adults didn’t like it.

Everytime they discovered we were at the barn, we’d have hell to pay.. Our grandfather would threaten to “take a switch to us”.. We risked it all for that barn—the whipping didn’t matter because that’s where we escaped.. Funnily, he wouldn’t whip us. He was bluffing. He’d just fuss and tell us “stay from back there.”

It was an escape, though. So many days we were in another world. We really felt like we were beyond our imagination. We were in another world, until one day, well, we were.

It was July 4, 1987. We were excited for the cookout and Uncle Leo Dave had a truckload of fire works. We called him Uncle LD. We woke up early that day, hyped for the planned festivities later on. It was a Saturday. And Saturdays were reserved for our chores but we cleaned up earlier in the week because Mama was anticipating the company for the holiday. Thus, we had free reign and hours to kill… to do exactly what our little hearts desired— within reason of course. So we got dressed and headed to the Fields on the edge of town. We were headed to The Barn.

As we headed out the door, we heard a raspy drawl. It was our next door neighbor Friar Len. He was outside lecturing us again. Old Friar Len. Well, that’s what the adults called him. So we called him that too. They said he used to be a priest back in the day. But apparently he left the priesthood to marry. My great Uncle Floyd said he wasn’t even Catholic and called him a fake priest.

He’d say: “Leonard is a draft dodger! He he just joined the brothers to avoid the draft.”

I don’t know about all that but all of my Great Uncles served that summer.. Well they got drafted that summer. And apparently Friar Len was in school with them, too. And eventually everyone found themselves on the port of Da Nang or in Charlie Company except Friar Len. And it seemed like they took issue with that. No, they didn’t take issue. They downright resented that and I guess him too. But he was an alright man to us. He’s just a nagger we thought. He doesn’t seem like a priest though. He doesn’t even seem like a neighborhood preacher. We didn’t get holy vibes from Friar Len. We got principal vibes. He just seemed kike he always had a command and a lesson. Hmmm, maybe that is a preacher’s vibe. Anyhow, he was alright as long as you didn’t mess with his Tudor rose bushes. He was serious about that. “Stay away from my roses. Those are Tudor roses.”

We know, we know. We interrupted in unison: “ My wife planted that rose bush… Yes sir! Yes sir!”

Yes, Friar Len is married. He left the brothers to marry his high school sweetheart. She doesn’t come out anymore. She had a stroke. He looked at us suspiciously as we shouted playfully: Happy 4th, Friar Len.”

He shouted: Where are y’all going?? I hope y’all aren’t off to that barn. We know more about it! Y’all don’t know what you’re getting into it. Y’all don’t know what happened there?? Stay away from that place.”

Jameson, my older brother, shouted: We are just killing time, Father. We aren’t bothering anyone. We will be back in an hour.”

“You’ll get lost in that barn. You don’t understand. Stay out of that piece of property!” Yelled Friar Len from his porch.

“Piece of property?!” We mocked him and laughed.

We headed to the Fields & made our way through the old silo fence and proceeded toward our fort. Jameson wore his new digital watch he got for a birthday gift in June. He wore that watch religiously. He wore it every where and he was always pressing buttons. Setting alarms. It had a compass too. It had a stop watch and all of that. He kept us on the straight and narrow with that thing.

“It’s 11 am; so we’ve got an hour and a half to get a good game going. Dad’s going to start barbecuing at noon. I’m gonna set my watch (of course he is) so we won’t be late.”

We all thought that was a good idea. And we headed across the open lot toward the barn. It was three of us siblings: Me, Jameson, Chrissy & our cousins were with us: Alvin, Alex & Jeremy. It was 6 of us altogether. They stayed the night because of the holiday.

As we approached the barn, something was different. It seemed off. But we kept walking. The barn was old. I mean over 50 years old—so the latches were hanging and the wood made a loud creaking sound normally. There was even a hole in the roof. It wa perfect for sky watching. But today, today something was very different. We didn’t know what was different BUT we felt it.

Jameson was the oldest and he said: Wait a minute. Someone fixed the locks. When did they do that??”

We shrugged and continued following him. He lead us and walked through. His watch began to beep. He started pressing buttons and kept walking. All of a sudden, the barn was like new again. And it wasn’t a barn at all. We immediately were frightened. We stopped in our tracks.

“What’s going on???” And where are the table and the crates??” Alvin asked.

We drugged an old table and set up crates in there to jump off of and to “have meetings”… But they were gone. Nothing was the same.

Jameson stopped and said: I don’t know what’s happening. Someone else has been here.

His watch kept beeping the whole time we were there convening. I mean it was a rapid fire beep like a timer. But it was reading: 0:00. We knew that because Jameson said it.

We turned toward the old wooden doors but they were gone, too. Gone. Now we appeared to be in a room within the barn. It’s like it just materialized around us. A room with a big green door and a lot of machines. It was cold too. Big machines with a lot of lights were everywhere. And they were really quiet with dozens of different color lights. And there were these two large antennas in the floor. They looked like Tesla coils but to a bunch of kids it was more like those lightning machines from the Frankenstein movies. So odd. They looked like they were a part of the floor.

Dr Bey stared at me attentively as I continued.

Well, we’re now in a room. But we walked into The Barn… our barn. How did we get here???

We looked at each other and started to panic. Where are we??? How…. what happened to the barn??? Jameson’s watch began to go haywire again. I started getting really scared. I think we were all too afraid to talk. We were just baffled yet paralyzed with fear. All you could hear was the watch beeping: Beep, beep, beep…. And then silence….

“The watch keeps reading 0:00.” James said whispering trying to silence it.

Despite the beeps, there was a deafening silence and darkness all around us except for the flashing lights.

And that deafening silence was soon interrupted by what sounded like a man’s voice… it was a man’s voice:

“What’s that beeping sound??? I think it’s coming from the control room..”

Who’s that??? Control room???? What??? Where are we???How could we be hearing a man’s voice??? Nobody’s supposed to be here. And what’s this control room & this place?

We began to run in the direction of where the barn doors were and all of a sudden that voice was now in front of us. It belonged to a tall man with dark hair and thick rimmed glasses. He looked like a professor, too. Kind of like Friar Len but he was White. But at this moment, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. He froze. And we froze too. It was like two different species encountering each other for the first time. We looked him up and down like an exhibit and he did the same… We were all surprised to see each other. Jameson reanimated first, jumped in front of us and pushed us all back. His silent energy and authority met that stranger’s energy and it must’ve subdued him. Because the man took two steps back and finally spoke:

What are you kids doing in here??? How did you get here??? Where did you come from?? There aren’t any houses within 50 miles of this installation?!” he said anxiously.

Not another town for miles??? We lived six blocks away. The Black neighborhood was on the edge of town. That’s where we all lived. We all looked at each other and turned back to him. None of us answered him, not even Jameson.

The man spoke again but his bewilderment & curiosity must’ve subdued any type of authority he tried to muster.. He just kept staring at us up and down… Bewildered. Shocked. His eyes scanned all of us from head to toe…His mouth agape, fixated on our faces. He changed his tone. And asked:

Can you all hear me??? Do you all speak English? Are you Negroes? Where did you come from? When did you come from??? Can you understand me?? Did you all come through those Tesla coils??? What are those clothes??? Those fabrics.

We just looked at him and we looked at each other. Of course we’re Black and yes we speak English. We could understand him.. I chuckled to myself. But quickly refocused and kept staring.

His curiosity was getting the best of him because he kept belting out questions—finally he desperately shouted: From when did you come??? What day is it??? What year??? Hey, hey!!! Kids!

Then those Tesla coils he was talking about lit up and there was a loud cracking sound. Something happened because the old farm doors reappeared. We all bolted quickly toward the doors to make a run for it.

The man’s face turned to stone as the old doors rapidly appeared. He looked around his side of the room frantically . It seemed as if there was now a screen between us. He was right there but his voice seemed so far away. We couldn’t hear him as clearly. We held the barn doors open and we looked back to make sure we weren’t hallucinating. He was still there but he began fade. He had become more and more inaudible. He was yelling something.

He shouted: “What year and day is it??? Please!!!”

I heard him. I stopped and yelled: July 4, 1987. I could still see him. I wondered if he’d heard me. Jameson hustled us out as the man began to fade away.

We never saw him again. And believe it or not, we never talked about that incident. We didn’t make a pact or an agreement. We just didn’t talk about it. Ten minutes seemed to have turned into a lifetime. And apparently two hours had passed. We never talked about it. And we never went back to that brick red barn with the open roof.. It was no longer our barn. That’s when it came became: The Barn forever. It was somebody’s after all. And they never left. Friar Len was right.

Dr Bey’s and I stared intently in each other’s eyes as I finished. I looked out the window and said: Friar Len was right.

C. M. Norwood