The Girl in the Old Red Barn

When I had just turned seven, my grandfather passed, leaving my mother his farm. I remember the day we moved there so vividly. It was the peak of summer, my father's shirt was soaked in sweat, but he was too busy carrying in boxes to notice, while my mother was inside directing my father and uncles where to put everything. I wanted to help my father but he said I was in the way, and sent me to play with our golden retriever, Mango. I took Mango to the pond that was to the right of the property next to an old red barn. We walked along the pond looking for frogs, but instead found an old tennis ball. I picked it up and tried to wipe away the mud that coated the ball.

“Daniel, stay outta that pond!” My mother shouted from the porch.

“Yes, ma’am.” I yelled back. As I held the ball in my hand Mango pranced with excitement. I noticed her and laughed, "Go get it!" I exclaimed as I threw the ball away from the pond.

Mango chased after it. It hit the ground, barely missing the barn. I waited for Mango to bring it back, but instead she walked past the ball and entered the barn through a large hole in the wood.

I ran to the hole and bent down, "Mango!" I called out, "Mango, come back!"

I waited another moment before crawling through the hole and into the barn after her. I crawled through slowly, it was dark inside with a limited amount of sunshine coming through the cracks in the wood and the one window at the top of the front wall. I stood up and examined my surroundings, the inside was filled with old tools and what should've been trash. I stood in the middle of what little open space there was.

"Mango," I called out, "Mango, where'd you go?" I walked around searching for her, I crouched, making sure to look into all the small crevices.

I heard a sudden high pitched bark from behind me, echoing up into the high vaulted ceiling. I jumped, turning around quickly to see Mango standing behind me with an old, dirty doll at her feet.

"There you are." I said as I stepped towards her. I bent down and picked up the doll. It was a hand-made rag doll, the face was worn and barely visible.

I tossed the doll into the abyss of junk, "Let's go." I said to Mango as I walked to the double barn doors. I grabbed hold of the handle and pulled it to the side, but the door did not move. I tugged at it again, with every tug I could hear the clanging of a chain from the other side of the doors.

"You can't get out that way." I heard a voice say from behind me.

I gasped, and turned to face them. A girl stood before me, she was older than I with long red hair. She wore a bright yellow dress that was poorly tucked into a pair of jeans with a long tear near the bottom of her right pant leg.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Well I...I'm Daniel."

"How old are you?" She said, stepping closer to me.

"Seven."

She looked at me up and down before reaching out her hand, "Nice to meet you, Daniel." I gave her my hand and she took it, giving it one good shake.

"What's your name?" I asked.

She dropped my hand and looked almost confused by my question. She took a step back and did not answer.

"Do you live around here?"

She perked up with excitement, "I live here!"

"In the barn?"

"Yes! It's quite lovely. Why, where do you live?”

"We're moving into the house just outside these doors.” She stepped into the light and I was surprised by how sickly she looked, “If you’re hungry, mama’s fixin’ supper soon, I could ask if you could join us?”

"No! You can’t tell anyone I’m here. If they knew I lived here, they'd make me leave. You don't want me to leave do you?"

I shook my head.

"Good."

"Daniel!" My mother called from the house.

"Go on, back out from where you came in. You can come visit again tomorrow." I watched her disappear behind one of the many piles of junk.

I left that day and never told my parents about her, and though I thought her odd I continued visiting her. We would spend the days searching through hoards of junk to find what she would call “treasures.” I helped her organize items within the barn to build a doorway that led into our clubhouse. She placed two rusty buckets against the wall for us to sit together. The clubhouse was dark so I brought her two flashlights to keep inside.

Her final touch was a rotted wooden plank, on it was written “We Mustn’t Be Afraid.” She sat it next to the doorway and stared at it proudly. “My dad used to say that all the time to me and my sister. It could be used for anything really, before my first bike ride, or if I didn’t want to eat my broccoli.” She laughed to herself, but I could see the sadness on her face.

“You don’t talk about them much.” I said, trying to break the silence. She stared off without really looking at anything. “I better head home now.” I waited for her response, but she stayed silent. I walked away from her and began to leave, but before I exited I said, “I’ll come see you again tomorrow, okay?” I left without another word.

My mother had found old boxes in the attic, we sat together at the kitchen table and went through them. I opened up one of the boxes, the inside was filled with old pictures of my mother as a child. I grabbed a handful of pictures and pulled them out of the box, underneath them was a polaroid shot of my mother as a child, and the girl in the old red barn.

I felt a rush of panic, “Mama, who’s this?”

“Who?” She asked, I showed her the picture and she smiled with just a tiny glint of sadness in her eyes. “Well, I guess that’s a long story.” She took the picture from me. “This is a picture of me and my sister. I always planned to tell you about her when you were older, but I suppose you're old enough now.” She sighed. “My sister was twelve in the picture and I was,” she thought for a moment, “I think I was your age. This is the last picture taken of us two before…before she died.” I could see tears fill my mother’s eyes, but still she smiled, “We always had so much fun together. It’s been such a long time, but I can still remember her so well. She always insisted on wearing dresses, but would wear jeans, too, and tuck them inside.” She laughed.

I hesitated, “How did she die?”

“She drowned in that pond just outside. She went out one hot summer night to swim, to cool off I suppose.” My mother handed me the polaroid.

I examined it closer, the two sisters were holding the sign that the girl had placed in front of our clubhouse earlier that day. “We made that sign together to hang over the door of our clubhouse." She said, "It was silly of us to make the sign before the actual clubhouse though.”

In the photo my mother was holding the rag doll that I had found in the barn, except in the picture it looked brand new. “Was that your doll?”

“Yeah, our mama made it for me before she passed, it was really important to me, but I lost it ages ago.”

I thought for a moment, “What was your sister’s name?”

She smiled and grabbed hold of my hand, “Daniella.”

I snuck outside and ran to the barn, I crawled inside, doing my best to find my way in the dark. I could see a light coming from the clubhouse. I slowly made my way inside where Daniella was sitting, dripping wet, on one of the buckets holding the doll.

“Daniella?” I said as I took a seat.

She lifted her head, but did not look at me, “I can’t remember.”

“Can’t remember what?”

“What made me so...angry. I just remember being so mad at her, so I decided to hide her doll. I thought I could give it back in a day or two. But, after so long, I couldn’t remember where I hid it. She was so sad, she couldn’t sleep without it, she cried all night. I thought I remembered hiding it near the pond. So I threw on some clothes and snuck outside to go find it, I must’ve spent an hour looking but…” She trailed off. “So then I thought I must have thrown it in the pond, so I jumped in. I swam around the bottom looking for it. I was running out of breath so I tried to swim up but couldn’t.”

“Why?”

She reached down to her torn pant leg, “My pants...they got caught on something. I tugged at them, but then...everything went black, and I woke up in here.” She stood, “I tried to get back inside, look!” She exclaimed as she showed me the doll, “I found it, I found it! I have to give it back to her, she won’t stop crying until she has it.”

I stood, “Daniella, she doesn’t need that doll anymore, she’s all grown up now.” She looked at me, confused.

“All grown up.” She muttered.

I nodded, “She's okay now, you don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

She stared at the doll, considering her next move. She extended her arm and handed the doll to me, “You’ll give this back to her won’t you?” I took the doll and nodded. She smiled at me and exited the clubhouse, she walked further into the dark but stopped suddenly, taking two steps back. She turned around to face me, streams of tears fell down her cheeks, “I don’t want to be alone.”

I myself began to cry, I tried my best to hold back the tears but I could feel a welt in my throat as I tried to speak, “We musn’t be afraid.” She smiled and let out a breathy laugh before turning back around and dissipating into the darkness.

As soon as the sun rose that morning I woke my mother and led her to the barn. I showed her the hole, and though she hesitated, she climbed through. I brought her to the clubhouse that Daniella and I built, before my mother stepped inside she stopped and looked down at the sign sitting on the floor.

She looked at me and smiled and together we walked into the clubhouse. We sat down on the buckets, I turned on a flashlight and sat it up, illuminating the room. She examined the small space with amazement, as she did I reached behind me and grabbed her old doll and placed it in her lap. She looked down and was delighted to see such a special memory.

She picked up the doll, “How did you…” She rubbed her thumb across the doll’s face, tears filled her eyes as she reminisced, not only over her long lost possession but also by the overwhelming amount of memories that filled her head. She took a closer look at the walls around us, as we sat together she told me stories about the different items hidden in what I once thought of as junk, but instead were the stepping stones leading my mother down memory lane. A trip not made possible by me, but instead the girl in the old red barn.