The Judgement Barn

Rain fell in torrents as the escaped convict slopped through the flooded woods outside of St. Louis. The sing-song of the bloodhounds had faded from the forest when the dogs lost their scent in the storm. In what he considered a sham trial, Haynie had been convicted for the murder of a grocery store clerk. The execution date was only a week away, and he planned to miss it.

"Ha!" He laughed aloud and said, “If they knew about the other nineteen souls I've taken, the fools wouldn't wait the week."

The storm intensified as he broke into a clearing with tall grass and a flooded path that led to an abandoned barn. In the limited visibility, he could make out a dilapidated gray wood mosaic of classic farm design. The two-tiered pole structure had seen better years.

Haynie forced the door open. The high-pitched screech of the hinges added an overtone to the crashes of thunder and lightning. The interrupted stale air, pungent from mold, decayed hay, and dank wood, pierced his nostrils, and he sneezed. A constant water drip to his left motivated him to turn right, and he stepped into a dry stall. Exhausted, he laid down on the welcome dry ground and fell asleep. He was unaware of a black Barn spider, an Araneus cavaticus, that observed him and spun her web in the far corner of the barn.

Joseph Haynie awoke to what felt like hundreds of bugs in his hair and on his skin and face.

"Dammit, bugs! I hate bugs," he screamed in frustration and flailed his arms to brush the creepy crawlers off his face and ran for the barn door. Old wood planks sealed the space where the door had once been. Alarmed, he frantically searched for a way out but could find none and moved toward the center of the barn.

Strips of sunlight slipped through weathered boards to expose a table set in the middle of the barn floor. Seated at the table, a shadow, a silhouette of a man in a slouch hat, waited. His shape appeared as black smoke in an invisible frame that floated yet remained still. Behind the Shadowman were three doors.

"Hear ye, all who have entered, this court of barn justice is now in session," the Shadowman said. The bass voice reverberated off the rafters.

"Joseph Haynie, do you believe your trial unfair?" the Shadowman said.

"Who are you? Let me out of here, you bastard, before things get ugly, and maybe I won't kill you," Haynie said.

"Do you believe your trial to be unfair?" the Shadowman repeated.

"Of course, it was unfair," Haynie said, "three witnesses lied, the weapon they entered as evidence was a plant, and I didn't leave a hat at the scene of the crime. Who are you?"

"It is irrelevant, sir," said the Shadowman. "Today, you will judge yourself, and you will render a fair account of the truth. Behind me are three doors; pick one. One opens to a blessing and the other two for just punishment, choose wisely."

Haynie eyed an opportunity to escape and charged the table. He swung hard, connected with frigid air, and fell to the dirt floor. Mentally shaken, he jumped to his feet and turned around. The table, Shadowman, and the three doors were now behind him.

"Who are you, and what is this bullshit?" he demanded.

"It is irrelevant, sir," said the Shadowman, "there is one choice, pick a door."

Haynie was startled, and his heart skipped a beat when he sensed someone to his right. A slight woman in muddy prison garb stepped into the meager light. Strands of filthy, once blonde, hair hung over her face.

"And who the hell are you?" he said. "Wait, I know you, the baby killer. You're set to hang the same day as me."

Sherry Winslow had escaped the prison the same night as Haynie. It had been easy to walk out of her cell in the chaos of his escape. She had followed him through the storm and into the barn.

The week before his, her trial had ended in a conviction for the murder of her three-year-old son. The sheriff, the judge, nor the jury believed her. Someone had slipped into their house, abducted her son, and killed him.

"Sherry Winslow, do you believe your trial to be unfair?" said the Shadowman.

"I'd never hurt my baby boy. Those people made up stories about me, and they're not true. My own husband, my wife-beating husband, testified against me. He said I was an unfit mother when all I ever did was try to make a loving home." Sherry said. "Who are you?"

"It is irrelevant, ma'am," the Shadowman said. "Today, you will judge yourself, and you shall render a fair account of the truth. Behind me are three doors; pick one. One opens to a blessing and the other two for just punishment, choose wisely."

The three doors swung open, and each revealed portals into another time and place. Through the first door, you could see the Main Street in St. Louis and the gallows that had been built for their execution. Two hangman nooses swung in the breeze like twin pendulums ticking off time before they performed their gruesome work. A festive crowd gathered in joyous anticipation of a morbid show. One and all, in sync, turned towards the door with the expectation that Haynie or Sherry would soon enter their world.

Door two revealed an island oasis in a swamp with lush fruit trees and flowers of gold set against deep green outgrowths of wild plants. A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered from flower to flower, and a doe and her fawn loped across the scape.

The third door opened to a narrow river that crossed a brushy wilderness where a young boy fished. The boy waded into the water to retrieve a snagged line. Haynie and Sherry saw a float of crocodiles on the far bank turn toward him and close on his position.

"Joseph Haynie, choose a door and judge yourself, so the truth will be revealed," said the Shadowman.

"I've already escaped the first door, and I'm not going back. The stupid boy in the third door ain't my problem. I reckon the second door is a damn good place for me. Thanks for aiding my escape, whoever the hell you are."

Haynie ran for the second door, passed through the portal into the garden scape and pulled an apple from a tree, and bit into it. He looked back from the garden swamp and into the barn.

"Well, baby killer, that leaves you with a hangman's noose or crocodiles. Better luck next time, bitch," he said and laughed.

Haynie stopped his laughter, stared to the sky in fear and dropped the half-eaten apple as a massive black swarm of mosquitoes enveloped him. He slapped and danced like a blackened marionette puppet and tried to ward them off. His body collapsed to the ground, engulfed in the black mass of blood-hungry pests that fed on him. The blood-suckers spared nothing and soon flowed into his mouth and out his nose. Haynie was dead.

In the barn, the Shadowman passed judgment.

"Joseph Haynie, today you have judged yourself, and the truth has been revealed."

Door two closed.

Sherry rattled by the entire episode, cried, "I didn't kill my baby boy, Tommy; I swear I'm telling the truth, mister," she said. "I don't know why I ran away from my hanging because I might as well as be dead without him."

"Sherry Winslow, choose a door and judge yourself, so the truth will be revealed," said the Shadowman.

The crowd from door one chanted, "Baby killer, baby killer, you will hang today."

The crocodiles in door three surrounded the boy in the water. Sherry moved towards door one in surrender to the crowd and the gallows.

"I give up. I have no reason to live," she said. The crowd cheered.

The boy in the river of door three, too late, noticed the crocodiles closing in and wailed,

"Momma!"

Sherry heard him and stopped between the two doors. She recognized the impending tragedy about to unfold with the little boy, and her heart broke at the thought of him being ripped apart by the reptilian monsters.

"I can't let this happen," she cried.

She turned away from door one and ran through the third door. She ran down a slope to the riverbank with no concern for her own life and jumped into the water. A crocodile surged toward the boy as she snatched him up by his arms and turned toward the shore. The croc missed the boy, but not her, and snapped its murderous jaws and latched its teeth into her leg. Though in pain, she found inhuman strength and tossed the boy up on the bank before the reptile dragged her towards the depths of the river.

Sherry surrendered to her fate without a fight and thought, Oh Tommy, momma's coming to you, baby.

A rifle cracked, and the crocodile released its death grip on her leg. A minute later, strong hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her ashore. Her rescuer, a muscular blonde-haired man with gentle eyes, applied a belt around her leg to staunch the flow of blood from her wounds.

"My god, I've nevah seen a sheila do that. I lost his momma last year 'n I couldn't stand to lose my boy too. We are indebted ta ya for life," he said.

The Aussie lifted her in his arms and carried her up the slope to his Outback cabin.

In the barn, the Shadowman passed judgment.

"Sherry Winslow, today you have judged yourself, and the truth has been revealed."

Door three closed.

The crowd from door one had dispersed disappointed, and a single hangman's noose hung idly on the gallows.

Door one closed.

"This court of barn justice is now adjourned," the Shadowman said.

The shadowy figure and table faded away like smoke until it blended into the dark webbed corner of the barn. The front door reappeared to await and welcome its next visitor.

In the same corner, the black Barn spider smiled as a ray of sunlight shone through the old boards and highlighted the word Justice in her web.