When the Woods Call your Name

Growing up in the country, Elijah knew better than to wander at night. Every evening, as dusk coated the sky he would check the old barn in the back and ensure the horses were safe, fed, and watered. On this particular evening, after he'd closed the barn door with a wooden thump, he heard a whinny from the forest surrounding their property. He was positive that all his family's horses were safe inside the barn, but it was possible that a horse had escaped from a neighboring farm. He knew better, but he felt confident that he could find the horse and return before his parents noticed anything amiss.

Night had fallen completely, so Elijah checked that his cell phone was in his back pocket with a charge and a signal before heading into the dark trees. His flashlight was industrial strength, so it cut through the night in neat five foot lines that he swung from side to side, following the hoof beats and low brays. The sounds seemed to be coming from the same direction, leading him further away from his farm. But no matter how far he went, the sounds never got any closer. He could see movement flitting on the edges of his flashlight's beam, playing tricks on his eyes as well as his ears.

“Elijah”, the shout rattled through the trees.

“Over here,” he shouted back, swinging his flashlight around. His father appeared between a couple of birch trees. The lines around his mouth appeared deeper than usual and his boots were covered with mud.

“Where the devil have you been? It's after midnight.”

That couldn't be right. He'd gone to check on the horses just after eight. That would mean he'd been gone for four hours. He checked his phone and it confirmed his father's statement.

“I thought I heard a horse out here,” Elijah explained.

His father jerked his head around, looking for something Elijah hadn't been able to find. “We'll talk about this at home.”

As Elijah followed his father home, the whinnies turned into whispers of his name, the voices trying the syllables out on unfamiliar tongues.

When they arrived back at the barn, his sister was comforting the horses, and his mother was comforting his sister.

After a short but fiery conversation, it was determined that his sister, Viola, would join him in checking the barn each night. Elijah bristled, but ultimately relented. Viola was younger by two years, fifteen to his seventeen. He was supposed to protect her, but he couldn't deny the relief of having someone else there.

The next few nights, Elijah heard the whinnies again, but he didn't leave the barn. He wasn't sure if Viola heard them, and was too afraid to ask. Then the noises started changing. Instead of a horse whinny, they became his name again. At first in different cadences, different tones. Distinguishable enough to identify his name, but clearly not human. It took six days for the voices to master the rhythm. They called out to him in his father's voice, his mother's, his sister's. But with Viola there, Elijah could ignore them.

He still couldn't bring himself to ask Viola if she heard anything.

The seventh night, Elijah had to check the hay storage on the second story of the barn. Viola had asked about a scratching she'd been hearing. Elijah had the unsettling feeling she'd been hearing something they both knew weren't rodents, but he was more than willing to check. Maybe it was rats and he had only been imaging nefarious ghosts.

There weren't any rats.

“Nothing up here,” Elijah shouted down, fighting down a sneeze against the hay as he continued shuffling the hay around, looking for vermin he already knew weren't there. “Can you see anything down there?”

Viola didn't answer.

“Viola?” He shouted. He tried to peer over the side of the ledge, but night had fallen and he couldn't see anything. The horses below began shrieking. Elijah moved towards the ladder.

“Viola?”

“Down here,” she shouted, but it wasn't coming from inside the barn. He peered out the window, but it was darker outside than inside the barn. He couldn't see anything, but he could hear her.

“Help, I've been hurt,” Viola called out.

“What happened?” Elijah shouted back, sticking his head out the window to try and see clearer.

“I tripped and twisted my ankle. I can't move my leg.”

He could barely hear her over the noise of the horses.

“Please, it hurts.”

Elijah leaned further forward and a crow flew towards his face, startling him backwards. His feet hit the edge of the second story and he teetered backwards. He grabbed for the ladder, but missed.

His back hit the floor of the barn with a thud and pain raced up his spine. He tried to get up only to find he couldn't. He couldn't move at all, even when crows began landing on his prone body. Even when they began pecking at his skin. He could hear the horses whinnying and he could hear a crow flying off with his voice, calling for Viola.