I didn’t care. I just took a sip of my beer and watched it burn.
— 15 years ago —
My name is Owen, and my childhood home had two bedrooms on a ranch with an old truck, a few cows, chickens, and a rustic old barn with faded red paint. We lived in Idaho, somewhere past the middle of nowhere, in a town with a few hundred people. I enjoyed life, I only had a few friends, and life was spent camping, fishing, and parties… at least until my dad died.
My dad was a hard-working country man but knew a good time. We weren’t best friends, or anything like that, but I’d like to say we got along better than most fathers and sons. I guess we just understood each other.
It was a few weeks before Thanksgiving. I was 16 at the time. My mom, younger brother, and I were expecting him to come home for dinner, but he never showed. I still remember my mom’s face when she saw the two cops knocking at our front door. They said my father hit a tree while driving home.
It never made any sense. We drove that same road multiple times everyday. It’s a small town. I wouldn’t be surprised if my dad was the only one driving that road. I always guessed my dad was drunk, but the toxicology report was clean.
I am going to be honest, it sucked. We didn’t get along all of the time but shit, he was my dad. My mom did the best she could. Still, my younger brother and I had to grow up to pick up the slack.
Anyway, in the winter following my dad’s passing. I woke up to feed the cows, sunk the hooks into the bale, lifted and took a single step. I heard a loud bang like a door was slammed shut. Dropping the hay, I looked around — still just me. Nothing had moved. But I could hear this creepy noise, I could swear it sounded like someone was breathing, but there was something off about it. A few moments later, it was gone. It creeped me out, but like everything else, I moved on. I wasn’t going to let it get to me. Who knows, maybe I have gone psycho.
I have been haunted by that barn ever since. When the sun was out, it was less creepy, and I could ignore it. I brought it up with my brother, but he called me a chicken shit, accusing me of trying to get out of work. I wanted to leave this place.
As the years passed, it got worse. It was no longer just some noise anymore. I stepped on this old wood plank and was immediately hit with this terrible, uncontrollable panic. I am not a baby or anything, but it felt like that time my foot slipped right before diving off a cliff at Thompson Lake. Nothing I could do but brace for pain. Anyways, it only took a couple of times, and I learned to avoid stepping there.
By the time I was 30, mom was old, and my brother had left. He went to some tech job and made more in an hour than I did in a day. I couldn’t complain though. I was an electrician and had a beautiful wife with a baby on the way.
I didn’t tell my wife about the barn until we were married. I didn’t want her to leave my ass for talking like a psycho. She says she believes me, but I know she doesn’t.
In the fall, before my 31st birthday. I was unloading some hay after a hard day of work.
“Dinner is ready!” my wife shouted.
“Got it, let me finish,” I replied. I took a step, and my foot broke through a wood plank.
Great, my boot was stuck. The barn was old, so I wasn’t surprised. I mean, it was old when I was a kid.
I looked around. There was barely any light out. My gut was telling me something was wrong. I yanked my boot out. This twilight zone feeling overcame me. It was dark under the floor, but there was this… utterly black area? Definitely not normal. I wish I could tell you more, but it was just an unexplainable dark area.
I pulled my phone out and used it as a flashlight. Everything else lit up except this impossibly pitch-black floating ball. It had a smooth surface, but there was something unnatural about it. It absorbed ALL of the light, like a black hole or something. I shook my head. It just didn’t make sense.
I am basically a genius, so I grabbed a stick and poked it. Shit got weird, well, more bizarre.
It never hit the surface. The stick just got pulled into it. It looked like something was pulling on hot mozzarella cheese. I jerked the stick back. It morphed back to its original shape. Touching it, well, it felt like a regular stick.
The obvious next step was to touch it. My fingers got close, and the same effect happened. My fingers stretched and pulled into the black ball. I was freaking out. I quickly pulled them out. No pain, but I was panting hard with this adrenaline rush. Looking at my hand, it looked and felt normal.
I did it again with the same result.
I had to know. I reached out to grab the black hole.
“Oh fuck!” I said, panicking as I got pulled into it. Everything was dark, and my stomach dropped. It looked so blurry in this place. It felt like I was flying. I could see warped shapes and colors moving fast by me. I turned to my left, and I saw someone/something. It didn’t move as I watched it for that fraction of a second before jumping back away from the black hole. I was okay. Nothing hurt. Everything was fine, except I was breathing heavily, but I could deal with that.
I heard my wife calling out again.
Heading to the house was probably a good idea. Instead, I shouted, “Just a minute!” and returned to look inside that black hole.
Focusing, I could see a face. It looked like me. Could I see me? Weird, I was just sitting there while everything was rushing past us. Whatever was happening in this place felt like a dream. It was too much. I getting too nauseous and went back to the real world.
My chest was beating out of control. Lying on my back, looking up at the barn rafts, I closed my eyes. Muttering to myself, “what… the… fuck”.
A moment later, I went back in, this time bracing myself. Taking deep breaths, I observed my surroundings. I could see some solid objects and trees, but it looked like we were flying through space, except instead of darkness, I could see colors too. Looking back to the left, I could barely make out a steering wheel. Another piece of the puzzle clicked together. My clone was driving?
I moved my hand closer to my clone. I must have touched him because his head turned towards me. I got a good look at the face, it wasn’t me, but I knew that face. The moment passed. He turned and was in a panic. I could see an object heading straight toward us. There was a deafening noise, I felt even more disoriented.
Then everything faded to darkness.
I was too shocked to move. Tears were coming out of my eyes. Nothing made sense. I could hear him slowly breathing until it slowed and finally stopped.
I eventually pulled myself out of that silent void. I was devastated, weeping on the floor of that haunted barn.
It was hard knowing that all along, it was me who killed my dad.