It’s been a while, and I honestly didn’t expect to need to, let alone, after the last few days, be able to come back here to give an update.
For days life carried on, and it looked as I had originally hoped life on the farm would. I went about my chores, made friends with my neighbors, and sat on the porch sipping sweet tea in the twilight at the end of each hard, but rewarding, day.
I wholly expected the figure to come back. One night passed, then two, and then two full weeks went by with no nighttime visitors disturbing my sleep. I began to feel comfortable and I had chalked the experience up to being an anomaly. A figment of my imagination. I had decided Mama M was just some old lady who had a vendetta against goats rather than someone with a genuine reason to create a rule not to keep them.
I was extremely incorrect.
On Tuesday I found myself waking from a fitful sleep. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table, and it read 3:00 am. I groaned, thinking I’d woken up on my own. Then I heard it.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
The sound was identical. I recognized it immediately. My stomach dropped, but I composed myself quickly and before I could even process what I would like to do my body took action and I found myself pulling on my robe and practically sprinting through my bedroom door in the direction of the sound.
Once again, as I made my way down the stairs and glanced out the window I saw a familiar figure. There was no doubt that this time the figure was the same as the last. I still had no idea what it was, or of it’s motivations, but I could practically feel the hatred radiating from it, through the walls of my home, hitting me all at once like the break of a wave, dragging me under with it and forcing me to gasp for air. Something in my brain told me to run, but it was as if the figure was forcing me to stay in place, to look into its eyes, unable to break its gaze. I continued to stare at the figure, and it stared directly back, until I was shaken from its spell due to multiple fervent bangs coming from all the walls of my home, all at once, overwhelming my senses and forcing my eyes shut with my hands shooting up to protect my ears.
When the banging subsided and I was able to pry my shaking hands from the sides of my head I peered back through the window and jumped back as I met blood red eyes, up close, gazing directly into my own. I tumbled over the stair rail, and as I dared to glance back at the window I noticed the eyes were gone. Despite the absence of the figure there was still a suffocating, overwhelming feeling that the presence remained, and that it was watching me, not just watching, but very carefully taking note of every move I made, scanning for vulnerabilities. I was being hunted.
I froze. I didn’t know what to do, but knew making the wrong move would mean my death. Ironically, because of all the overwhelming evidence that pointed to the fact that I should not move I found myself mimicking one of those goats that freezes and falls over until the danger abates. I sat, perfectly still, terrified, until I saw the first rays of sun begin to creep across the floor toward me, promising that the nighttime visitor could no longer be nearby. Sure enough, the moment the rays hit my foot the all-consuming suffocation relented, and I could bring myself to my feet.
Still in my robe and barefoot I stumbled out the front door, my legs finding their own way through my property, eventually bringing me to the barn. As I reached for the door I paused; I had to take a breath to steel myself before opening the doors and seeing exactly what I knew I would find.
In the corner, surrounded in shadows, were the bodies of all my little goats, with my favorite, the black baby goat, splayed on top, as if specifically placed to send a message. The cows looked upon the corpses silently, having somehow escaped the same fate.
I spent the morning carefully burying my tiny friends, chastising myself for being the cause of their untimely demise. I should have listened, but I still had no idea why. That day I decided I would find out, and fell down what feels like an endless rabbit hole trying to uncover the secrets of this farm I have found myself on.