"Barn" by Ashley R. Wynn

It was cold, and she liked it. There was no wind. The night was clear and silent except for the star that was singing to her and the sound of her bare feet striking the road's well worn surface.

She grinned as she rounded the curve and the canopy overhead broke away and she could finally see her star again. Delighted, she danced across the middle of the road, twirling around with her arms lifted, palms upward, the long loose sleeves of her nightgown gathering at her elbows.

It was if her fingertips would brush against the moon and stars and come away with a fine layer of dust like when she caught butterflies in her mother’s flower garden as a very young girl. Then she wished she were a butterfly so she could fly close to the star that was calling her. She could see it so clearly now. It seemed inches beyond her reach.

The thick trees had disappeared behind her and now she was surrounded by rolling farmland. Fields of corn, fields of wheat, it didn’t matter to her because the star was beckoning her. It flickered, danced in the wide black sky. It seemed closer, larger. It moved around more than the other stars. She hoped that it wouldn’t fall out of the sky.

She lowered her arms and stood still, staring at her star as it moved about like a firefly. Her long, soft sleeves slid down her arms and over the delicate knuckles of her slender long-fingered hands. Her dance had been a dizzy one and the world around her was just beginning to end its mad spinning.

Her star was really bigger now. It was closer. It sang to her more loudly. She noticed how much more yellow it was compared to the other, more distant stars. She noticed how much more it twinkled, danced, in its small square of black velvet.

She stood on the small hilltop and stared at it, entranced. The singing became more intense, more demanding. It called to her in a language she did not know, but still understood. “Come,” It demanded, and she stepped off of the road and moved her feet into the sharp gravel. A shard of glass cut one of her small, tender feet, but she did not seem to notice. It seemed nothing could keep her from her star. Her bleeding foot finally found a patch of soft, thick, overgrown grass. Her toes sand in deep and the cold dew washed the dust from her feet.

An elated laugh escaped her throat as her star came closer. She dared not stop. Her star wanted her as much as she wanted it. The star moved even closer and then disappeared into a hayloft of a nearby barn. It glowed brightly inside, shining through the cracks in the aged building. The star sang out loud now, more faintly than it had when it was inside her head. She ran for the barn, the closer she got, the louder, the more beautiful the song got. She was consumed by the brilliant light and the beautiful music pouring from the hayloft.

She pulled open the heavy door, and it screamed in protest. Its scream was not loud enough to drown out the star’s song, though. She found the ladder quickly and moved up the work worn rungs. Tiny drops of blood stained the ancient wood as her foot bled on them. She was anxious to possess her star. She hauled herself onto the cold wooden floor and stared amazed at the glow from the other side of the mountain of hay in the huge loft.

“Come to me now, my lover,” The star beckoned.

She hurriedly scurried over the soft sweet-smelling hay. In a cleared out space in the hay, there stood a very tall, very thin boy with the bright light behind him. She slid on the hay, her legs collapsing under her. Her eyes opened wide, and her flowing black hair cascaded over her shoulders and into her clear brown eyes. She crouched like a lioness about to pounce on unsuspecting prey, but fear had taken over and she had frozen as the boy closed his mouth and ended the haunting melody.

There was something odd about the lighting in his hazel eyes. His dark clothing set off his pale skin. The bright light, her star, blazed brightly behind him causing his auburn hair to create the effect of a flaming halo. He extended a thin pale hand, but did not seem to visibly move.

Frightened, she stared at his hand. It was white and smooth like a marble tombstone. She knew it was just a cold. His fingernails were long and well kept. But there was something odd about them. They were like glass!

She stood, her hair falling away from her face as her eyes slid up his arm and to his thin face. He had a beautiful mouth that was stretched into a pleased, close-lipped smile. She took a step closer, losing all fear of him. He opened his arms with the same statue-like movement as before. She stepped foreword and wrapped her long slender arms around him.

“Beautiful.” His arms closed around her gently, holding her against him.

“Sing again,” she begged quietly and pressed her cheek against his chest.

One of his hands left her back and lifted her chin so that she had to look at his face. His eyes were so old. He no longer looked anything like a boy. He brushed her soft, tangled hair over her shoulder and ran a cold, marble finger down the side of her neck, across her collar bone and the top of her breast. He untied the lacing at the front of her gown and lifted it off of her in one swift motion . He ran his hard, chilling hands over her shoulders and down her back and cupped her bare buttocks in his unnaturally large hands. He pulled her against him, and held her there. He could feel her hard nipples through his thin shirt.

“So soft, so warm,” he purred in her ear. He swept her hair away from her neck once more and then took her in his arms and stood at his full height, lifting her bare bleeding feet off of the hay-strewn floorboards. He sank his teeth into her neck and moaned as the warm wave of hot blood spilled onto his tongue and down his throat.

She gasped and the star’s song became louder and the light grew brighter...