While exploring the farm, we find some blood splattered near the remains of a window with jagged fragments of glass. We don't dare touch the glass for fear of cutting ourselves, but we decided that the part still standing would make a great place to play. So, we worked on cleaning the place up and soon made a semi-covered area to hide from thunderstorms.
As the summer months approach, we frequently return to the farm in the wood. One night, Dennis, Hanna, Wendy and I decided to camp there. After playing games, making supper over a small fire in a pit, and telling scary stories we settle into sleeping bags and doze off. Sometime late into the night we heard a high-pitched scream of terror that cuts off abruptly. We are all suddenly wide-awake and scrambling into the darkest corner of the house. As we huddled in the darkness, afraid to make a sound, we hear footsteps nearby. We squeezed together as tightly together as possible as a shadow moves just a few hundred feet away from the house. It crosses slowly beside the house. The steps crunch on fallen leaves and twigs as it passes us and to the barn out of sight.
After what feels like hours the figure comes out and stops at the edge of the slab of the house, near the broken window. I feel Wendy trembling as Hanna swallows her gasp, all of us praying we're not heard. It turns in our direction and we freeze, not moving, not breathing as a flash from a lighter comes into view and a cigarette is lit. We then see that the shadow is a man. I remember wondering if he can see us as he took a puff and casts a glance back across the remnants of the house and the yard to the barn. He let out a low laugh, like a growl as he turns back in our direction stopping when we hear coyotes howling nearby. He turned towards the sound and laughs, walking back towards the barn and kicking the door open before disappearing into the shadows. We heard his footsteps fade and finally allowed ourselves to breathe. Wendy starts crying and saying she wants to go home. Dennis, the leader decided we should go, so we pack up as quietly as we can and then run home as quickly as we can.
YOU ARE READING
The Bloody Farm
Short StoryBack before there was a Walmart or a post office along Creighton Road in Northeast Pensacola, there was a farm hidden from view by woods. No one knows how long it was there before most of it was burnt to the ground one cold night. Rumour is an entir...
