Just Rigby - A Marching Band Story

The Barn

***

The rain is a torrent. It's hard to see. Thunder rumbles angrily and lightning lights up the dark clouds every few seconds. The wind is pushing the rain sideways like it has a vendetta.

We're making our way across puddles and little channels that are cutting their way through the dirt road. It requires big awkward steps to keep from walking directly into the little streams. They aren't huge but just big enough to keep us from running the half mile straight back to the house.

"Julietta," Josephine calls out. "This way. There is an old barn we can take shelter in."

"Right behind you!" I'm doing my best to keep up with Josephine as she gracefully leaps over a large puddle before leaving the road.

The same puddle lies in front of me, like a tiny ocean, mocking me. I envision myself leaping nimbly over it, but in reality I am about as athletic as a chubby baby elephant. Reality wins and just like a funny meme on the interwebs, I find myself face down in the mud.

"I'm ok!" I slip and slide my way back to standing. "I'm ok."

Josephine, apparently oblivious to my fall, hasn't turned back. She's now about twenty yards ahead of me just past the chestnut tree line. For a dainty countess living in the 1800s, she's definitely a lot more agile than I would have imagined.

Me, on the other hand, let's just say that I'm in band for a reason. Not the most athletic specimen here. I wipe the mud from my face as best I can.

"Hurry, Julietta!" Josephine calls as she nears a small grove of short, stubby trees.

I can hardly breathe as I catch up to her. She's nearing the door of a barn at the edge of this grove. It's a small wooden building with a single door and no windows. She tugs on it a few times and it creaks open.

"Come on!"

I follow Josephine out of the storm into the barn. It's dark except for a few slivers of dim light coming in through the planks of the wall. It smells like dirt and rotten apples in here.

My eyes are beginning to adjust. There is a pile of burlap sacks in the far left corner and a stack of wooden crates to the right. Directly to my left is a wooden table. Josephine plops down onto the burlap pile with a giggle but leaps up immediately with a shriek as a handful of mice scurry to the other side of the room.

"Oh, my!!" She exclaims with her hands over her mouth.

I guess it doesn't matter what century you find yourself in, nobody likes mice! She kicks the pile a few times to make sure there are no more critters. When no more rodents emerge, she declares it safe and sits down again. Though, this time she seems more wary. I chuckle out loud.

"Come, sit," she orders politely with a smile.

I untie the scarf that is holding my sagging hat in place. The floppy hat did good to keep the sun out of my eyes but did little to keep the rain from soaking my hair. My dress is soaked, and I can feel my toes getting wrinkly in my waterlogged shoes.

Josephine is in the same condition. Soaked through. I guess she was right about having an adventure in the countryside.

"Josephine..." I'm curious about her home in the city.

"Call me Josie," she interrupts with a grin. "Only Ma-ma and old men call me Josephine."

"Ok," I smile. "Josie it is."

The rain hasn't let up. The wind comes in gusts and shakes the planks of the old barn each time. It's so dark that it feels like night, but it's early afternoon. The sound of the rain on the old roof is soothing and terrifying all at the same time. This is not a sweet, little country sprinkle - it's a dark, and massive thunderstorm. The lightning flashes and thunder claps come every few seconds. I'm hoping this old barn will remain standing.