Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Moonlit Barn

     The trip to the barn was extraordinarily long.  Not a sound on either side, except for the footsteps that shattered the silence.  A bright December moon was casting mysterious shadows on the cold frigid ground.  As the north wind blew extreme cold into every crack and piece of loose clothing.  There was no escaping the bitterness.  The dog walked alongside in loyalty, not understanding the forlorn somber mood, but sensing the need for loyalty.  This was their second trip in as many hours and the horses had already been fed.  There was not even a hint of the dog herding Bob and Princess into the stalls of the red barn.  Bewildered, they marched silently into the open stalls of the old barn.
     Each tree stood at attention, saluting, holding their branches highlighted by the light of the cold gray moon, up to the dark sky.  Winter had stolen their leaves, giving the skeletal appearance of a fine tuned, well oiled fighting army honoring one of their fallen comrades.  Standing as an old friend, the red barn was comforting and inviting.  As with all old friends, it needed some cosmetic work.  Siding that needed to be replaced, damaged by damp hay stacked to the rafters.  Lights, dimmed by endless clouds of dust that had settled on the bulbs, shone weakly on the walls.  Boards that had been kicked and gnawed over the years.  The smell of horse manure and urine overwhelmed the senses.
     In the tack room with bridles, halters, bits and lead ropes was a calm peace.  One saddle with the left stirrup tied up in the hero position.  Even the horses were observing in silence.  That beautiful stone bridge over the great divide filled with dark despair, was inviting and tempting.  The sound of the sirens singing their hypnotic songs could be heard from the other side.  The beauty was overwhelming, but the cost was much to high.  It could change the destination forever.  Patience is a virtue and twenty or thirty years would go by in an instant.
     At that moment the wind changed and blew in warm air and renewal of life from the south.  The mice came out, in search of food, scurrying here and there.  The horses started whinnying and Bob was rearing up, turning and running into the paddock and banging his muzzle on his feed bowl.  Princess was turning circles in her stall and biting on the boards separating the two stalls. The dog, excited by the noise and change of atmosphere, turned suddenly and knocked the cocked rifle over.  As it fell it discharged, a loud noise, a flash of light, the smell of gunpowder and sudden complete utter darkness.  Halfway over the grand stone bridge, heaven's choir began singing the Haleaula Chorus as the wonderful reunion occurred.
     This is an entry to a mini-challenge on writeandreview.webs.com.  The challenge was to describe a barn from the point of view of a father just learning that his son was killed in the war, and not mention the father, son or war.  If you have time, let me know how I did.