Wicked Scream

Mitchell Bowser on Unsplash

Aiden walked toward the barn, wondering what that strange sound was that came from the loft. He'd known that owls nested up there, but this sounded different. More like a scream than a screech.

It was darker than usual that night, with an almost sinister feel in the air. He chalked it up to the fact that the old barn had always given him the creeps, but tonight seemed worse than usual.  

He reached the barn doors within moments, trembling with each passing second. He noticed a thick, oozing liquid smudged across the handles. Though he couldn't be sure in the glean of the small yard light, he was sure it was made by a human hand. His pulse began to race.

He pulled on the sliding door, shivering at the creaking sound it made. Though he'd heard it a million times before, it seemed to decalcify his spine. 

He knew he should have brought a flashlight, but left it lying on the table. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tried to find the app for its flashlight. He'd only used it once before and struggled to remember where it was. 

He finally found the app, momentarily forgetting his heart-pounding fears. This is until he heard that wicked little scream once again. 

He shined his phone's light up towards the rafters. He didn't see anything straight away, but he did detect some movement in the corner. He tried to sound brave when he called out, “Who's up there? I know you're there. Show yourself.”

Other than the echo of his own voice, the barn remained silent. 

He moved a little further into the barn, keeping his flashlight aimed upwards. Remembering that he'd been working out there earlier, he thought it best to shine the light out in front of him and it was a good thing he did. He was only inches away from walking into the handle of his drill press. 

He backed up a few steps when he felt something on his back. He froze instantly, his pulse the only thing still racing.

He slowly moved the flashlight directly in front of him, steadying himself to face whatever was behind him. 

On one heel he turned around, fearing the strange breathing he was sure he'd felt on the back of his neck.

Then he saw them. Those beady little eyes, glowing in the beam of light. 

He stared into the face of his deepest fear. A face complete with flaring nostrils and toothy snarl.

Then he heard the voice. A voice that sent waves of terror through his entire being.

“Dammit, Aiden. Are we gonna do this every time you drink beer and watch scary movies? Take your drunk ass back in the house. I swear, I married a moron.”

Aiden sunk to his knees, thankful that he'd been wrong about his fears once again. He headed back to the house but stopped in his tracks when he heard it again.

That wicked little scream. 

~~~*~~~*~~~

This story came about thanks to my friend, CJ Landry. I had no idea what a writing sprint was until she helped me realize it's nothing more than a well-done freewrite. In our 2nd session, I decided to write for the full 20 minutes with a brand new idea. And this is what I came up with. I think I kinda like it. Thanks CJ.