Barn | Shannon Eberhard

Moonlight shone through the loft window, illuminating the dilapidated interior, where glimmering sheets of frost hinted at the raw wooden surfaces they covered in the sharp cold air. Sitting in the center on a wooden crate, was an old man. “This barn could no longer hold life”, he thought.” It was too old; the roof might just cave in any moment”. He sat a long time, watching his breath take solid form one cloud after another. He sat and waited for a distraction, a sign. The wind was dead, and the snow smothered any sound into a stifled murmur. Was this it? Was this the sign he’d been looking for? Emptiness or simply dark beauty?
He remembered building this barn, the planks still oozing with life and the scent of Christmas. When it was finished, the setting sun made the wood’s golden grain appear illuminated. It served its purpose for years, insulated with golden hay; it protected the lumbering life and grain inside, while, at times, its shell was half covered by snow. That is, until the roof caved in. One winter the snow was just too much. All the animals had to be slaughtered, the grain sold. There were no where else to put them. “Me and this barn are one and the same,” he thought .”
And then he wept.