Seth
Chapter 8: Comfort

It’s only a child. It’s scared, hungry, and it’s all alone.

She stood just inside the doorway to the barn, a stack of Seth’s clothes in one hand, a plate with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the other.

There wasn’t a sound coming from inside nor was there the slightest indication that the child was still in there.

Child.

That’s what she kept telling herself over and over. Regardless of where it had come from, that’s all it was really, a child. It was frightened and had sought shelter in the one remaining place on her property. Now that she was aware of its existence, she couldn’t very well turn her back and hope that it would eventually go away.

There was no denying the almost maternal pull she felt when it had made that heart-wrenching sound when she’d discovered its hiding place. She felt the same way she did whenever Seth woke up from a nightmare or had fallen and hurt himself, and despite everything else, her instincts kept insisting that she was in no immediate danger.

Here I go, then.

She stepped into the barn and let her eyes adjust to the dimness.

“I’m back,” she called softly. From the opposite wall near the covered saddle there came a faint scraping of sound.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you.”

There came that heart-wrenching sound again as the small form—which had been in a seated position against the far wall—drew its knees up in a protective stance. Now that her eyes had sufficiently adjusted to the overall dimness, she could see that it was trembling from fear.

It was then that she became aware of the chill hanging in the air. The barn had always remained cool in the spring and summer, but now that winter was approaching it was positively freezing. Her hands clutched at the plaid jacket and gray sweat pants that she had removed from the closet in Seth’s room. They would be warm enough, but the thing couldn’t remain out here in the barn. The temperature would be plummeting soon and the cows would be taking up residence here. Based on how they’d reacted the previous times they’d encountered the thing, there was no conceivable way they’d remain together in the same confined space.

She set the plate of sandwiches down and then dropped into a crouch. The form remained where it was, but there was no mistaking the slight snuffling sound emanating from as it scented the food.

Using an old shovel handle that was nearby, she carefully pushed the plate as far as it would go towards the covered saddle. The thing stirred slightly, eager for the food, yet still wary of her presence.

She sighed and slowly sat down cross-legged on the floor of the barn. The folded clothes and shoes remained in her lap and were warmed by her body heat.

“Go on, take them,” she coaxed. She counted away the seconds as gradually the thing began to unfold from its defensive position. A small, slender arm began to stretch out towards the plate. The fingers were well-formed yet dirty, and soon enough of the shoulders and head emerged for her to tell that it was a boy with light brown hair that extended past his ears.

Her mind immediately flashed to the photograph of Seth before his first ever haircut. His hair had been long like that before she had decided to cut it, but unlike her son, this child’s hair was tangled and full of bits of hay.

“That’s it. Come on now.”

The small hand closed eagerly around the lip of the plate, but it was still largely concealed within the shadows for her to see any more detail. The face remained hidden behind the tangled mass of hair, and with lightning fast reflexes the thing snatched the plate back. It quickly retreated towards its hiding place where it began to eat rapidly and noisily.

So far so good.

She waited patiently for it to finish its meal, her hands buried within the folds of clothes in her lap to warm them.

Within minutes the plate was clumsily pushed aside, all trace of the sandwiches gone.

She got to her feet slowly, her boots barely making a sound on the dirt floor.

When she was about ten feet from the covered saddle, she carefully unfolded the gray sweatpants and mimed putting them on one leg at a time. She repeated the gesture with the sneakers, and finally with the plaid shirt, which was very much like her own. She couldn’t explain why she did this, only that for some reason she knew that it was watching and somehow learning from her.

With a deep steadying breath she approached the covered saddle. The thing shifted away from her, but it was effectively trapped. Just a couple of more feet and she would be able to peer over the saddle and see it up close.

“It’s okay.” She took another step, then another. Her fingers brushed the top of the dusty plastic cover as she carefully laid the clothes down one atop the other.

There came that faint whimper again, small and plaintive.

She edged over the top of the saddle, her voice soft and full of sympathy. “I promise I won’t hurt you, I….”

The thing turned its face up towards her, its deep blue eyes wide, innocent and pleading.

Jennifer felt her world tilt dangerously to the side as she met its gaze, and a flood of fear and familiarity threatened to shake her to her core.

“I….”

It became impossible and unendurable.

Photo credit: Duane Michals