The Barn Is Afraid of the Dark

How it begins

Olive Hoot found the barn holding its breath.

The doors stayed wide open. The shutters would not close. Every hinge was as stiff as a frightened elbow.

'It's bedtime,' Olive said gently.

The barn creaked.

From the lane came a scrape, then a rattle, then a long low whooo.

The barn's doors opened wider.

Olive looked behind her. A wheelbarrow rolled past in the wind. A loose bucket bumped its wheel. The whooo was Percy Wool testing his flute on the way home.

'Ordinary noises,' she told the barn.

The shutters trembled.

Percy stopped beside the gate.

'Does it need a song?'

'It needs to know what it's hearing.'

The sheep tucked his flute beneath one arm and listened. Olive listened too. She was an owl caretaker, which meant the dark was her usual working day. She had forgotten it could sound unfamiliar to somebody built to shelter others.

They began with the bucket. Percy held it still. The rattling stopped. Then he tapped it once so the barn could hear the sound by itself.

One shutter relaxed.

They found the wheelbarrow, the squeaky gate and a branch brushing the roof. Each noise became smaller when it had a name.

But the barn still would not shut its doors.

'What else?' Olive asked.

A tiny creak came from the loft.

Percy looked up.

'That one isn't outside.'

The barn went very still. Olive flew to the loft window and found an old wooden toy rolling whenever the floorboards settled. She brought it down carefully.

Percy played one soft note, then stopped before it became a performance.

'We can stay for a little while,' he said.

Olive nodded. 'But you don't have to keep everyone awake to be cared for.'

The doors moved inward an inch. It was not sleep yet. It was enough room for a good beginning.