A Night in the Barn

April 9, 2026

by Percy

2 min read

Story Premise 2 min read (321 words)

"I had always believed in the stories of the unknown. Yet, that evening, I found myself doubting my own convictions. My partner, Michael, had gone to the shed to check on the horses, while I headed toward the barn to tend to our rabbits. It was around 9:00 p.m., much later than our usual routine […]"

I had always believed in the stories of the unknown. Yet, that evening, I found myself doubting my own convictions. My partner, Michael, had gone to the shed to check on the horses, while I headed toward the barn to tend to our rabbits. It was around 9:00 p.m., much later than our usual routine after attending the school play.

As I stepped inside the barn, Luna, our fluffy black rabbit, hopped excitedly after me. I reached for the switch to illuminate the space, but nothing happened. With a sigh, I flicked on the small lantern we kept nearby. The soft glow revealed the familiar hay-strewn floor and wooden stalls. I grabbed the bag of rabbit feed, feeling a sense of calm wash over me.

Just as I began to pour the feed into their bowl, I felt a gentle nudge against my side. Surprised, I turned around, but there was no one there. I brushed it off, thinking it must have been the rabbits eager for their dinner.

I continued my task, filling their water bowl and offering some fresh greens. Just as I knelt down to pet Luna, I felt another push. This time, it was stronger, causing me to stumble slightly, but I managed to catch myself. The barn felt unusually still, and an odd chill crept in, making the hairs on my arms stand up.

I shook off the feeling and focused on the rabbits, but my heart raced. Was it just my imagination? Or was there something more in the shadows of the barn? I glanced around, half expecting to see a figure lurking, but only the soft rustling of hay met my ears.

Finishing my chores, I decided it was best to head back to the house. As I walked out, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t alone, a sensation that lingered long after I closed the barn door behind me.

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