Ellie’s voice in the darkness. “Mommy.”
“What is it, honey? You have another bad dream.”
In answer she crawls into the warm bed, face wet and hot. I hold her slim back as she sobs.
I stroke her hair. “You want to tell me about it?”
“It’s Mister Nervous,” she says. “He comes in because he’s a-scared of the barn.”
It’s the same nightmare she’s had two or three times a week since we moved to the farm.
My husband and I are having them, too.
A sad boy.
Sometimes I catch a glimpse of him swinging from the barn rafters.
I just realized that I posted a remarkably similar story in 2017. Both are based on truth. My youngest daughter saw Mr. Nervous when we moved to an Iowa farm fifteen years ago. We had many an unexplained occurance for the first few months we lived there, including seeing a hanged boy in the barn. Such things leave an impression. I started a YA horror novel based on this that is about 20k words in, but was set aside for other projects. I hope one day to go back to it.