This Must Be Heaven

This Must Be Heaven
By: Marah Slapsak

I visit this old barn daily, I cannot seem to escape it and I don’t know why. Through this worn barn door lies an abandoned floor filled with dirt and shattered glass. The wind blew a strong gust of wind into the barn and sent shivers up my spine as I stood by the doorway. My teeth begin to chatter and I realize that the goosebumps aren’t from the frigid air, but from this eerie scene before me. This is different tonight for some reason. Why is it different? I visit this old barn every day and even though it is a dark and eerie place, I swear I could call it home sometimes. As I float on my feet through the barn, I come across a small red wagon which is now covered in dust and cobwebs. “This wasn’t here before, but I swear that looks familiar.” I glance to the right, there lies a small ball that has deflated and is now stuck in this place forever; never able to roll on again. “And so does that.”

Continuing my journey through the barn, I see it. I am peculiarly drawn to this one spot. A small child’s shoe lies in the same place it has been for the past twenty years. I usually come up with different stories as to why this shoe had been left here, and why only just one. And for once, it dawns on me, “I used to own a pair of shoes just like that.” And although I want to examine it, something inside doesn’t let me. Why do I dare not touch it? I break away from my thoughts and look up from the shoe. There it is again. Running from this dark figure that appears day after day, I can’t seem to find the exit. I should know this place like the back of my hand; I have visited daily for the past twenty years. Tripping over something in the darkness, I slide across the floor and expect to bleed on the glass. Except I am perfectly fine; not even a scratch to be found. Puzzled, I stand up and look around. There it is again. What is this figure and what does it want from me?

Searching and searching I still cannot find the door, I hide in an old chicken feed barrel as the dark figure glides past me. Checking to see if it disappeared, I pop my head out. The area seems clear. I have to make another mad dash. Running and running, tiring by the second, there it is. Almost as if the lights from heaven were cast upon it, I have found the door. And just as I make it out of the barn, I glance back and see it there in the doorway with the light cast upon its face, or what is left of it. Long dark cloak, eye sockets hollow and never-ending, I finally see him. I see the poor lost souls swimming through his chest. He was coming for me this whole time.

I quickly begin piecing everything together and my childhood memories are flashing before my eyes. I am running through the barn playing with my favorite ball. I am trying to dodge all the glass on the floor as I trip on my little red wagon. I fall to the ground and crack my head open on the glass covered concrete. I go unconscious and I am lying in a pool of my own blood. Nobody suspects anything because I spent all of my time in the barn, and they don’t find me until it is too late. My pretty little blond curls are stained red, I have lost one of my white sneakers, and my favorite ball was deflated from the pieces of glass. I died right here in this barn. I have been dead for twenty years. As the tears begin to stream down my face, I glance at the door frame and the Grim Reaper has disappeared. I feel a warm presence and spin around. A bright and warm light beckons me closer, and just as I step under the light I blink my eyes once and I am in a field of flowers. I look down and I am twenty years younger. I have cute little blonde curls again, I have my favorite ball back, and everything is bright and sunny. As I run through the field bouncing my ball I see this field is never-ending and I stop dead in my tracks. I think I know where I am. “This must be Heaven.”