The Barn
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Photo by Harsh Kushwaha from Pexels
“Nicole thinks back. “I was trying to take a picture at the top,” she says, remembering. “Oh gods, my camera must be wrecked.””
When Nicole comes to, it’s with hay tangled in her hair and a wet pig snout nudging her cheek. It’s an effort to get her eyes to open, and sitting up hurts more than it’s probably worth.
“Where…” she wonders out loud, digging her fingers into the dirt below her. It’s damp, immediately getting trapped in her fingernails. She picks out pieces of hay while surveying her surroundings. The pig that was so intent on waking her up is sitting and watching her now, and it's so cute that she nearly regrets the bacon she had for breakfast that morning – if it was even still the same day. She’s obviously in a barn – there’s chickens in a far corner that are watching her warily, and now that she can focus on more than the disorientation, the familiar petting zoo smell from her childhood hangs in the air.
Photo by Barbara Barbosa
She reaches out to touch the pig, but it gets up and scurries away, crossing the length of the barn and nudging one of the doors open. She looks to herself, then, and notes that she’s in a different pair of pants than she remembers putting on. The shirt is different too, and underneath it is a thick bandage. She presses a hand to it as she heaves herself up off the floor, groaning at the way the wound pulls. She manages a step towards the doors, but it’s so painful she decides to just stay in place.
What happened to her?
She waits for what feels like hours before the pig comes trotting back into the barn, returning to her side. Behind the pig is the most beautiful woman she’s ever met. She’s tall, with dark skin and tight curls pulled into a bun. She’s wearing well-fitted dark blue jeans and a lighter blue button up with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and Nicole feels her heart begin to race.
“You took quite a fall,” the woman says, “I thought for sure you were a goner for a bit, there.”
“A fall?” Nicole asks.
“You don’t remember? I found you at the bottom of a mountain – half in a ravine. Were you rock climbing?”
Nicole thinks back. “I was trying to take a picture at the top,” she says, remembering. “Oh gods, my camera must be wrecked.”
The woman rummages in her jeans pockets. “The SD card was salvageable, but I transferred it to a USB for you anyway.” She tosses it to Nicole, who fumbles but ultimately manages to catch it.
“Thank you…” She trails off, not knowing the woman’s name.
“Artemis,” The woman says. “Sorry, I should have said earlier. I live here, and I was on a walk when I came across you. The hospital was too far, so I nursed you back to health here.”
“Your parents must have been big Greek mythology fans,” Nicole jokes. “Thank you, though. What’s my prognosis like?”
“Something like that,” Artemis agrees, eyes twinkling. “You’ll be just fine. The wound in your abdomen is because when you fell a branch broke your fall – but it’s clean and stitched up, you’re just going to be sore for a while. I’m surprised you’re standing, actually.”
“Me too,” Nicole says. “You live here? In the barn?” She glances around again and sees a lofted bed in one of the far corners.
“What’s wrong with living in a barn?” Artemis’ eyes flash and Nicole quickly backpedals.
“Nothing! I just imagined a cottage or something separate from the animals.”
Artemis shrugs. “Why take up that much space when I could just have the one place? I like being near the animals as well. You get used to the smell, I assure you.”
Nicole smiles. She takes small, hesitant steps towards where Artemis is standing. It takes much longer than it should, and she’s more than embarrassed when she finally makes it across the barn, but she finally manages to stand in front of the woman who saved her life.
“Thank you, really,” she says. “I don’t know how I can repay you for what you did for me.”
Artemis’ eyes flicker from her eyes to her lips. “Well, I can think of one way… if your preferences are the same as mine, of course.”
Nicole feels a smile starting to tug at her lips. “Oh, I’m sure our preferences align just fine.”
Artemis reaches out a hand. “Come, then, I promise to be careful with that wound of yours.”
Basil Belliveau
When not attending classes or curling up with an oversized mug of tea and a good classic, Basil can be found working away at whatever recent project has caught their fancy. Their works tend to stay in the Romance and Fantasy genres, but they are also known to write a poem or three.
