Chapter Text
The barn is old, dilapidated and rusty. It's paint peeled from the walls, revealing it's original yellow coat. The windows were scratched and dirty with age. The area around it is murky, grass overgrown and dug up dirt. ‘Why’d we even come here?’ She thinks.
“Whaddya think is in here, Connie?” The voice is young, silvery and curious. The boy pryed at rusty chains with a bolt cutter.
“Beats me. This place is a dump.” Another voice- Connie, replied.
“Think it's something valuable?”
“From the looks of this place, I doubt it.”
None of them were shocked at the condition of the old barn and field; the owner, Farmer Andy, was always crude and loud-mouthed, disheveled and rude. All the farmer did was sit on his front porch, cradling his shotgun, reminiscing about the ‘good ole days’. He had taken a liking to them- even if they seemed to avoid him.
“If it's something good, we should bring it to the house. Figure out what to do with it.”
“Something good? See my above statement.” Connie says, earning a chuckle out of the boy. She shuddered slightly from a gust of wind. “If this thing doesn’t open, we’re heading home, Steven. It's cold out here!”
Steven playfully rolled his eyes, setting the bolt cutters down. He wiped his damp forehead, pink sleeves rolled to his elbows. “Come on, Cons! We’re so close! It could be some cool stuff in here.”
He grabbed the bolt cutters, gripping them onto the chains. The locket was already bent and worn with time- applieing the pressure caused them to snap, the rusted chains falling in a heap. Despite the chains and locket falling, the door seemed jammed in place from age- a simple kick burst them open.
“Yeah!” Steven celebrated. A grabbed a flashlight from his bag, shining it into the darkness. Steven steps inside, Connie followed behind.
“Gosh,” He mutters, pinching his nose. It stank. Fetid and rancid. “Stars, I think something died in here, Connie.”
The light darts from place to place, illuminating old gardening devices and equipment.There’s a pile of old cloth in one corner. That’s where the smell is coming from.
The swarm of files support his idea of something dead. Gross.
Though he can’t see he, Steven hears the patter of Connie’s shoes coming towards him. Connie smiles slightly. “Steven… that’s a pile of rags.”
“I know what I smell!” Steven playfully says. “We should get clos-”
The pile of cloth moves. They both scream. Steven drops the flashlight.
“What the heck?!”
The bundle of moldy cloth is alive.
Steven’s whole body is filled with horror and dread. Connie is hidden behind him, nails clutching into his shoulders. They both scramble backwards towards the doorway.
“What the hell?!” Steven snaps, yanking his arm away. He quickly grabs his flashlight, shining it on the thing.
It's the wrong shape for an animal. Through the dirty cloth he can see shades of white and pink, faded and nasty. The figure is hidden among old parts of machines, like it had tried to burrow itself underneath. He can feel Connie’s hands tremble on his shoulders.
Something glints in the light. There’s a chain in the dark, covered in muck and scum. It's hard to see without better lighting, but the chains direction snakes towards the body. Steven’s cut twisted, a sick feeling clawing its way to his throat.
“Steven, what the hell,” Connie says, appearing besides Steven holding a shovel. They exchanged a grim look, and Steven holds the light as Connie steps forward.
The figures whimpers weakly. It turns it's head, the crusty rags falling from it's head, revealing its sorrowful face. It's skin was dirty and grim, pink hair disheveled and damaged.
There’s a large collar around its neck, wrapped around it's wrists. They squeeze their skin in what Steven could only tell was painful.
“Oh my god.” Steven couldn’t tear his eyes away. Is this Andy’s doing?
“Hey,” Connie starts. “Hello. Can you hear me?”
No response.
“Connie, we have to get them out of here,” Steven says. “How long has it been since Farmer Andy’s death?”
They look down at the pitiful, half-conscious body crumpled on the floor. They know the answer.
A month.
That’s how long it's been since Farmer Andy’s death. That’s how long this poor creature has been left alone, rotting away. Said creature is currently gazing at them like they’ve never seen a human before. It's scraped together a pile of disgusting rags for a blanket; to keep warmth at night, Steven guessed.
“P-ple….please….p-please.” The voice is dry and gravelly, like sandpaper. Both of them freeze, staring down at the figure. Pie cut eyes stare back, and they’re stark against dirty skin. The light gets pointed down more, and the figure whimpers fearfully, squeezing their eyes shut. “P-please….no-no, p-please, n-no mo-ore….” It's weak, barely audible. There’s terrible desperation in it that keeps the two grounded in place.
Steven’s heart absolutely shatters.
“Connie,” He says. “There’s a water bottle in my bag. I need that and the bolt cutters.” Without a word, Connie goes to fetch the water.
He crouches down without taking his eyes off the figure. The figure whimpers, tears pricking at it's shut eyes. The chain is cool to the touch, and he grips it, attempting to somehow rip them off. He scans the broken figure. Every movement Steven made, the figure flinched and cried softly, curling in on itself. Like it was expecting a blow to its body.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” There’s no response; the figure is like a scared animal. It keeps shuffling, trying to back away.
Connie returns, handing the bottle and bolt cutters over to Steven. The figure only whimpered when up until then, only moaned in horror and begged. That’s before it sees Connie with the bolt cutters.
Absolute terror paints it's face.
“Ngghhh!-” They attempted to beg again, but it's replaced with loud sobs. “Hold the light.” He says, and Connie obeys with shaking hands. Steven shoves the rags aside, and gags at the sight. This is where the smell is coming from.
The collar is tight, the edges are sharp and ragged. And where- Steven nearly vomits- puffy distorted flesh meets over the metal. His stomach turns. He hacks, holding a hand to his mouth.
The creature is genderless, but appears to have female like features. He moves the cloth from their body, and they sob loudly as more injuries are revealed under the light. Steven’s not looking at that, instead focusing on getting the chains off. Getting them out of here.
Steven sets the cutters around the collar and applies the most pressure he could. With a screech, the collar snaps and falls free from its neck. Steven does the same for the rest.
Connie is waiting with the water.
“Here, let me.” She says, carefully stepping over. Their less than halfway conscious, but when Connie gently lifts their chin, it groans. “Please, I need you to drink this.” Their eyes flutter open, and Connie sees it's eyes for longer than a second.
They choke on the first sip, and their bent over hacking. Their breathing is hard, raspy. Connie feels sick.
They second try, they shudder and gulp at it, closing its eyes in relief. They both decided that they’d take the figure back to their home in hopes of aiding it.
Neither of them had expected what they’d find when they opened that barn. But, rather they liked it or not, the figure was Steven and Connie’s problem.