Short Story – The Ghost of You

Nathan Front sat on a wooden stool in the shadowy barn, the weight of the night pressing against him like a lead blanket. The musty smell of hay and old wood filled his lungs, mingling with the scent of his own fear. He had always thought barns were peaceful places—homes to quiet animals, distant from the chaos of the modern world. But tonight, this barn was a sanctuary and a death trap, all at once.

Across from him, Lauren Mills sat on a bale of hay, her red hair a fiery contrast against the gloom. Her face was pale, her emerald eyes wide with worry as she listened to Nathan recount the story—his story. He kept his voice low, partly to keep his trembling in check and partly because some primal instinct told him the ghost might hear.

“It started six days ago,” Nathan said, his voice hoarse. “I was driving home from work late. My boss, you know how she’s been treating me—screwing up everything and blaming it on me. I was already in a bad mood when some idiot in a plumbing van cut me off. We ended up in a chase, screaming at each other, racing up this old road. And then…” He trailed off, his eyes distant.

“You crashed?” Lauren prompted.

He nodded. “He pushed me off the road. My car rolled down the hill. By the time paramedics got there, I was dead. For six minutes.”

Lauren’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God, Nathan…”

“They brought me back,” Nathan continued, his voice hollow. “But something didn’t come back with me. Or maybe something stayed dead. The psychic—later, she said it was my anger. It was so strong, so consuming, that when I died, it became its own thing. A ghost, born out of my rage.”

Lauren frowned, trying to piece it together. “So this thing we’re running from, a ghost… it’s part of you?”

Nathan nodded grimly. “It’s me. And it’s killing everyone I ever wanted dead.”

Lauren’s breath hitched. “Who?”

Nathan took a deep breath, his hands shaking. “The first was the plumber. The one who pushed me off the road. The police found him at his house the next day, beaten to death. Surveillance footage showed…” He hesitated, then forced the words out. “It showed me. But I never left the hospital.”

Lauren’s face paled. “And the others?”

Nathan clenched his fists. “The next night, my boss. She was found in her office, strangled. The security guard on duty swore he saw me walking out of the building at exactly 9:45 p.m. But I was still in the hospital, hooked up to monitors. Then, the night after that…”

His voice cracked, and Lauren reached out, placing a comforting hand on his knee. “Nathan, who?”

“My ex-wife. Denise,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “She made my life hell after the divorce. There were times I thought about… about how much easier things would’ve been if she were gone. And now she is. The ghost killed her too. They found her at home, stabbed to death, right at 9:45 p.m.”

Lauren’s hand tightened on his knee. “Nathan, this… this is insane. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is,” Nathan said, his eyes blazing with a mixture of guilt and fear. “Every murder, every victim—it’s someone I hated, even if it was just for a moment. My neighbor from a decade ago, who used to yell at me for parking too close to his driveway? He’s dead. The guy who bullied me in high school? He’s dead too. And now…”

He looked at Lauren, his voice trembling. “Now I fear, it will come after you.”

Lauren froze, her face a mask of confusion and fear. “Why me?”

Nathan hesitated, his throat tightening. “Because there was a moment, years ago, when you thought you might have cancer. I loved you so much, Lauren, and it hurt to see you with Bert, to know I couldn’t be with you. And for just one, stupid moment, I thought… maybe it’d be easier if you were gone. I didn’t mean it. I never meant it.”

“Me?” he swallowed as she asked. “You actually had that thought? Even for a moment?”

Nathan only responded with an embarrassed look. They both knew that no matter how much they loved each other, the timing never worked out, nor would have worked out. Their friendship was hard enough to maintain. A love affair would have been 10 fold.

They sat in silence thinking of all the things that could have been. And the fear of not being in each other’s lives.

Nathan tried to change the room tone. “So, this is why I grabbed you and asked you to take me to a place that I never would have known about. So you would be safe.”

Nathan began to pace.

Lauren sat on the hay bale, her arms wrapped around her knees as she watched Nathan pace nervously. The barn creaked and groaned around them, a chorus of old wood straining against time and the chilly night wind. She could see the weight of fear in his eyes, the way it seemed to hollow him out, but she also saw something else—a thread of the Nathan she had always known, the man who’d been her anchor through so many storms.

She needed to pull him back, if only for a moment.

“You know,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the tense silence, “I used to come here all the time when I was a kid.”

Nathan stopped pacing, his furrowed brow lifting slightly as he turned to her. “Here? This barn?”

Lauren nodded, a small, wistful smile playing on her lips. “It belonged to my Uncle Roy. He was my mom’s older brother, kind of a recluse. He never had kids of his own, but he adored me. Whenever my parents would fight—which was a lot back then—my mom would pack me up and we’d come stay with him for a while. I always felt safe here.”

Nathan sat down across from her, trying to focus on her story instead of the gnawing fear in his chest. “What did you do here?”

“Oh, everything,” Lauren said, her eyes lighting up. “Uncle Roy let me help with the animals when he had them. I’d feed the chickens, brush the horses. Sometimes, when I was lucky, he’d take me up into the loft and tell me stories about the stars. He had this old telescope up there. Said he got it when he was a boy and had always dreamed of being an astronomer. Never quite worked out for him, but he loved to share what he knew.”

She laughed softly, the sound warm and soothing. “I remember one time, I was about eight, and I was absolutely convinced that the loft was haunted. Every time I went up there, I’d hear these weird scratching sounds. Uncle Roy tried to tell me it was just mice, but I didn’t believe him. So one night, I sneaked up there with a flashlight, determined to catch the ghost.”

“And did you?” Nathan asked, managing a faint smile.

“Oh, I caught something, all right.” Lauren grinned. “Turned out to be a family of raccoons. I screamed so loud I almost fell out of the loft. Uncle Roy had to come up and carry me down because I was too scared to move. Afterward, he made me a cup of hot chocolate and told me that even raccoons have a place in the world, as annoying as they might be.”

Nathan chuckled despite himself, the tension in his shoulders easing for a brief moment. “Sounds like a wise man.”

“He was,” Lauren said, her smile fading. “He passed away a few years ago. I always meant to come back and clean the place up, but I never did. Life got in the way, I guess.”

Nathan’s expression grew serious again. “Lauren… why didn’t you tell me about this place before?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess I didn’t think it mattered. It was just an old barn—at least, that’s what I told myself. But being here now… it feels like coming home. It’s where I went from being a little girl to a young woman.”

“What do you mean by that?” Nathan asked.

Lauren gave a mischievous smile. “It’s where I got my first kiss.”

Nathan’s face became more serious. “To… Ken something?”

“Yes, Ken Mathews, how’d you…” Lauren ask.

Nathan’s stomach twisted as a cold realization dawned on him. She had told him this story years prior. More so, about the barn.  And if he had known, the ghost knew too.

His gaze darted to his watch. 9:43 p.m.

“Lauren,” he said, his voice trembling. “We have to go. Right now.”

She frowned, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You told me about this barn once,” he said, standing abruptly. “And if I know about it, then the ghost knows too.”

The barn groaned ominously, the wind outside falling eerily still.

Lauren stood slowly, her confusion turning to fear. “Nathan, what—”

The temperature in the barn plummeted. A cold wind swirled around them, stirring the hay and sending shivers down Nathan’s spine. He turned to the door, but it slammed shut with a deafening boom.

And then it was there.

The ghost of Nathan Front floated in the center of the barn, its form a twisted parody of Nathan’s living self. Its face was his, but pale and distorted, the features warped by rage. Its eyes burned like coals, and its mouth was twisted into a snarl that exposed jagged, shadowy teeth.

“No,” Nathan whispered, backing away. “No, not yet—”

The ghost moved with horrifying speed, crossing the barn in an instant. It grabbed Lauren by the throat, lifting her off the ground with one skeletal hand. She gasped, her legs kicking helplessly as she clawed at the ghost’s grip.

Nathan’s mind raced. The psychic’s words echoed in his head: The ghost is trapped between life and death. The only way to stop it is to let it pass on.

He looked at Lauren, her face turning blue, and something inside him broke. He had spent so much of his life angry—at Denise, at his boss, at the world—but in this moment, all he felt was love.

He dropped the pitchfork and fell to his knees, scanning the barn for anything sharp. His eyes landed on the fallen pitchfork, its rusted tines gleaming faintly in the moonlight.

“Lauren,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry.”

With a burst of adrenaline, he grabbed the pitchfork, positioned the tines against his chest, and closed his eyes.

“For you,” he whispered, and he threw himself forward.

The pain was immediate and overwhelming, but it was nothing compared to the relief that followed. He looked up through blurry vision and saw the ghost falter. Its grip on Lauren loosened, and she fell to the ground, gasping for air.

The ghost turned to Nathan, its fiery eyes dimming. It let out a low, guttural sound—something like a scream and a sigh—and began to dissolve. Within moments, it was gone, leaving only a faint smell of sulfur behind.

Nathan slumped against the barn floor, blood pooling around him. His vision darkened, but he managed to smile as he saw Lauren crawl toward him.

“Nathan,” she sobbed, cradling his head in her lap. “No, no, you can’t—”

“Better this way,” he murmured. “No more anger. No more ghost.”

And with that, Nathan Front closed his eyes for the last time, his face peaceful for the first time in years.

Lauren sat in the barn, holding him, her tears soaking into his gray beard. The night grew still again, the only sound the rustling of the wind through the old barn’s wooden slats.

Nathan, in whole, has passed.