THE RED BARN
By Joseph Charles
This story was inspired by a short story written by Ernest Hemingway.
I really don't know why I am telling you because I never told anybody before how I went to see the Red Barn. You see we had a camp in the summer up at Crooked Lake, that's where the Red Barn is, and I was never supposed to go any further away than the old water pump. Of course the old pump was far enough away, I suppose, especially when I had to help Dad carry water buckets down to the camp, but it wasn't half as far as the Red Barn.
I heard all about the Red Barn from the bigger kids who could go down the road to see it and they always told me how swell it was, but they really didn't know. I knew right away when I saw it that the bigger kids couldn't even see what was in the Barn. They were there all right, more times than I was I guess, but they must have been too busy thinking other things to really see all the things and hear all the noises and feel all the feelings as much as I did.
I know it was wrong to have gone down there that summer, but nobody ever found out so I guess it was all right.
It was after supper, and Mom was talking to the lady over at the next camp and Dad was out fishing in the boat and I was busy doing nothing except playing with my dog, Toby, so when I saw the bigger kids going past down the road I kind of decided that I would go too.
I don't even remember thinking about disobeying my folks, just that the big people were playing actors in the Red Barn and the kids were going right now so I had better hurry up before they were gone.
When I caught up to the big kids they didn't say anything about my not coming along. I guess they didn't know about Dad saying I wasn't to go past the water pump because they didn't seem to notice me much.
Jerry Turner was there though, and he wasn't any older than I was, but of course he was with his sister Dorothy. They had come down to the camp a few times to stay with me when Mom and Dad went to the Red Barn to see the actors— so I walked along with them the most.
Toby, my dog, kept following and I couldn't make him know he shouldn't come, and some of the other boys started playing with him. See; I would tell him to go back and he would just stand there until I walked away with Dorothy and Jerry and the rest of the kids and then he would run to catch up again.
After a while the boys began playing with him like I said, and throwing sticks for him to chase, and I forgot about him. I was busy listening to Dorothy tell me about the Red Barn. She was sixteen. She told me all that I had heard before about the actors and the real room they acted in instead of a screen on a wall. I couldn't wait until I saw it for myself.
I was so excited I wanted to run way ahead and beat them all there, but it was getting dark and I didn't have a flashlight like most of the rest of the kids had.
When we got about twice as far as the well pump there was a split in the road that I didn't notice when we drove up there two weeks before. We went to the right.
I remember that because one of the older boys threw a stick down the other road and Toby chased after it and found a dead rabbit in the road that some car had hit. The big boys kicked at it and said how soft it was and how bad it smelled and then they followed after us. Dorothy didn't even look and when Jerry wanted to see she just pulled him after her. I followed along beside her because I thought some of the big boys might throw the dead rabbit at me.
A little while later we saw a farm house on the left hand side of the road, and on the right, way up on a hill where there was lots of room for parking cars, was the Red Barn. There were only three cars there that night, though, because Dorothy said they were just rehearsing.
The Red Barn wasn't really a barn of course, and for that matter, it wasn't even red. That was just the name of it. It was a big brown colored tent and there were bright lights shining out from under the walls. The walls didn't even come all the way down to the ground.
Someone was playing an organ like in church only it wasn't like church. It was gay and happy and someone was laughing---I think it was a woman---and then someone else yelled loud and she stopped.
We were only half way up the hill then and I was scared when I heard the voice yell, but Dorothy said it was all right and that they were just rehearsing. She said they liked the kids to come to watch because that way they could rehearse right in front of an audience and practice better. I didn't see what difference it made, but as long as they were going to let us watch free I didn't care what the reason was.
Dorothy was the one to pull the flap back and walk in first, but I was second, boy! Jerry had let go of her hand and gotten lost among the rest of the boys. There were about seven bigger boys I guess, and three big girls including Dorothy. The girls were bigger though.
We all got in right away and some of the kids sat down in the seats, but I didn't. I stood in the middle of the aisle looking at everything at once. After all, it was the first time I had ever seen anything like that.
The stage was the funniest thing I ever saw and the most beautiful. It didn't have any front like other stages; instead it had seats on all sides. I never believed Dorothy when she said the actors came walking down the aisle, but I guess she was right—that was the only way they could have come.
A man and a lady were in the middle of the stage, and the lady was sitting in a big chair. The chair was yellow, I remember. They were talking back and forth, but the man had a paper in his hand and he kept reading from it. An other man came down the aisle with a lamp and put it on a small table right in front of the seats. If anyone was sitting there in the audience they could have reached over and turned it on if they wanted to like they were really in the movie. That gave me the funniest feeling.
The man who had brought the lamp out waved to us kids and said something to one of the older girls. She giggled and then the man went away.
There were two more people sitting across in the other seats reading papers and Dorothy said they were studying their parts. I remember wondering if it was anything like school.
The tent walls began moving back and forth just like a lady's skirt or big ocean waves and I guessed it was the wind doing it. It made it nice though. It made it seem like the whole place was alive.
The lady that was sitting in the yellow chair got up and came over right by me and took a cigarette out of a box on the table. I didn't know if she was tired of acting or if it was part of the play. Then she turned the lamp on and I felt like walking over and turning it off just for the heck of it.
There were chairs and tables and rugs and a desk and fireplace on the stage and everything, and I wondered if this was really a theater with a house in the middle of it or a house with a theater all around it. I decided it was a house with a theater all around it; it really couldn't have been anything else.
It was just about then that Toby trotted down the aisle and before I could catch him he walked right out on to the stage. He went over and sniffed at the man, but the man didn't pay any attention so he curled up next to the waste paper basket that was near the desk. The man said something that I can't remember, but I think it was part of what was written on his paper. Then the lady actor petted Toby and said, right while she was talking her part, that it was too bad there wasn't a part for him. I thought that was swell.
It was right after that that the bad man came over and started talking to Dorothy. The kids had been talking and laughing and pointing and two of the boys were running through the seats, but then everybody stopped—even the two actors. That's how I knew he was a bad man.
He was saying something about us kids getting to be a bother and how we were disturbing everything lately. I saw him point to Toby once and I got real scared, but he didn't point any more. I don't remember everything he said because I wasn't listening to it all. See- he was mumbling on and all the kids were crowded around not liking it so I took the chance to look all around again.
The old lady that was playing the organ had stopped too, but I guess she wasn't interested in us. She started looking through a pile of music without even turning around. Somehow I didn't think I liked her, but she wasn't as bad as the man.
There was a whole bunch of all kinds of things over in one corner that actors use in making plays and I couldn't make out what any of it was. The lights were hanging all around the ceiling and they were all colors—not just plain white like the ones home. They didn't have any shades over them and they were pointed in all different directions. It sure made the stage look nice and I thought it was a good idea. I wondered why Mom had never thought of that.
Then the bad man was saying that we would all have to sit in certain seats to watch and be absolutely quiet or we would have to leave. Then he changed his mind and said it would be better yet if we just plain left then. Dorothy said that was a mean thing to say.
About then the lady actor came over and started talking to the bad man. She said that she liked to have us there and that it helped her to relax, but the bad man didn't seem to care. Then the man actor came over and said she was right and that we never bothered them when they were practicing and he tried to help us stay. I could tell it wasn't going to do any good though. You see, the man was the boss of everything—I could tell by the way he was talking—and bosses are very important people because what they say usually means something. It was funny though, because nobody seemed to think that this something was anything— I mean—well—nobody liked it anyhow.
The kids were all groaning and looking mad and Dorothy and Jerry came over to me and we started to go out. Dorothy looked awfully disappointed and Jerry kept asking what was the matter with that man, but I wasn't disappointed at all. I kept remembering what was inside the tent and seeing it all over again in my mind. I didn't even remember walking back home along the dirt road except that I remember some of the boys were so mad they kept throwing sticks out into the woods along the road.
I don't think I'll ever forget how the nice lady looked sitting in the big yellow chair, or the man, or the lamp or the rug and desk. I can still see the bright colored lights and hear all that organ music.
When I got back it was only an hour since I had left and Mom didn't even know I was gone. She told me to put some wood from the pile on the campfire next to the trailer and I did it right away. Dad came home a little while after that and he had some fish. I don't remember how big they were.
Joseph Charles Belotte