The Abandoned Barn: A Short Story

It would take a great deal of imagination to picture the barn as it once was. Old and rotten, it smelled of long-gone pigs. The red paint was chipped and faded beyond recognition, the floor creaky and perforated.

Kansas, though a state of great repute and general respectability, did not treat its old structures with kindness. High winds, dust storms, and the shattering force of hailstones had done their work through the years, leaving the barn unsalvageable.

Or so everyone thought.

Luckily, Benjamin had an imagination. As he stood looking up at the barn he saw great and unlimited potential.

“It’s perfect,” he spoke out loud.

As he said the words one of the barn doors finally came off its rusty hinges and toppled into the grass.

“Ah well,” Benjamin consoled himself, running a hand through his light hair. “It would have to have been replaced anyhow.”

Whistling and merry, Benjamin set off from the barn towards the town to buy the first necessary supplies.

“I need nails, timber, and a hammer,” he instructed the man in the general store.

“What for, sonny?” The elderly man asked as he pulled out the things requested.

“I’m fixing up the old abandoned barn north of the William’s place. I intend to live there and bring my bride there after we get married next spring.”

The old man stared at Benjamin for a few seconds. Then he began laughing.

“What is it?” Benjamin asked, frowning slightly.

“You really think you can fix up that old barn? Why, that place has been rotting for the past fifty years. It’s beyond repair.”

“We’ll see,” Benjamin said, but the determined line in his forehead became more pronounced as he spoke.

“What’s that for, Benjamin?” A man asked as Benjamin set off down the street carrying all of his supplies.

“I’m fixing up the old abandoned barn up north.”

The man laughed. “That’s a hopeless case, Benny-old-boy. Don’t waste your time.”

“He’s right,” called a woman who had overheard the conversation. Several other people echoed her words.

“I aim to at least try,” Benjamin said firmly.

Everyone tried to convince him otherwise, but he would not listen.

“That’s ridiculous!” They said. “Don’t you know a lost cause when you see it?”

But Benjamin didn’t, apparently. That very day he began working on the abandoned barn.

As the weeks went on Benjamin worked on the barn all day every day. Many people “stopped by” to see the work, but mostly they stood there criticizing and trying to convince him to give up. Benjamin listened patiently and politely, but never for a minute stopped working.

Still, the work was more difficult then Benjamin had assumed it would be. The damage and rot went much further than surface deep. Every part of the barn was broken and fading.

One hot summer evening after hours of backbreaking work, Benjamin cast himself upon the floor of the barn, sweaty, sore, and exhausted.

“Maybe they’re right,” he said, looking up at the rafters. “Maybe you are beyond repair. Wait…ouch!”

Rolling over and rubbing the back of his head, Benjamin looked down at the loose floorboard that had poked the back of his head. Curiously, he dug his dirty fingers into the crack between the loose board and the floor and pried it up.

“Is that a chest?” He wondered out loud, peering down the hole he had made. Prying up more loose floorboards he soon removed a large chest. The lock was rusted and easy to break. Throwing back the lid, Benjamin gasped. Stacks of money stood inside, and on top was a yellowing piece of paper. Picking it up, he read the following.

My dear friend,

If you are reading this, I am now dead. This trunk is full of my life’s savings, and as I have no more living relatives that I am aware of, and no friends to speak of, this money is now yours. I beg and pray that you use it well.

Sincerely,

Frederick Richardson, May 2nd, 1854

After the letter and the money had been inspected by trusted authorities and pronounced authentic, all the money became Benjamin’s. No longer did anyone laugh at him for working to fix up the old barn, and no longer did anyone gossip about it. If anything, they now gossiped over the nicely furnished barn-turned-house and the pleasant husband and wife who lived in it.

Benjamin was always glad he had not given up on the old barn. With time, all the pain and work had more than paid off.

Perhaps we also should not give up on the things labeled “lost causes” in our own lives. Perhaps if we keep working, and keep hoping, and keep praying, we shall one day dig deep and discover riches underneath all the dust and dirt and decay.

Perhaps we will then realize that all the time and pain were worth the trouble.