Fergus, the other farmhands and I met in the workers hut. By now word of the horror within the barn had spread, and the same questions lingered within everyone’s mind.
“Sabotage,” Fergus said bluntly, “Somebody must have broken in during the night.”
“But we already searched the whole farm,” one of the younger men - Gilligan, I believe his name was - said, “Every gate is locked, every fence and wall is still up. How could they have gotten in?”
“They could have just jumped the wall. Sure the ones around here are high and safe, but think about the far fields. They’re all low down, aren’t they?”
“But then they’d have to walk through all the fields. There’d be footprints. More than just our own.”
The debate continued, although the details of what was said were lost on me. Instead, my mind replayed the nightmare I had had. The words of woman in my dream were vivid, as if she were repeating them to me.
“What you owe in money, you shall pay with life.”
The woman asked for thirteen percent of my earnings. I had refused, and the same night that she had demanded the money for, my animals were dead.
“Mr. Fisher?” I heard Fergus say. Blinking, I realised that all were now looking at me.
“My apologies. Say that again.”
“It might be worth having one of us patrolling the farm for a few nights. Not all the fields, just the yard area. That way we could catch whoever did this if they come back.”
“Yes, yes, a good idea. Um, I’ll give a bonus to whoever wants to do that.”
“Well, we could all pitch in. Set up a rota,” added Brandon, one of the men who had been at the barn doors that morning.
“Hold on just a second,” Gilligan - I was now sure that was his name - interrupted, “What happened in that barn. Whoever did that, they have to have been incredibly strong. Any of you ever been able to pick up a whole grown cow? Especially a dead one.”
“Well…” Fergus said, thinking for a moment, “I suppose… There could have been more than one person.”
“And say we do find these people breaking in. What do you think we’re gonna do about them?”
A few looks were exchanged between the farmhands. The enthusiasm they had shared was quickly fading. We had some tools of course, ones which could cause a great deal of damage to an intruder. But there was only so much a pickaxe or sickle could do against a group of troublemakers.
“Alright, alright,” Fergus said, standing up, “I’ve got that sorted. Don’t you worry.”
The crowd parted as he walked towards one of the many beds that lined the room. I assumed it to be his own as he opened up the drawer in his bedside cabinet and rummaged around. All eyes were fixed upon him as he took out an outdated pistol.
“By Selene, Fergus.” I cried as he returned to his position, dropping the gun onto the table.
“This here’s my old grandfather’s, back from the French war. Still works, at least last time I checked. So I say, whoever’s out on watch at night gets the gun. If you see anyone, you shout for them to lay down. If they don’t…”
“How long have you been keeping that in there?” Brandon asked.
“Since my first day here. Haven’t had a need for it until now.”
“Does this feel a little too much, for anyone else?” another farmhand asked.
“Look, do you wanna stop intruders, or don’t you?”
“I don’t wanna kill anyone!”
“You don’t have to,” Fergus said, “Not unless they try to kill you. The way I see it, if a man wants to break in somewhere and cause trouble, he can’t complain when he gets himself into trouble.”
“Has anyone here even used a gun?” Gilligan asked.
“It’s easy. Point this end at whatever you want to kill, then pull the trigger.”
“But what if I don’t want to kill?”
“Mr. Fisher?” Brandon asked, looking at me, “You have any thoughts? It’s your farm.”
I tapped the table with my fingers as I thought. Should I tell them of the woman who visited me? Fergus and a few others already knew of her visit; they watched me with the same expression as those who I had not told. But did they suspect, deep down, that this hag may have had a hand in what had happened.
“One person keeps watch each night. That person gets the gun. If they see anyone, grab them and take them to the hut.”
“And what if they don’t-”
“If they do anything other than what you tell them, shoot at their feet. That should be enough to frighten them without killing.”
“It’ll also wake all of us up too,” Fergus said, nodding along, “That works well. No way anyone’s gonna try anything against all of us.”
“Does anybody have any objections to this plan?” I asked. Once again every man looked to their peers, then shook their heads.
“Good,” I said, getting up from the table, “I shall go and draft a rota and sort out your additional pay. Meanwhile, may somebody please clear out the barn?”
The next six nights passed without event. True to their word, one man would remain awake during the hours of darkness, armed with the pistol. He would sit out in the yard or patrol the out walls of the farm until daylight came again.
Friday evening came once again. A quiet kind of dread filled me as I sat in the armchair of my living room, book in hand. My mind was elsewhere as my eyes were focused not on the pages, but on the window that looked out onto the yard. I had scheduled Fergus to take this watch, trusting him more than any other to stay alert.
I heard a gentle tap as a drop of rain hit the window and slowly made its way down the glass. A second came, then a third and fourth and fifth. Then a torrent of water began to fall from high above, pounding against my roof and windows. The quiet of the nighttime became replaced by that thunderous noise, and that was when the next knock at the door came.
Cautiously, I placed the book down and left my living room. At the front door the knocking came again, and over the sound of rain and winds I heard her voice again.
“Mr. Fisher,” she called out. I opened the door to find Miss Whistler waiting for me, her face still with that grotesque grin that she had been wearing when we first met.
“Hello again,” I said to her, “How may I be of assistance?”
“I see,” she said slowly in that horrid voice, “That your farm still sits upon my land.”
“Is that so?”
“You must be more careful, dear. It appears that you have forgotten to leave a payment for me. It is lucky I am able to remind you. A more vindictive landlord may have-”
“Have you brought with you any proof that you own the land?”
“… I assume that you did not mean any offence by your question.”
“Quite frankly I could not care if you were offended. You’ve come to my farm to demand money which you have no right to. I’ve checked with the best lawyers on the island; you own nothing!”
“You youths don’t know when to hold your tongues-”
“Before I kick you out, I have one more question. Last Friday somebody broke in during the night to slaughter my animals. Were you involved with this?”
The grin that had remained on her face throughout our conversation grew even wider.
“An old woman like me do a thing like that? Perhaps you may be going mad, Mr. Fisher. Why not try and get some rest?”
“You’ve no right to call anyone mad. Now leave this farm, and never return. If you ever come to this door again I shall call for the Church to come and remove you. Do you understand me?”
“Certainly, Mr. Fisher. If this is how you wish to be, then so be it. I, of course, have not the strength to force you to pay the rent you are due. Should you wish to deny an old lady her rightful-”
“Begone!”
I shut the door with such force that I feared it may have been damaged. One minute, then two, and then I opened it once again. I had never heard the woman leave.
I returned to my living room and read for another hour until my candle had burnt out. Then up to bed I went, satisfied that my farm would be safe. If the woman wished to call upon some help and attack my farm as retribution - as I am sure she had done last Friday - then Fergus would stop them.
“Just rest,” I told myself, “Just rest.”
The rain was enough to lull me to sleep in minutes.
“How much must you spill until I am gifted what I am owed?” asked the shape in the darkness. It was still night, although somehow my eyes could see what lurked near the foot of my bed. I felt a heavy pain in my chest, as if some invisible weight had been placed upon it. This same weight seemed to pin my arms and legs down so that I could not fight back against this nightmare.
My mouth would not open as I tried to shout. I felt as though two hands were wrapped around my throat. Surely with this and the pressure on my lungs, I was to suffocate.
“How many chose to play this game before you? How many made it to the end?”
It changed now, morphing into a human-like body. Its legs grew to be as long as my room was high. It bent ninety degrees at the waist so that its torso could stretch out horizontally across my ceiling. The head hung over my own as though it were a guillotine; ready to drop at any second. Still I could not scream.
“No one. Either I shall win or you shall lose. That is how it ends.”
I landed hard upon my wooden floor, still screaming. Rolling to my back I looked up, and then around me. My bedroom, lit once again by morning light, was normal. No figures waited at the end of my bed, none stood over me, no one was anywhere.
I rose to my feet and opened the door, finding nobody hiding behind it. The rest of my home was fine as well, all my windows were still closed, every door locked and bolted. Quickly I dismissed the things I saw last night as just another nightmare, before my brain was able to convince me otherwise.
I made myself some breakfast, which I was in no mood to eat, and then ventured out into the yard. It did not take long before I found Brandon - exiting the worker’s hut - with a concerned look about his face.
“Oh, Mr. Fisher. Are you alright sir? You look a little shaken, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“I am quite alright. Do you know where Fergus is? I have some business I would like to discuss with him.”
Brandon looked back to the hut.
“I don’t think you’ll get much from him at the moment sir. By Selene, you should have seen him when we found him. We opened the door this morning, and there he was curled up outside, scratching himself and muttering.”
“I say.”
“The cold must have gotten to him. I mean, we all heard that rain last night.”
“Well, is he okay? Does he need a doctor?”
“No, no,” Brandon insisted, “A bit of food and a bit of rest. He’s asleep now, so I’ve assigned the lads their duties this morning. I’ll have someone go check up on him later today, and we’ll see if he’s alright by lunch time.
“Right on. I shall see him later.”
Returning to my home I set about my own work, calculating profits and expenses caused by the new livestock which we were waiting for. All the while I wondered if that woman had anything to do with Fergus and his sudden illness. Before lunch I left my work to check on him once more. I knew the farmhands would still be out working for a while, giving me enough to to speak with him in private.
I entered the worker’s hut and approached the man groaning in his bed. I saw his face, almost turned completely grey, and how his eyes seemed to have sunk deeper into their socket. My immediate thought is that he needed a doctor, as clearly whatever cold the man carried this morning had developed into something more.
“Fergus,” I said quietly, not wishing to startle the man. I was forced to repeat myself a few more times before he seemed to take notice of me.
“You look terrible, man. I’ll have a doctor come to check on you, as soon-”
My heart raced as he flung himself off the bed and began to pull himself across the floor towards me. All the while he groaned heavily with pain.
“Fergus! Fergus, stop this at once. Go back to bed, you’re in no st-”
“… Your. Not your. Farm.” he managed to stammer out, “-Whistler. Farm.”
The remainder of his words were meaningless noise as he carried on across the room. I stepped back, which only motivated him to move faster. It was only when I had made it back to the door of the hut that he stopped, panting in the centre of the floor.
“Fergus,” I said, now approaching, “You’re very sick. Come now, I’ll help you back to bed, and you just rest. Okay?”
He didn’t respond. Cautiously, I knelt by him and grabbed his shoulders. The man was a foot taller and nearly twice as muscular as myself, so I had no hope of lifting him without his help.
“Alright Fergus. You’re going to need to help me out here. On the count of three, I need you to stand. One, Two”
His giant hands grabbed me, trapping me in the same way a predator may catch its prey. I struggled as he lifted his head just enough for me to see his face. That withered face.
“You can’t,” he said as he coughed, “You can’t make her leave. The woman.”
“You mean the old hag, from last night? Did you see her? What did she say to you?”
He laughed now, watching me with bloodshot eyes as he did so.
“This is her land. You owe in money… Pay in…”
His head drooped as he let go at me, slipping onto the ground once again. I rolled him onto his back and shook him, trying desperately to wake him. What had the old woman said to him. What had she done to him, to cause him such pain.
The door to the hut opened again. I saw not who it was, but heard their gasp as they saw us on the ground.
“Call a doctor!” I cried, “Somebody, come help me get him to his bed. Someone call a doctor.”
Two men helped me hoist him up and place him back in his bed, though it was clear to us all now how little we would achieve with this. One man, I think it was Gilligan, ran into town and grabbed the physician. For all our efforts, Fergus would die before the doctor reached the farm.