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The illusion of the man appears at midnight. The farmer doesn’t know what to think. His skin a dull gray from where he stood in the barn. His hair white as snow. Kevin thinks it could’ve been an angel. The way it stood, wordless. Yet, it sparked so many questions.
“The hell?” He whispered, afraid the figure would spot him. He had ducked behind a stable half-wall, the mare next to him snoring. The ghost made no noise, no footsteps, no breathing. But then, for a second, Kevin swears he could hear jingling. Like a chain of sorts?
He peeked up, trying to catch another glimpse. The ghost stood still. Kevin looked over him, spotting a vague redness in his hair—an injury? Perhaps a spill of something. His clothes held a pattern of diamond shapes in red. Though, it was torn. Kevin had never seen anything like it around here.
He lived in a small town out in the middle of nowhere, being one of a couple farmers—they were the closest thing to his family. He had arrived on horseback, pleading for a couple days to catch himself on his feet. He had taken up work as a farmhand, and years later, an owner of one. He was thankful to those that helped, but… He was still lonely. No matter how many times he spoke with Shirley, down at the mart. No matter the times he traded tools with Mister Wolfgang next door. Kevin was a lonely man.
He loved his livestock, sure. Took care of them, fed them, watered them, and loved them. The last time he had loved a person , though.
Those times were, sadly, behind him.
Courage gathered in the knot of his stomach, the ghost continuing to stand. Glancing around from time to time, but entirely question less. This was stupid.
Kevin sat up, clueless as to why he was so frightened of a ghost. He was not a child, and he will solve this problem as such. Pushing off the half-wall, he stood right next to the entity.
“What in God’s name ‘re you doin’ in my barn?” Kevin spoke, his voice stained with annoyance. The ghost looked through him. His face seemed even paler up close, though now, Kevin had thought that it seemed to be face paint. How his neck was more of a peach than his face, red markings on his right eye. Facial hair still remained, through the face paint. His eyes, though empty, were two separate colors.
He didn’t answer, corners of his mouth in a frown. Kevin’s eyebrows furrowed, thoroughly pissed from the lack of response.
“Well?” He raised his voice, the horses beginning to stir.
“I’m sorry, cowboy.” The ghost’s voice was deep, yet strained. Full of genuine sorrow. It took all the breath from the farmer’s lungs, freezing him in his place. The ghost reached out, walking into Kevin. Freezing not only his lungs, but his bones as well.
Then, he was gone. No ghostly glow in the middle of the barn. Just a man and his horses. Kevin thinks he may be going crazy.
He went back to his bedroom. Tonight had been too confusing. Utterly unnatural. Kevin was a logical man, and a ghost in his barn was just too much for him to deal with that late. Though, it did interest him how he saw such a pretty man. Maybe it was a hallucination. He hadn’t gotten much good sleep this week. The quilt that covered his bed was familiar. Safe. He let exhaustion take him.
“I’m sorry, cowboy.”
The voice was vague, blurry. It was lighthearted, a laugh edging the sentence. Kevin shivered, remembering the ghost’s voice. He opened his eyes.
The grass was a beautiful green, almost as beautiful as the man that walked through the field. His hand held Kevin’s, tugging him through the sun.
“Sorry for what?” Kevin matched the man’s tone. His dark brown hair blew with the wind. The breeze calmed the heat that shone down on Kevin’s skin. The man’s lips curled in an expression that Kevin couldn’t place.
“For… frightening you. I know how scared you can get.”
“I do not, ” Kevin laughed again. Now noticing that he didn’t have a name for the man in front of him. His skin was bright and peach. His hand was warm. They walked through the field, the man picking flowers that they passed.
“Who are you?” Kevin asked, admiring the flowers he picked.
“You don’t know me?” He asked, Kevin now looking back up to the man. He gasped at the face he now had. It was covered in face paint that seemed to melt away, red and white mixing. Hair now pale and blanched. His cheeks hollowed and malnourished. Like he had drowned. With eyes of the dead.
Kevin woke with a shout, shaking off the shivers he had gained throughout the night. The daggers the man stared into him now a burning afterthought as he threw himself out of bed.
He cursed, now understanding that there was no way in hell he was getting back to bed now. Might as well start the day early.
Visions of the man invaded his thoughts as he cooked himself breakfast. Eggs slightly rubbery, toast slightly burnt. It was whatever, though. He never complained all that much. He ate his breakfast in silence, accompanied only by the sounds of his book’s pages turning.
He tried to return back to where he left the book off, searching for the dog-eared page. He sighed, as the task was unsuccessful. What he did find, though, was a peculiar bookmark. Placed in a spot he was not at.
It was a flat piece of metal, the top charm adorned with jewels. It looked much too expensive for him. Curious… where could a thing like this come from? The fact that someone was in his house, but the only difference he could care for was his book being changed? Weird.
Kevin laughed to himself, wondering if it was that stupid ghost from the other night. Though, he wanted to convince himself it was a hallucination. He seemed to see pictures of loved ones from his past often—why would this be any different?
Then again, Kevin didn’t recognize his face. Perhaps it was someone he had forgotten, that was a possibility. The only logical one, though it was a ghost. He had come to haunt him, much like his past does. No matter how much he tries to forget.
“Meow?”
He jumped, head shooting to the noise. His eyes met with smaller, softer ones. Angel, his red Maine Coon, jumped onto the table he sat at.
“Oh, Angel…” Kevin murmured. She chirped, brushing against his hand. He felt some of the confusion and stress melt away, even if just for a moment. He would feed her after he finished his morning work. It was his routine: care for the roosters and hens, collect any eggs they had produced, fill up the food troughs for the horses, then brush them, check on his smaller herb garden, then go out for lunch. It was something he tried to commit to, something solid to rely on.
Finishing his breakfast, stretching, and hoping out of his chair—Kevin started the day.
“You just gonna follow me ‘round all day?”
“Mrow.”
“Figures,” Kevin let out a breath from his nose at Angel’s seemingly curt response. His lasso was draped over his shoulder, curled around and under. He didn’t use it all that often, but he kept it with him. It was useful for a rogue horse or chicken, but otherwise it wasn’t necessary.
He would keep it with him.
“ Tch–tch, C’mere, Pretty Girl!” Kevin called, ushering the hen into the gated house. She cooed, taking small steps into the henhouse. The rest of her brood welcomed her. A family. Kevin smiled.
Kevin fondly peeked to his herb garden, already planning his to-do list. But, his eyes caught something else. A head of pale hair, crouched body—clad in red—running his hands on the leaves of his tomato plants. Kevin swears he could spot a fond smile on the ghost's face.
He wasn’t afraid anymore, moreso annoyed that this damned apparition decided to haunt him in particular. Messing with his crops, standing in his barn— who does this guy think he is?
Kevin’s face darkened, holding out a hand to allow his voice to travel farther.
“EY! GHOST!” He shouted, the spirit’s head snapping to meet his eyes. Wide and afraid, more than afraid. Mortified.
Kevin went up to him, nearly tripping in anger.
“Why are you here?” Kevin continued to yell, the ghost falling from his squat. Starting to kick back to get away from the farmer. Holding his hands up, he spoke.
“ Please—please! Don’t hurt me!” the ghost cried, Kevin recognizing the voice. From where? He couldn’t place.
Kevin’s breathing evened, the ghost’s pleads inching into his brain. He cursed, kneeling down and knocking the hat from his head. As he ran calloused hands through his hair, the ghost’s posture became less tense. Though he still moved away from the farmer, he was quiet.
“What are you doin’ here?” Kevin finally started, looking up from his hand. The ghost’s eyebrow raised, just one. Giving him a very confused look. He opened his mouth, but the only thing that left it was a strangled sound.
The apparition cleared his throat before continuing.
“This is my home.”
“Like hell it is. This is my farm,” Kevin responded, curtly.
“This is the place I am attached to. I can’t leave, even if I wanted to, cowboy. No need to be rude.” The ghost seemed to get annoyed as well, rising from the floor and dusting himself off.
“You —you scared the shit out of me in my barn!”
“It doesn’t look like I remember. How curious.” Kevin followed him to his feet. “Though, I can say that it’s the best this place has ever been. I must thank you for that, cowboy.” The ghost mused, turning back to the tomato plants next to him. He leaned over and petted one of their leaves. He was vaguely translucent, though his touch did stir the leaves. As if they had been pushed by a small breeze.
“... And you just expect t’ stay here? You’ve messed with my stuff! My book—was that yer bookmark?”
“Oh, yes. I meant to replace it with your place, but I forgot. Deepest apologies.” He looked back to the farmer from the plants. His face was no longer painted with confusion, now more of a calm peace; he was like a still lake. “And what do you mean…. ‘Expect ‘t just stay here?’”, the ghost mimicked his accent. “Where would I go? I can’t necessarily leave…”
Kevin sputtered, spotting his hat on the ground and snatching it to place upon his head once more.
“I don’t know. But I do know you can’t just wander around, jester.” Kevin said, finally recognizing the familiarity of the ghost’s garb. He looked like a clown.
“Then, what will I do?”
It took a moment for Kevin to respond to that. What help on a farm could an apparition be? Eh, considering he could affect the physical world, that would at least be a little useful.
“You work here with me. I pay taxes on this estate, ‘n I work to keep it. Least you can do is help out.”
“I can’t stand farm animals…” the man scoffed, crossing his arms in rebellion.
“Well, that’s just too bad. I’ll go easy on you, then.” Kevin said, gesturing to the beds of vegetables. “You can do most ‘f your work here.”
The ghost then sighed, then nodded.
“Fine, then.”
“That’s good… Say, what’s your name?”
“Jose… Baden.” Jose hesitated.
“Nice t’ meet you, Mr. Baden. I’m Kevin.”