Esther - Part Four

 Esther - Part four 

Part four - it's been a little while since I last updated the story. Life has been hectic, mentally. I've been struggling with what I want to write about recently and I'm hoping getting this story out of me will help. Esther has swam around my head for years and it's a story that I keep coming back to. Hopefully, she'll leave some room in my brain once she's told her story. 

Enjoy!

I climbed carefully over the gate, and stepped forward, further into the little walled courtyard. It was deserted, except for a pile of sandbags in the left corner. The concrete floor was almost ribbed, and dry, hay coloured mud was sprinkled between the rungs. Horse shoe imprints littered a pathway to my right, I followed it, clip-clopping with my tongue. Rounding the corner, the big barn door swung open and closed in the wind, making a heavy thud each time. The big hinges were rusty and one of them was popped open, letting the door lean clumsily forwards. I stepped forward tentatively, the door groaned as I leant into it, pushing it to one side so I could peer in. A strong stench and intense heat rushed past me to get out of the gap I’d widened, along with a swarm of flies. 

    Stepping back I prepared myself again.

    Inside were rows of tall ledges, on which cardboard boxes occupied different corners, like rows of uneven, ageing houses. To my right sat a table, propped up by magazines and catalogues where one of the legs was missing. I slowly weaved my way through the barn, starting at the makeshift desk, and looping between the stacks of broad, wooden shelves. The mud-coated floor beneath me broke away in places to reveal the concrete-grey underneath, a sprinkling of leaves crunched under my shoes. Each set of tall shelves had about a metre’s room between each shelf, each was caked in dust and hay and big sheets of dirty fabric. I used one of the sheets to push aside all of the mess on one of the lower shelves and lay down on it. The barn was dark, the pale light failed to push its way through the glass-less windows. I dug my torch out of my bag and hung it from the shelf above me and lay on my back.

Are these instalments too small? 

Probably. 

Ellen Victoria