There's a Bat in My House

Click!

My access card activated, and I entered the storage area at my workplace, retrieving a long-forgotten tool necessary for the next stage of the ongoing project. I lower it into the toolchest, lock it up, and leave the premises. As I approach my car, a distant light catches my eye – a tiny meteor, perhaps? Astronomy was one of my passions as a kid.

After a long drive and handling incompetent traffic, I reached the tranquil roads of the countryside, pulling up to a quaint little bungalow with a dual garage. It was built by an old farmer long since passed, and bought and renovated by my dad and I. Pushing the door open and stepping inside, I hung up my cap and made a rush for the bathroom to scrub my greasy, stained hands and splash cool water on my dried-out face. Being a truck mechanic could make you look like a partially transformed zombie sometimes.

After changing into a V-neck sweatshirt and some slacks, I flopped down on the sofa, staring out at the wide cityscape that lay spread out on the horizon, millions of lights scattered like stars in a galaxy. I itched to turn on the TV and stream a movie but the low, yet noticeable rumble of my stomach prompted a trip to the kitchen. Pushing open the window, I let the cool breeze waft in from the field as my stomach twitched and buzzed at the sight of several fresh fruits in a big bowl on the dining table.

“Hmmm, I think a small-scale snacking will fit the bill better,” I thought, extracting a bag of grapes from the fridge. Snapping off a main branch, I plopped them into a bowl and thoroughly rinsed them under cool water. Reaching for the remote, I jabbed the red ON button. Then again, and again, only to have the stupid black screen glare right back at me.

“Bugger. Batteries must be dead,” I muttered, tossing the remote aside and firing out of the sofa. Why was such a simple task so troublesomely lengthy?

Pulling open a drawer, I ripped open an Energizer pack and extract two fresh AA batteries, then click them into the remote. I’m about to press the cover back onto the remote when a crash sound erupts from the kitchen. Had someone broken in, or did a bird just dumbly fly inside?

I gripped the remote and slowly exit the bedroom, inching closer to the kitchen and listening closely with each step. Peering around the corner, nothing was to be seen. I stepped forward and took a brief look at the window, noticing some tiny scrape marks on the sill. Interesting. A rodent, perhaps?

Turning around, I peeked in the sink – and got the ultimate visual shock. Lying on the sink grill, shaking, was a large bat… or not. Pausing to catch my breath from the initial fright, I leaned in slightly, staring closely at the creature and noticing several things are very off. Its body looked like that of a shrunken-down horse’s, only with chunkier legs and a guitar pick-shaped head. And the eyes… they were huge! At least, in comparison to the rest of the head. Was some evil scientist doing a weird genetic experiment down south or what?

Either way, I was not about to let this poor creature die. Slipping on a pair of gloves, I slowly reached into the sink, and the bat-pony cowered, rapidly shifting posture and flapping a wing.

“It’s alright. I won’t hurt you. Promise. I just need to get you out of here,” I whispered softly.

With gradual, calm patience, the little bat latched onto my fingers with its forehooves, which stuck like a tree frog’s. Supporting the body with my other hand, I gingerly lifted the bat up off the sink grill and onto the counter. It was fairly large – about the size of an average pet rat. I turned back around towards the window, when…

“Wait!” came a tiny voice, barely audible.

“AH!” I yelp, jolting and nearly dropping the poor creature. “It’s – I… you can t-t-talk?!” I sputtered, and the bat covered its little ears. Clearly our loudness ranges were vastly different.

Biting my lip to stifle the inner fright, I let out a soft sigh and reduced my voice to the softest whisper I could manage. “What is it?”

“Food…” the bat moaned, eyes bulging as it stared off towards the kitchen table, locked like a sniper. I turned to notice a plump ripe mango sticking out from the pile of fruit in the large bowl. Cradling the bat on my chest with one hand, I walked over to the table and pulled it out. Immediately the little bat started squirming, and I squeezed my grip on it.

“No, no,” I said firmly. “If you want this, you must be patient. One does not just take because one wants.”

I took an empty mop refill container and stuffed a clean rag in it, then gently lowered the bat into it.

“Wait here,” I ordered. “If you climb out, no fruit for you. Understood?”

A slight nod was given, and I responded with a smile before taking out a chef knife and a chopping board. With a few effortless slices and dices, the mango was transformed into a couple of rounded shells, a thin strip, and a pile of juicy, succulent yellow-orange cubes.

“You can come eat now. Follow me.”

I slid the diced mango into a glass bowl and walked over to the dining table. Within seconds the little bat had flown over and plopped down on the table in front of the bowl, emitting a slight screech (presumably of excitement) before eagerly gobbling up a little cube of mango. Then another.

“So, tell me little one,” I began, breaking off a banana from the bunch in the bowl, “where did you come from? What’s your name? What are you, anyway?”

“Um, my… my name is Elliot. I am a bat pony.”

I crouched down with my ear lobe against the table, listening closely. “A bat pony, huh? Sounds impossible – a hybrid of two animals. You look quite stocky and short for a pony – and about average size for a bat.”

With my warm smile radiating comforting vibes, Elliot continued, all while eagerly chowing down on his mango. “I… just… love… mangoes so much…”

I chuckled heartily. “Very evident indeed.”

“I come from the forest in the distance. Got separated from a group, but later reunited. Took tonight to find some food, and I smelt your fruit, and… kinda went insane.”

My head jolted back upright in the chair. “Hold on – group? There’s more of you?!”

Elliot nodded happily, and my eyes bulged a little. “Wow. I never knew such creatures existed around my surrounding area. Hope your friends are safe. I’m Cameron, but you can call me Cam.”

We finished up our fruit and I fired the banana and mango peels into a compost bin, then rinsed the bowl. Elliot flew right over to me and gripped my shoulder. I sighed and gently caressed a tuft of fur on his neck. Here I was, petrified of a bat, and within a quarter of an hour I felt a yearn to keep him as a soft cute little pet.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye,” I whispered with an empathic smile, lowering Elliot onto the kitchen windowsill. “Know you are welcome back any time after sundown. We can eat fruit together and maybe do some other cool stuff. Tell your friends they can come, too – just only three at a time, alright?”

Elliot clung to my hand, and I gave his chest a little tickle. “I certainly will. Thanks so much for the mango, Cam.”

“You’re most welcome. Just be cautious on the flight home with that stuffed belly of yours,” I teased.

Elliot blushed embarrassingly, and I waved after him as he leapt off the windowsill into the starry night sky. I slid the window shut, grabbed my remote, flipped on the living room lights, and settled into my comfy couch to watch the latest episode of my favorite show - Gotham.

As the ending credits rolled out, I shut off the lights and glanced towards the window. Perhaps I was a hero, too, in a way, for helping Elliot out of the sink and being nice by offering him my mango. A part of me now felt eager for the next day’s ending, where I could get to know my new little furry friend better, along with his friends, too. And just maybe, I might learn a lot more about the world around me in the process.

Author's Note:

Not officially "back" - just had some spare time and wrote this over the course of a week.

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