The nights are getting brighter up here in the north of England, throwing off my sense of time. I started writing the following scene last year after seeing bats in the woods at the fall equinox. In getting this post ready to share, I had to introduce some added creepiness. Enjoy!
Sipping mead in the soft light of a fire, the stress of the day melted away from Emmet’s shoulders. Leaning back against the fallen log, they stretched their legs out with a quiet groan. The mead was spiced, which helped as the sun faded and the cool night set in. There wasn’t much, but it was enough.
Shadows spread to fill the space around the fire. Emmet strained to ignore the sounds that came from the forest, intermittent and sourceless. They told themself it was just birds.
Come here…
Looking up at the space above the clearing, Emmet saw a small shape dart across the twilight sky. Craning their neck, Emmet nearly spilled mead from the flask watching for the creature.
Swift and agile, a bat flew in a loop in pursuit of insects Emmet couldn’t see. They thought there was something joyful about the way the bat, or bats, darted overhead. Emmet imagined bats as shadows made flesh, or the nightly counterparts of birds that sang in the morning sun.
Come here…
The mead had gone to their head. Emmet slowly drained the flask before closing their eyes and stretching some more. Their neck let out a satisfying crack that seemed to echo in the little clearing.
Emmet didn’t move, listening out for another noise. Once they started to listen, the noise seemed to grow, oppressive in its intensity. Pulse thudding in their ears, Emmet turned their gaze skywards. A single star shone bright. Emmet focused on the starlight and tried to relax, but the forest denizens kept moving and making noise.
“You should never have come here.”