It was a large three-storey place… sort of like an old plantation house from years ago… not that she had ever seen such a place… but her imagination was good.
The place had three floor levels… several attic rooms… and even a tower.
It was just one storey high… but it was still a tower with a steep, pointed roof… and a weathervane on its high pointed tip.
The ground level was surrounded by a porch… with a roof up over it that was supported by carved posts.
Portions of waist-high railing still existed between the posts in some places.
The lower edges of the second floor windows were level with the porch roof and… she wondered how many times they had been used by teenagers… sneaking out for a clandestine rendezvous.
It was an easy drop to the grass below for an athletic young person… or maybe they had climbed down one of the large trees that touched the roof in places.
Plenty of windows on the third floor as well… and windows up over that where the house had several different peaks… most likely used for storage.
In fact, she was of the opinion that if someone did the math… close to fifty percent of the exterior of the place probably consisted of glass.
Then there was the tower… sitting there like a square box on top of one of the roof peaks… windows on all four sides… in addition to the dormer windows.
Every night, her walking route took her past the house… and she could hear the soft fluttering of wings as dozens of bats flew through the night air close to the place.
She felt sure they slept in the tower by day… and perhaps in the peaked attic spaces too… perhaps, they occupied the entire place. That’s why she always thought of it as The Bat House.
Whatever paint – if any – had been on the outside was long gone… leaving a surface colour of various shades of grey… decorated here and there by patches of green moss and climbing ivy.
It was nothing short of miraculous that all the windows appeared to be intact… no broken panes to be seen from her observation point… she couldn’t see the back.
She often wondered what it was like inside… if remnants of dark, flowered wallpaper hung from the walls… or if it had been painted during its last years of occupation… and she had no idea how long ago that was.
She thought about going inside… frequently… but… in her mind’s eye she could picture the bats… hanging in clusters from the old-fashioned beams… the chandeliers with candles… and every place they could find a place to hang from.
And something else… bats have poor eyesight, so… in a confined space… trying to navigate around her long, thick, curly hair… well… just the thought made her shiver.
Sometimes… when she was absorbed in looking at the place… she imagined hearing a whisper behind her and… slowly turning around… to find a figure dressed in black… complete with a high-collared cape… watching her with fiery eyes…
Then she would turn and walk quickly back the way she had come… to the safety of her own home.
Curiously, despite the outward appearance of abandonment… and the presence of so many bats… when she paused near the entrance… she had the strangest feeling that she was being watched.
At one time there was a sign at the front of the house… warning people not to go inside because it was unsafe.
Well… that made sense, considering that no one seemed to know how old the place was… or anything about previous owners.
Apparently, the original owner – or builder – was unknown as well… it had simply been there as long as anyone could remember.
A few years ago, the oldest man and the oldest woman in town… both of whom had grown up there… were asked if they knew anything about the house.
They both said the house had been there… looking pretty much as it does now… when they were growing up.
Neither of them was aware of anyone ever living there during their lifetime… it had always seemed to be empty and looked pretty much as it does now.
Sometimes… obviously a trick of the moonlight… the attic window at the front of the house – facing the road… seemed to glow with a dim light.
She told herself it was nothing… no one could live there… it’s not safe for occupation… at least not for anything except the bats – and most likely – lots of bugs!
Not even a homeless person would be desperate enough to seek shelter there.
Oh yes… there was no question that her imagination was good… in fact… sometimes it was almost too good.
She could easily imagine things that didn’t exist… and work herself into such a frenzy that she ended up with a panic attack.
But there was one thing that she did not imagine… what others thought – and probably said – about her… and she had to admit that they were generally right.
She knew she spent too much time inside her own head… but when her thoughts drifted… and her imagination kicked into high gear… there was no other place she’d rather be.
And still she wondered… what was inside the Bat House.
