1. Short Story/Memoir Requested for Public Reading for Muse
Screams
“Ahhhhh! EAK! HELP! “ With these and other inaudible cries of horror, I was
awakened from my slumber. By the tone of it I could tell sheer terror had overtaken
our old Victorian home.
The hallway between our bedrooms clamored with activity. People were
being thrown into walls. Doors slamming. My mother yelling, “Get away from me!”
Grandma Jo sobbing, “Not my hair, not my hair!” My father and grandfather making
violent grunts as they tried to save their wives.
I lay in my bed, wide-eyed and still as if paralyzed, listening to the screams of
men and women. What is going on outside of my room? I thought to myself. My
thought is a whisper, for I have no desire to alert any perpetrators to my existence.
Minutes pass, “Frank! Frank!” my mother cried. I realized it must be a fire!
And everyone was trapped upstairs. I had to get out of there! My newborn brother
Josh shared a room with me. What should I do to save us? First, I had to see what
was happening with the others. I place my hands on the door to feel for heat. It was
cool to the touch. I slowly opened the door and proceeded with caution.
I stepped one foot in the hallway and my mother screamed and pointed at
me, “Get back in your room, get back in your room and keep the door shut!” I quickly
dragged my foot back on the yellow shag carpet in my room and shut the door.

2. About two seconds passed. There was too much excitement, I had to find out
what was going on. I opened the door. The group of adults rushed into my room. My
mom pointed to a corner of the ceiling over my bed, “It’s right there!”
I didn’t see anything. “What?” I ask. “A bat!” my mom replied passionately.
The bat sensed the activity and soared into flight again. I rushed into the hallway,
tying to follow it. It swooped down right at Grandma Jo. She quickly crouched down
and covered her head. “My hair! My Hair!” she cried again. It was her only glory
being a Mennonite.
Wow! I had to alert my brother, Willie. He would appreciate the excitement.
As soon as I opened the door to his room, the bat fluttered in. Willie sat straight up
in bed looking like an angel, huge dark blue eyes and a halo of blond curls. “Don’t
hurt him,” he said, “he’s my friend.” He gently lay back down and fell fast asleep.
Then I started chiming, “Be careful! Don’t hurt him, we can have him as a pet.”
At this point, the bat was trapped in Willies’ room where a small nook lead to
the widows peak.
Worried about the safety of the animal, I begged my dad to let me help catch
him. He agreed. We covered our heads in motorcycle helmets, mine was sparkling
blue and my dad’s was designed with the American flag. We put on moon boots and
grabbed a garbage bag and a broom.
My dad opened the door a crack, I followed close behind like a shadow. He
nudged the broom to graze the space between the ceiling and wall. Foiled again! The
bat fluttered out of the room and down the hall.

3. What were we to do? The adults decided to call the Algonac Police
Department for backup, knowing that this would be the only action they would see
for weeks. I decided to check on Josh.
I opened the door to my room. The bat fluttered in. My mother walked in
slowly with deliberate steps and picked up Josh who was not disturbed from his
slumber and instructed me to say out of my room.
Finally, the police arrived. They walked up the creaky, windy stairs, and
headed to my room. They slowly opened the door. Willie awoke, excited that the
police were in our house. We kept vigil in his room. We both became very
concerned when they drew their pistols before walking into my room. The door was
open behind them and we could see everything. They aimed their guns at the bat,
who was still hanging in the same corner of my room. The bat fluttered away again!
The bat did not return again that night. But we did periodically see him
throughout our life. You could hear him scratch behind the walls in the back
bedroom. We never got the police involved again.
Requested work for public reading hosted by the Muse Writers Center
December 2011