A Murder of Bats

    I was walking down a dark street late Halloween night with two friends when we saw them. It was way after curfew, and no trick-or-treaters were still around. We saw a few people, but mostly everything was quiet. The moon, which would be full a few nights later, was bright, and the night was clear.

    As we walked, one of my friends, Jake, noticed something strange in the sky. He said, "Hey, guys...what is that?"

    We turned to look. "I think they're...bats?" said my other friend, Amy. She didn't sound convinced.

    Jake voiced that confusion. "What is a flock of bats doing here?" he asked.

    In my best horror-movie voice, I said, "That's not a flock. That's called a 'murder'."

    Amy gave me the look that meant "I wish you weren't such an idiot." Out loud, she said, "A 'murder' is crows, you moron. It's called a 'cloud' of bats."

    "Well, that's exactly what it looks like," said Jake.

    The cloud was still pretty far off, so we walked on, trying to forget about it. But I kept glancing towards the moon, and I knew that the dark shadow was getting closer and closer. Not too much later, we started to hear the disorders squeaking of the bats as they swooped in. "Guys," said Jake again, "I think we'd better get off the street!"

    We ran off to the side, and the cloud passed the spot where we'd been standing. A spilt second less warning and we would have been in the middle of the writhing, squeaking swarm. Just down the road was a guy with a roll of toilet paper in each hand, studying a house carefully. He didn't seem to notice the bats, but they noticed him.

    The cloud moved straight for him, and in seconds he was engulfed. I figured that being surrounded by bats would be scary as hell, but any bats in out area had to be fruit bats - scary, but harmless.

    I was proven wrong by an ear-piercing scream. The guy fell to the ground, trying desperately to craw away, but his attempts were getting weaker and weaker. After less than a minute, the screaming stopped, and the only noise on the street was the squeaking and flapping of the bats.

    Suddenly, as quickly as they had descended, the bats took off into the sky again. Their squeaks faded into the night, until they were totally out of sight once more.

    After glancing at one another in shock, we ran over to the body lying in the street. When we arrived, Jake let out a cry, and Amy leaned against me, hiding her eyes in my sleeve. The body had been nearly picked clean; only the bones were left, gleaming in the moonlight, with a few pieces of meat and skin hanging on here and there.

    I pulled Amy away from the sight and Jake followed. As we headed for home, I asked, "Are you sure it's not a 'murder of bats'?"

(498)