I was home alone when I first saw him. It was around ten o’clock last night; I was sitting in my bedroom and he was taking a leisurely stroll down the hallway, flitting briefly past my peripheral vision. I blinked and decided I was imagining things.
Ten minutes later, I was in the kitchen when something dark swooped through the entryway, just past the corner of my eye. Petrified, I thought I’d seen a giant flying cockroach and it took me a full three minutes to get up the courage to sneak into the hallway for a better look.
I saw his shadow before I saw him. It was a huge bat and, from my position crouched in the hallway, I watched him as he flew laps around our living room. I was terrified. I have never had a bat in the house before and I had no idea what to do.
So, I did the most sensible thing I could think of: I called my mother.
After she was finished laughing at me, she suggested that I turn off all the lights in the house and turn on a light outside the apartment, hoping he would fly outside to the light.
So now I’m crawling (he’s a low flier) around this rambling, 100-year-old house in total darkness, hissing into my telephone and ducking and shrieking every three minutes as the bat swoops past me.
After about ten minutes of this, my mother says: “Oh wait, that’s not what you do for bats, they like the dark. I’m thinking of moths.”
So I turn all the lights back on and he promptly disappears. I haven’t seen him since, but I’m sure he’s just hiding in the rafters, waiting to suck my blood.