A warm blanket on a despairing night
The Bat Cave
- Originally posted on a 6s community, August 17, 2010 at 1:02pm
The caravan rumbled over the road, rocks popping under wheels and a mist of chalky red dirt rising as a burnt offering. The pungency of all that limey clay met each one’s memory aloft in the dreamy consciousness in which humans bury themselves in times of trouble: was it horse riding or was it teenage wanderlust or might it have been the ultrafine uptake on the baseball field that triggered so keen an emotion?
City boys eyed country cows with deference while the visual and aural captivated country and city alike. Ears strained through crunching prairie grasses for the rattler’s siren call, and onward ran the caravan on foot and hand and claw.
The dusky sun bade fond farewell to the sojourners as they watched the whirlpool of millions of bats drain into the airborne river of nightly feast. The scene mirrored so many hearts in a reflection of a life so fragile, and the travelers saw the upside-down reality of their right-side-up fantasy; joy and mourning met in the middle.