Have you ever been so scared you couldn’t scream? Have you been terrified to the point the only sound coming from your mouth is a measly raspy gasp?
Well, that’s what happened to me Thursday night.
I was minding my own business, reading a book from the comfort of my Lazy Boy recliner, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a moving shadow. Within seconds this thing — this flying mammal — invaded my personal space. My book went flying — and not on purpose!
Please don’t say that three-letter word. I don’t want to hear THAT word … not the one that rhymes with cat. A cat I can tolerate — any cat — just not a flying b… blech!
If there is anyone who cannot handle a bat (shudder) in the house, it is me — my editor even agrees. My anxiety should not be tested to these limits!
In all honesty, the creature moved so quickly I couldn’t positively identify it. Therefore, I’m choosing to tell myself it was a mourning dove. Yes, a mourning dove entered my house through some yet undiscovered locale.
I mean, who is scared of a mourning dove? Not me.
After a brief moment of panic and inaudible screaming, I watched as the creature flew from the living room to the dining room, then back toward my home office, only to turn around and head straight for me. My book — the one I picked up from the floor — became my shield.
When it flew toward the kitchen, I rushed across the room and closed my bedroom, bathroom and office doors. As the creature circled back to the living room, I then went to the kitchen, reached for the back door and propped it open. I lit up the hallway and kitchen and returned to the dining room.
The nasty critter (co-worker Karl says to think of it as a rat with wings — it didn’t help) was flapping around in the corner near my TV. He took one more dive for me before moving into the kitchen.
I waited a few seconds before daring to enter the domain, and after checking all of the walls and ceiling, I quickly pulled the back door shut, turned out the lights and locked myself in the bedroom. There was no way I was leaving the safety of my room until morning — and then it was only to get to my cell phone and text my oldest brother dearest.
I take back all of the times I ever said I hated having three brothers and no sisters while growing up. Brothers — particularly the one that lives the closest — will stop by after working the night shift to check out my house.
Kudos to Kevin for inspecting every nook and cranny, every basement rafter, every brick of the chimney and even the upstairs — to ensure the b-a-t (shudder) was gone and there weren’t others lurking about.
That was this morning.
Now, I’m scared to go home.