Blind as a Bat

By Cadi Murphy

Most students went home for the holidays, but not us boys at the Reformatory School for Troubled Young Monsters. We had to stay and face the longest, hardest exam of the whole year. That’s what we got for being little criminals.

The morning of the exam, I went to the library, a jar of spiders tucked in my satchel. My newest friend hung upside down from a shelf containing more dust and shadows than books. Could the tiny brown bat see my fanged grin as I held up the jar?

“Morning, Kitty! Found you some breakfast.”

I tapped the spiders onto the floor, settled into a wingback chair, and pulled a textbook from my bag. Kitty swooped for a spider. With her big ears and wrinkled nose, she was mostly cute and only slightly terrifying.

A voice snarled behind me. “What’s this?” Mister Crockett loomed above my chair, a sneer curled around his fangs. Kitty shot off.

Trying not to gulp, I held up Proper Etiquette for the Modern Monster. “Just studying, sir.”

The old vampire glowered. “You know the rules, boy. No pets allowed!”

I feigned surprise, blinking through the glass of my specs. “What pet, sir?”

“Oh, no!” Crockett rattled his finger at me. “You’ll not squirm out of this one. I just watched you feed your pet bat. Don’t deny it.”

“But I haven’t got a pet bat,” I said. “You must’ve seen one of the strays that gets in sometimes.” That much was true. I’d been winning Kitty’s trust over the last month. Crockett had nothing on me, and we both knew it. I flashed my fangs in a cheeky grin.

That was my mistake.

Crockett’s talons lashed at my face. I jerked back, but his fingers hooked my specs and snatched them away.

My vision blurred. Crockett’s face was a pale oval with dark holes in place of eyes, but his harsh laugh rang clear. “I know what I saw, you sorry excuse for a vampire!” A swift movement. Snap. “Now what will you see?”

His footsteps faded as his shadowy form shrank between bookshelves.

I knelt and searched the ground for my broken specs. My hands shook with surging rage. How was I supposed to take the exam? Any student who didn’t pass would get special tutoring from the headmaster. “Special tutoring” included tidying his office, shining his shoes, cleaning his personal lavatory, and other tasks that were indistinguishable from slavery. Crockett had sealed my fate.

Maybe I could use the shards. I swept my hands over the floor again.

Nothing.

Footsteps approached. I squinted up at the muddled figure’s head, just a blur of silver. “That you, Vespian?”

“No, Eamon. I’m the headmaster, clearly.” My werewolf friend’s tone betrayed the grin I couldn’t make out on his face. “What’re you doing down there?”

“Looking for my specs. Crockett broke them.”

Vespian crouched beside me. “I don’t see them anywhere. Think he took them?”

“If he did, I’m done for!” I clenched my teeth. “I don’t have another pair. I’ll have to write Father for new ones, but that won’t help me with the exam!”

Vespian’s hairy hand squeezed my shoulder. “One of the boys will have an idea. We won’t let you fail. Stay here while I go find everyone.” He left, and the library fell silent.

I wanted to believe him, but every passing second ticked us closer to the exam. Unable to do anything except try to tamp down my frustration, I crawled back into the chair.

My classmates entered the library in blurs. Each boy attempted a solution to my problem. We tried a spyglass, a torchlight, and someone even crafted makeshift specs using the bottoms of various bottles. Nothing worked. A few offered their own specs, but my sight was so bad that none helped much.

“It’s almost time,” someone said. “Shall we walk you to the classroom, Eamon?”

I squinted at the nearest blob. “Where’s Vespian?”

Nobody knew.

I pinched my bottom lip under my fangs.  “Go ahead, everyone. I can get there on my own.”

As their footsteps retreated, I picked up my satchel. Did I have a pen in there? I reached into the bag, but it was a murky abyss. The empty spider jar knocked against my fingers. No pen.

What did it matter? Even if I had something to write with, I’d never be able to finish the exam. I was doomed.

Footfalls pounded, followed by Vespian’s voice. “Eamon! Close your eyes.”

“Where’ve you been?” I held out my satchel. “Do you see my pen in here?”

He growled. “Close. Your. Eyes.”

When a werewolf growls, you don’t growl back. I sighed and shut my lids. After so much straining, the darkness soothed my eyeballs.

Thin wires slid over my ears, and a slight pressure rested on the bridge of my nose. Had he made some specs? We’d already tried that.

Holding back another sigh, I blinked my eyes open. The silver hairs on Vespian’s face came into focus. He winked and pointed at my satchel. My pen leaned against the jar, taunting me.

I traced the specs’ frames with my finger. They were mine, every curve familiar except for a strange, sticky patch on the nosepiece. “How…?”

Vespian shoved his hands into his pockets. “I found them in the waste bin in Crockett’s office. He’d snapped them in half, but a bit of paste and a bandage on the nose… Will they work? Think you can take the exam?”

I smiled. “And now I’ll get a better grade than you.”

Kitty fluttered to her shelf and wrapped her tiny wings like a blanket. A sly grin curved Vespian’s lips. “Y’know, Crockett would be upset if a stray bat left dung in his office.”

I tapped my specs. “I see what you’re saying.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cadi Murphy has been spotted in public dressed as characters from her own imagination. Not only this, but her practices also include writing, editing, and excessive amounts of dreaming. Anyone who catches this elusive introvert, last seen in the wilds of Central Florida, is encouraged to report the sighting on Facebook or Instagram and to visit her website for more information about her exploits.

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