LJ Idol // Week 24 // Bats in the Belfry

She stands, four feet away from the end of everything, looking up at the sky.
“Cerulean.”
She speaks the word out loud, and then giggles.
“Ce-ru-le-an.”
“Pretentious arse,” she whispers, and closes her eyes.

In the long grass, some distance away, you stand and watch her for a while.
You lick your lips and taste only the salt and the sea air.
Then, you ask the question:
“What are you doing up there?”

A pause, and you wonder whether you ought to have said anything at all.
She turns to look you in the eye.
“My belfry’s full,” she says. “Ain’t no space left for thoughts no more.”
“Sorry?” You ask, under the impression you’ve misunderstood.
“There’s a colony of bats clamouring to spread their wings inside my head.”
“Bats?”
She nods.
What do you say to that?

She turns back to the sky, holds out her arms, and then says: “I’m setting them free.”
“Oh,” you reply.
“The bats, I mean,” she says. “I got so good at building walls around my soul.”
Another pause, a momentary breath, and you become so aware of the complete absence of human sound.
“The problem,” she continues, “is if you build a wall, you build a crevice, and in a crevice lies a bat.”
“Oh,” you say again. And then, “Do I have bats?”
“Do you have walls?” She asks.
You do not answer.