this started as a potential heart scene and then it wasnt

The air is heavy in the summer sunset, carrying with it the humidity of a hot day in a coastal town and the dying echoes of the cicadas in the trees, endlessly praising the sun. The echo of somebody making a beat on empty wine barrels and cheese boxes can be heard from the trail back to the farm, and it isn’t hard to find the source.

One of the farmhands sits at the mouth of the small cavern on the property, and a number of bats hang above her, flapping their wings gently or squeaking at each other. A couple of them are watching you, but not enough to cause a stir among the colony.

She doesn’t seem to notice you yet. Her head is bobbing to a tune you can’t hear. After a moment or two, lyrics start. They’re familiar to you, something written before you were born. You might have heard it a few times before on the radio, you’re not sure, but you can feel the synths where none currently exist. Her voice cuts through the thick summer air, clear as crystal in the quiet of the resting day. The bats stick around above her, and a few even join their little pod.

It’s difficult not to get wrapped up in it, which startles you when the song stops, the bats all at once launch from their roost, and speaking begins.

“They like to stop and listen before they fly off to collect food.”

She’s looking at you now, seemingly unsurprised by your presence. Almost as if she always knew you were there.

“When I first got hired here, I was a bit out of sorts. Ashamed of myself, homesick. Worried about my mom… well, I guess performing has always been something I enjoyed, and I would have done anything to not go back to the sorry state I was in. I don’t usually use percussives though, heh… but I guess I just started using whatever I had on hand. It’s no replacement for the strings, but… I still have to get that shipped here.”

She shrugs a bit and laughs, though it’s a sad laugh.

“It started with just one or two, but… more started to join them after a day or two. Wasn’t hard to notice. Fuzzy little shits aren’t very subtle at all. You wouldn’t be either, if you navigated by screaming. I figured, they must appreciate it somehow, even though I’m not sure how… so I kept doing it.”

She stands up from her seat – a mossy rock that you’re a bit surprised hasn’t been cleared out yet – and heads toward a cabin further off on the property with its lights on. “Now come on. We should let them do their work. It’s time for dinner, anyway.”