It woke me up with its buzzing. I was barely asleep when I heard his high-pitched (what seemed like) screaming and the continual bashing his tiny body against the window. I tried to ignore it, like I was trying to ignore the fact that the day had been a difficult, edgy one. It was impossible. I went to get him in the end and he dealt with the being. I didn’t want him to kill it. But it seemed like there was no choice. It wouldn’t fly out. It was my fault, though I didn’t do the deed, it was my responsibility. I wanted peace, I wanted to sleep. I didn’t afterwards, not for a long time. My dis-ease had taken a life. I am sorry. Really.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.