We have been writing inspired by beekeeping at Wick Court from the perspective of a bee inside the hive. How will you interpret this week’s prompt?
We have been writing inspired by beekeeping at Wick Court from the perspective of a bee inside the hive. How will you interpret this week’s prompt?
“Nooooo!!!”
The cry echoed into the glimmering night sky as one solitary bee knelt in prayer, hidden by the long grass. She was sobbing, great racking gasps letting loose an endless flow of hot, salty tears. The scene was truly pitiful. Her name was Six Tytwo, and she resided in #3B, her only comfort a drone, Five Oh-Oh. Her life hung on his fuzzy self – but now that dear, darling figure had disappeared completely from her life. There was nothing she could do. She dare not question the Queen’s authority, no, it would put her sad life in jeopardy…
There’s no space in the hive. Everyone working, getting pollen for the queen. Every corner I turn I bump into someone. Every day more bees are born, so many working together. It is amazing, all the pollen being turned into honey. I am the only bee who enjoys working for the queen. The others say it is too hard, but I enjoy the repetition and rhythm of the work. It is terrifying when something cracks open the lid and scoops us out! Who would do such a thing? I have never been taken, I hope it will stay that way.
Buzzzzz… that was all I could hear as I clambered towards the exit of the hive; I was finally out in the fields flying over the luscious grass. Suddenly out of nowhere I started to smell smoke coming from the orchard so I flew over to look and saw a blaze of flames and giant creatures putting it out. Then I remembered what I was out for – pollen! I zipped towards the nearest apple tree and grabbed as much as I could and then started back. I zoomed in and out of trees, through bristling bushes and over towering blobs to get back home and inside the hive.
I hurriedly rubbed off my pollen and zoomed back towards the hive, the greyish gas billowing out into the crystal clear sky, I have to save the Queen. As I closed in on the hive I saw them, the huge stomping monsters, ripping the roves off our homes and holding them up for display as some kind of sick, gruesome trophy.
One of the smaller beings screamed and ran away when I landed on its single, glaring eye. I desperately struggled to navigate my way through the thick smog and the waxy corridors of the hive. Where was the Queen? …