FLASH FICTION - My Friends: The Bees, Wasps, and Hornets

First of all, let me just say that my husband is evil.  He's the one that left me that lovely title to use, and the punchline is that I willingly admit I have an irrational fear of bees, wasps, and hornets.  If I hear a buzz and can't immediately identify it as NOT one of those things, it's a threat and flinch, or freak out.  I'm not allergic or anything, just a little neurotic...

Anyway, I still managed to come up with something to go with the title, and I hope you like it.  It's a very new and different challenge for me, so I'm a little excited and nervous about it!  My friend had also left one and we were joking about some of the different directions I could take it, but instead of choosing between the two titles or writing up two short stories, I managed to weave one into the other.  Let me know what y'all think!


Ah the brilliant warmth and satisfaction of sunlight.  While in its rays, the hunger ebbs and we are content.  We are less content than usual though, for things are changing and fear has settled within us.  The humans that came here have destroyed the nests of wasps, they chase away the hornets, and the bees go elsewhere now.  So few come near us anymore.  There is a buzz over in the grass across the way.  Just yesterday, a human walked back and forth in front of the house talking to itself.  It kept looking at something in its hands and speaking aloud.  Something about being just as unhappy with the pathetic job as everyone else seemed to be for the human, but that it paid the bills?  It sounded funny, discontent, when it ended with “Love: Your Son, the Wrapper”.  We did not understand, for every job is important.  Our job is to look and smell pretty, and we do our very best, and it’s the job of the wasps and hornets to protect us from the herbivores that devour us, and the bees’ job is to carry our pollen away so more of us can grow and prosper.  But now, there are bees hovering around the very piece of paper the human dropped to the ground yesterday that now held something inside its crumpled edges that was so sickly sweet smelling that ants covered it.  Our seeds go nowhere, and some of us have been torn up by the grasshoppers and caterpillars that are no longer chased away and kept at bay by our protectors.  It’s getting colder now, and soon we will wither away.  If seeds are not spread, we will die out, become extinct!  As our panic grows, we hear the loveliest sound of a buzzing bee.  It came to one of us on the edge, and we were all happy to see it.  Maybe we aren’t doomed after all!  A human came out of the house we are rooted next to and walked to the contraption that made a loud noise and spewed foul smelling smoke.  Before it got in, it looked at the bee and took something rolled up and swatted at it, causing it to flee.  It mumbled something to itself, while we despaired.  Our future looked bleak.  What are we flowers to do without the help and security of our cherished friends…


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