All serve the Queen. That is the way of life. You open your eyes, flap your wings and the first thought you have is for your mother and Queen. It dominates your entire existence for it is for her sake that the flowers bloom. Yet it is such a complicated thought. How do you really protect the Queen? How can you ensure the continuation of the Hive?
However, that is not for me to question. my job is to explore and take that leap. My job is to find more food for the Hive, no matter the perils. I have trained for such a thing since my own metamorphosis: from a weak and helpless grub to the majestic creature of yellow and brown that I now am.
It is uncommon for me to return to the Hive every day but there is a nagging feeling that something is wrong the hairs on my leg are standing up, it feels wrong, unnatural. Trying to shake the feeling I focus on the wind concentrating only on finding the scent of some new flowers. Success. I can smell it blooming flowers. As I follow the scent I try and shake the feeling of unnaturalness in my body, but it just will not stop.
I finally see them some of the most wonderful looking blues and whites I have ever seen. I slowly buzz forward lost in my thoughts. An Angry hum filled the surroundings.
“Well, well what have we got here” sneered what seemed to be just a bigger bee yet it seemed so cruel and the sun in the sky just seemed to reflect of its angular eyes. Its coloring seemed off for a bee though. From a vibrant gold, that caught the eye like a glimpse of metal in the midday sun to a dull Matte black that absorbed all that looked at it. Which just made the contrast seem even larger. “You seem to be wandering around on our turf little bee”.
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“Who… who are you this meadow is the Queens’ everyone knows that, even the Spiders know that” I stuttered.
“HA” mocked the not bee, its mandible clicking in delight “what Queen the one we killed”.
My hairs which previously seemed to ignore any and every attempt to relax wilted and seemed less vibrant than before.
“It can’t be” I mumbled “that’s impossible I only left the hive a few hours ago. The Queen can’t be dead” I need to go and save her with nothing not even a backwards glance I span around and flew with such urgency back to the hive that I was even flagged down by some of the more respectable members of the meadow and the surrounding areas like the butterflies who normally don’t do anything but look at themselves all day. What narcissists.
Over and over, I heard the not bee’s words in my head “your Queen is dead ““your Queen is dead “. But all that made me want to do was fly faster.
Then the pheromones started to appear on the wind words of warning and horror
“Run the wasps are here”
“Protect the Queen”
And then there was no more. Just an aching familiar smell of the past that now seemed so far away.
The hive was now empty filled with nothing but those I can now put a name to as wasps. The yellow which used to be so enchanting symbolized an end to my hive.
A view that caused horror lied in front of me thousands of my brethren lied twitching on the ground below me their bodies being systematically collected and bought inside. Turning away with despair at my inability to do anything I flew off leaving my home and my dead family. Flying away into the unknown.