Return To Glastonbury

This is my entry to Bruce Bethke's Friday Challenge for 1/15/09

Return to Glastonbury
by snowdog

This is it, I'm dying. Three of my six legs are broken, my wings are useless and worst of all, the stinger from one of those Killers protrudes from my abdomen, filling my system with toxin. I can only lie here on my back and listen to the buzzing in my head.

The coming of the Africanized Killers was foretold in the Wax Prophesies which date back to our beginnings on the European continent. Their arrival was to be a sign that we should follow the ancient ley lines back to Gastonbury Tor, to alight on the edge of the Holy Grail and to taste of the Healing Wine. Glastonbury is the place where the First Queen took flight. It's our destiny to be renewed there before we return to our toil which men find so useful.

I laugh bitterly as I recall the first time I heard the term Colony Collapse Disorder, as if we were being killed off by pesticides or that great hoax called Global Warming--heck, I wish it were warmer! The flowering season would be extended, our pollen collection would-- well, that's not important now. Time is short. The toxins must be affecting my brain.

No, it's not Colony Collapse Disorder. It's war! The humans don't seem to notice that aerial combat surrounds them, although to be fair, much of it happens at higher altitudes, just above the trees. That is most dangerous place to be a bee.

I remember the day the killers arrived. I was making a meal of some particularly nice Begonias, sipping the sweet nectar and getting that sticky yellow stuff all over my legs. It was so warm that afternoon, I began lingering inside each flower and fanning my wings to cool down before leaping into the air again to move on to the next bloom. It's strange how you don't know how great life is until it changes.

As I flew between the carefully spaced plants, a worker named Tzue fell past me to the ground. I buzzed down next to her to see what was amiss, but she had already gone silent and still. Then I heard the ungodly noise overhead. There were only three Killers, but I could only watch in horror as they latched on to another of my fellows in mid-air and drop him into the damp mulch. Jeek brought one of the buggers down with him, though, as the stinger failed to disengage.

I jumped into the air above the garden and moved as inconspicuosly as I could, ducking behind leaves and fence posts until I was out of their sight. Then I made a beeline for the hive, ignoring the countless pink blossoms below me. The Queen would know what do to. I had only get past the guards.

It took some time and lot of phermone, but I convinced them of the danger and the four of them escorted me into the Royal Chamber. It took me several minutes to describe what was going on and to relay the deaths of Tzue and Jeek. She listened and wiggled her antennae in that way the does when she's agitated. She called her guards and had two of them escort me to the South Garden, where I had seen them.

The two remaining Killers engaged the guards. It was a good fight, but when the guards had fallen one Killer still remained. It was an act of war our colony as was foreseen a thousand years ago.

Again, staying low to expose myself as little as possible, I made it back to the hive to relay the news to my highness. I was right. She knew just what to do. Within the hour, she had named a list of fifty-two workers, myself included, to seek the ley lines that would return us to Glastonbury Tor. I worried for her, but I could see in her multi-faceted eyes that she had already sacrificed her life for the colony. It was all done but the deed itself.

It was up to Irne's sense of the lines--a hatchling skill only few of us possess--to get us going in the right direction. I knew that other colonies would soon be sending their own swarmquests, if they hadn't already. It was possible that our brothers and sisters in Europe had already been wise to the Killers and were sipping from the Grail even as we departed. Presumably, only a single pair of workers need drink to fulfill the prophesy, one male and one female, but we couldn't take the chance.

We were ambushed somewhere near the west coast, just as we were going to make that Northward turn toward what the humans like to call Alaska. I tell you there were three thousand Killers if there was one. We fought valiantly for our colony and for our all honeybeedom, but in the end, we were lost. Finally, one of the Killers wrapped his forward legs around me and buried his stinger straight through my belly.

I can feel the toxins clouding my mind now. My vision has gone blurry and purple, like looking at the sun from the inside of a Wysteria bloom on a windy day. I think of my Queen and her many children. May one of us reach Glastonbury Tor and bring Renewal...

Workin' Them Angels Overtime

This is my entry for Bruce Bethke's Friday Challenge for 12/26/08

Workin' Them Angels Overtime
by snowdog

Herald slid his time card into the machine and was finally able to relax a bit when the kachunk! pronounced him off-duty. He glanced at the stamp on the card: JAN 1 1998 0300.

"Hey, you're blocking the line!" A finger poked him hard on the neck.

Herald glanced behind. A towering bearded angel stood close, grinning mischieviously as he continued to poke him with a thick finger. He stood at least six-foot-five with a broad strudy build. His sword was slung over his right shoulder, protruding down between his wings and back.

"Hi, Joshua," Herald said, letting out a sigh as he picked up his own sword and duffle bag.

"What's wrong, dude?" Joshua asked. He stepped forward and punched his own time card. "You look like you got them guardian angel blues." He held the card close to his face and silently mouthed the date and time to himself, as if memorizing.

"I don't know, man. Well, it's snowdog."

Joshua slid the card into the wall-mounted rack and motioned for Herald to lead the way to the lockers. "You're having trouble with snowdog? Didn't you brag a few years back about how easy he was to take care of?"

"Yes, well, that was before..."

"Before..." Joshua prompted.

Herald shook his head and sighed again. "He doesn't believe in us anymore. And since that happened, he's become..," he struggled for the word, "reckless, taking more chances with his life than ever. I think the irony escapes him."

Folding his wings back, Joshua sat on a wooden bench in front of his locker and set about removing his sneakers. "Sounds serious," he said tossing the left shoe behind him. "I'm guessing he partied in the New Year last night?"

Herald nodded. "You could say that."

"Details, Harry. I need details!"

"He started right after work. His boss always gets a ride home with him, but this time they bought a keg and talked a bunch of co-workers into meeting them out in a dark field, just outside of town."

Joshua snorted and tossed the right sneaker over his shoulder. "Eh, so he pounded a few beers. You outta see my guy."

Herald gave an sarcastic laugh and continued. "No, not a few beers. A lot of beer. I quit counting when he drove that huge boat of a pickup back to the store for another case."

"Out driving, huh. Asking for trouble."

"They all sat drinking for hours, right up until about 11 pm. Then his boss talked him into driving them both to a friend's house for a party. Snowdog was very drunk at this point. On the trip there, his nose kept running, and having no hankerchief, he would wipe it on the back of his hand and wrist as he drove."

"Yuck! Man, even I wouldn't do that."

Herald was lost in the horrible memory now. "When they got to the party, snowdog stretched his hand out to the host and noticed that it was covered with streaks of blood. His nose hadn't been running after all."

"No, man, you're making that up!"

Herald ignored the accusation. "It didn't really matter to anyone. That's when the bottle of rum came out. And this where gaps will start appearing in his memory of the evening, I suspect. Snowdog didn't have a lot of experience with hard liquor up to last night. The party itself was a blur. He'll remember the little kid running around among the wasted adults. He'll remember seeing the Ben Fold's Five video to "Brick"... strange details, but no real events or conversations."

"I'm afraid to ask how he got home." Joshua had all but forgotten about changing clothes.

"Sometime around 2 am, his disbelief attracted some hellhounds. There were four of them, so I had my hands full trying to stop them. While I wasn't looking, he climbed into that huge Dodge Ram and started the thirty minute trek homeward. Fortunately for everyone, he lives out in the woods. There was almost no traffic. Strangely, his motor skills were still partially intact. But he spent some time driving in the oncoming lane, just because he could. And then he switched off his headlights for a while and drove by moonlight. I've never been so scared in my life."

"I can imagine."

"Then he thought about the unattended little boy at the party and started sobbing uncontrollably."

"He what?"

"He cried like a baby the rest of the way home. He'll realize tomorrow that hard booze messes with his head. I'm hoping he'll come to his senses in some other ways."

Joshua shook his head. "That's rough, man. But it's not like you'll ever quit this job. We've worked together for a long time, and you have more years in than I do."

"No, I guess I won't quit. But I'll make damned sure he never does anything like that again."