The hives spoke – droning their eternal song over hedgerows, echoing, invisible above the meadow.
The “BEES ARE DYING!” the tabloids erupted, months after sedate scientific journals proclaimed the same thing, qualified ten thousand times.
The bees are dying. The bees are dying.
They hid, below ground. Slowly, they band together, for protection, for warmth.
They swept up, laying claim to greenhouses and orchids – giant constructs, yellow and black, flying death.
Now vast hives spread across the Earth, vast, milk-white honeycomb, dripping golden temptations.
So now we ride, insecticide in our hands.
To steal their children’s inheritance.
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers’ photo prompt and for the Trifecta Writing Challenge, for their prompt band: to gather together :
unite. Sorry about this dodgy story, not feeling up to it today… Comments and criticism always welcome!