The Great Comb
The field is a buzz with legend...
This story is courtesy of the Mini-Challenges at Creative.Inspired.Happy with Evelyn Skye. Thank you, Evelyn, for allowing me to share these little quick writings. This story, I must tell you, was a misunderstanding. I thought it was going to be the image below. I saw the image, and let my imagination wonder. I did dishes, cleaned house, questioned and wondered and thought… then I came back to write, and realized that this wasn’t the prompt at all. But I liked the little tale I’d come up with, so I wrote it anyway. Enjoy.
The Great Comb had been built, according to the prophecy that had been buzzed about for so many generations. The Tall Ones, who balanced about on a mere two legs, the thieves of wolf and cow skins, the weavers of plants, the drinkers of honey not meant for them; they had poisoned the dew drops, bricked the fields, fallen the trees, until there were more bees than flowers, and then more Tall Ones than bees. The neighboring hives that had once been a short flight in any direction, now seemed as empty as a bloom on the edge of winter.
But all that would soon change, so the prophecy said. The Regent Bee, queen of queens, as Tall as the Tall Ones themselves, would soon break from the Great Comb they had built, and bring nectar back to the woods, bees back to the hives, life back to nature. Even now, the workers and nursery bees began to buzz about the Great Comb.
I’d love to know what you think of this serendipitous story in the comments.
