Tears streamed down my face, disappearing into the earth below as I hugged my knees, stifling sobs. The evening sky resembled a bruise, while the distant buzz of bees echoed like a whirlwind. Shivering in the cold, I examined my frostbitten fingers with curiosity.
Struggling to steady myself, I ventured outside, narrowly avoiding the swarm of bees without a single sting. Their timeless existence struck me as comical as my tears froze on my cheeks. Amidst confusion, I laughed at the irony of crying over a dream about bees.
Famished and weary, I trudged towards a nearby shack, pondering its inhabitability. Despite my attempts to warm my mind, the coldness persisted, leaving me to navigate my bleak reality.
I stepped inside, half-expecting to find the gingerbread woman from the tale of Hansel and Gretel. The quaint coral-shell pink interior held a broken chair in one corner and a small table in the other, with a lone window offering a view of the tangled brush-forest outside.
Spotting a bundle of cloth tucked into the rafters, I couldn't resist my curiosity. Retrieving it, I found myself holding a weathered brown burlap coat, thick and warm, instantly soothing against the chill air. As it enveloped me, warmth flooded through me, dispelling the blueness from my fingers.
"Thank you," I whispered to the unseen shopkeeper, mentally preparing to negotiate a price.
"A million ancient bees," came the sly reply, instantly revealing his intentions.
Despite the outrageous demand, I couldn't resist the allure of the coat. We struck a deal, sealing it with a handshake and payment in imaginary bees.
Emerging from the shop, I waved farewell, eager to return to the bee farm. The incessant buzzing greeted me, exacerbating my headache and reminding me of my empty stomach.
Turning to my new coat for comfort, I found myself pondering the feasibility of consuming bees for sustenance, only to be met with a resolute shake of its head.
A sudden pain in my hand drew my attention, the result of an unexpected encounter with a glass bee concealed in my pocket. Chuckling at the irony, I realized the warmth of the coat had distracted me from my hunger.
With a newfound sense of contentment, I placed the glass bee on a nearby shelf, symbolizing the countless bees exchanged for the coat.
Despite the lingering ache in my belly, I settled onto the scratchy fabric, finding solace in its warmth, even if it wasn't the most comfortable option.
I nestled into the corner of the shack, less comfortable but warmer nonetheless.
Gazing up at the ceiling adorned with intricate bee carvings, I couldn't shake the sensation of bees haunting my every thought, even in the darkness. It was a torment, especially since I couldn't enjoy honey due to my allergy.
Closing my eyes, I found no solace as my mind was overrun by dreams of swarming bees, crawling through my veins and tormenting my every sense. The image of the ceiling teeming with countless bees settling in for the night only intensified my unease.
Huddling under my coat, clutching a small glass bee as if it were a lifeline, I surrendered to the relentless buzzing, allowing myself to be enveloped by their presence in the silent, frozen night.
