Chapter 2
"Hanner"
There is a certain satisfaction waking up to the scent of coffee that you have picked, roasted in the sun, and ground for your own family. I smell the coffee because my husband has included it on my breakfast tray....
The tray contains all the best ingredients my island has to offer. There are fresh eggs, from the free range chickens, Orange Juice,( the west side of the island has a citrus grove,) and biscuits topped with honey from the bees. As I taste the thick crusty biscuit the honey oozes down my chin and into my beard. I get a whiff of something bitter and the acrid tang of an unknown substance. I am immediately put off and get out of bed to start my morning routine.
After my shower I go into the courtyard and dance in the octagon patterned tiles that summon the bees. I hum the familiar tune and await the whoosh of air created from a million tiny wings. I wait and wait, dancing and humming. The bees never arrive.
I lay in the garden, spent of all energy. My eyes are leaking salt water and my face keeps changing, my lips turning downward. I don't recognize this feeling and I cant put a name to it.
I run into the house and check the brood chambers. All of the larvae are still thriving in their octagons. The first set of hatchlings are have almost emerged, their white faces gnawing out so strong and brave. I begin the long task of feeding all of my children. I hum to pass the time. The room heats up and the wing-like fans produce gentle breeze. I set the last child down with a kiss and go to investigate my temperature problem.
In the attic room my windchimes are adjusted to a cooler temperature. I sigh with contentment as I realized my temperature system hasn't failed. I look out the window in the tallest part of my attic and I can see the island below me. I smile until I notice the wildflowers are a new color in the orange grove. They are all brown. I must go to see what has happened.
Chapter 3
Ramos accompanies me to the citrus groves. I don't explain much to him about why we are going. I don't wish to make his stomach feel the same way mine does, twisting and falling to my knees.
Meeting Ramos was all I had imagined from the time I tried on the well used version of my mothers wedding dress. My heart grew and danced when he lifted my veil for our kiss. His face is smooth and he laughed when my beard tickled his smooth face for that monumental kiss. Since our lives melded into marriage he has been the most thoughtful and we live in glee. He was chosen for me by my parents. His thoughtfullness astounds me even today and he lugs the picnic he has carefully packed into a basket he has woven. We hold hand and I keep a fast pace. He smiles as if he has a secret. I know what this smile means, this secret will be a good surprise, he is so full of those moments.
Arriving in the groves I am greeted by brown dry wildflowers and grass. The orange trees that still have blossoms are brown as well. I don't know what this means. I gasp and look at Ramos and he is smiling. He pulls a bottle of sorts out of the picnic basket and waters the remaining flowers.
"I'm glad you are watering them, we must get the older children together and figure out a solution."
"It isn't water," he replies "It's round up."
"What is round up??" I ask, grabbing the bottle and recognizing the scent from the spray immediately to that of my earlier breakfast.
"I made it before, in the factory."
Ramos describes in detail his previous life and that he used to have to work for 10 hours a day for paper. I am shocked, his memory should have been erased before arriving here.
"What made you round up the flowers? Does this feed them?", I ask trying to find solutions to all of the questions flying in my head.
"No, it kills them." he answers, so gleefully, that I run from him. I turn to look back and he continues to smile and spray the roundup.
Chapter 4
I have summoned my parents and discussed possible reasons Ramos could have retained his memory. I try to understand the life he had before, why would a person poison their own plants? The earth must make people confused.
I explained to Ramos that he must never use the awful spray again. He told me that he was trying to clear "weeds " so we could lay under the trees without the itchiness of the wildflowers on our skin. He doesn't enjoy the scratchiness that I have known as a part of the island, his nose drips and he sneezes.
The Roundup as been stored in a cave near the south west section of the island. The entrance to the cave has been concealed and the poison should never be discovered.
My parents and grandparents are summoning their grandparents, to help them remember if a human has been able to remember his past life, after entering the island.
The bees from my birth land have split and swarmed here to help. They were rewarded with entire frames of honey for their loyalty. I recognized familiar wing patterns and sounds as they surrounded me in a soft, tickling, embrace. I have forbid them to enter the barren orchards. They understand as we explained to them what happens if they carry the toxic chemical back to the hive.
As I lay in bed, next to Ramos, I hold him as he shakes. I try to console him as his eyes leak. I understand it was just a mistake. The bee's were our friends. We grieve together. Time passes and I realize his sobs have subsided. He is breathing heavily and has drifted into sleep. As I allow myself the respite I desperately need drifting off into the world of dreams,
His voice startles me awake.
"Katrina" Ramos says and smiles, still slumbering.
My eyes open and my skin prickles, this is going to be a long night.
Hello @hezziebees, thank you for sharing this creative work! We just stopped by to say that you've been upvoted by the @creativecrypto magazine. The Creative Crypto is all about art on the blockchain and learning from creatives like you. Looking forward to crossing paths again soon. Steem on!
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Interesting and absorbing
Thank you for your comment @wales. Your work is so much better I consider it an honor that you even read this!!
Everything is grist for the mill, nothing is too small to be noticed, everyone starts somewhere, and least but not last: it's practice that brings the best out of you...
What is so lovely and so real about your story is that it holds truth and the reality of today. It is fiction yet it is so there in our real world. You got the people thinking about all the bad stuff being put on all our plants, making the reader feel once more for what is good and what is wrong.
Awesome job. Honestly, thank you for that.
Thank you for your kind words.