The ravine was filled with discarded, wispy, translucent insect wings. When the wind blew they made soft buzzing sounds.
Legend said the information came from the bees. While scientists had adamantly rejected this, the acolytes persisted.
When the bees returned they came in geometrical groups. It took scientists years to understand the logograms, and subsequently develop a device for cross-communication.
From the bees’ point of view I was a monster. From the monster’s point of view I was an insect.
Before they stepped into the stone circle they put on suits made of clover and feathers, and they released the bees.
Elevated platforms were crowded, the sounds of scraping chitin and thrashing antennae echoed through the canyon.
Each flower was an identical copy, each placed exactly as far apart as another, each a little monster.
She gently pushed away the mass of bees, which slowly congealed back into place like a winged liquid.
The exhibit had begun its reproductive cycle. Even from where they stood, this was terrifying.
I apologized to the hive, who granted my forgiveness with a steady pulsing buzz.
“In this bag are the last bees we were able to find. Keep them safe.”
The sound of swarming bees was the only thing that sexually excited him.
The side of the mountain was covered in it, the new species swayed in the wind, cooing.
The bees had not collected pollen, but something else, something that smelled fishy and glowed.
Bees collected on the window. They arranged themselves, spelling out “RETREAT”.