Today's Story by Sarah Griff

By the time it was over and she couldn’t drink any tea she was sobbing too hard on the floor.

Kitchen Blinding

there is a fat, spherical little bumblebee on the windowsill. as she waits for the kettle to boil, she lowers her head and thinks to herself, oh, what a lovely coat he has, all yellow and black and stripy and furry. and soft, she imagines greedily, envisioning a long coat in those very colours that she would wear, made of the rarest and tiniest creature. a bumblebee fur coat, oh yes, thousands were killed, but this truly is an impeccable piece of clothing. revolutionary? very much so. it’s art, you say? I’d have to agree.

he pricks up suddenly his invisible bee ears, feeling a pulse of disrespect from this giantess before him then in a moment faster than she could comprehend he was upon her, digging his acidic sting into the socket of her right eye, just between the eyelids that she’d tried to close. the blink was too slow for him, now piercing the white of her right eye and she screamed as he stole her sight, gleefully.

she tried to get him out, finger and thumb but he eluded her, ready to remove himself and take his chances with her other eye but then it was over, she’d grabbed him with her trembling digits despite her panic and pain. she pushed finger and thumb together with a shriek and then it was over but her eye was stung none the less and she never saw out of it again. the kettle was boiled by the time it was over and she couldn’t drink any tea she was sobbing too hard on the floor, the carcass of the wee insect clenched in her fist.

she took to wearing a patch over her useless eye in the time that passed and was complimented on it by all the movers and shakers in her scene and there were times she nearly thanked the bee. nature’s fist gave me this black blind eye and you know, I must agree, it’s rather…stylish.


This piece was read as part of a production of “Action Fiction!”, sponsored by Fiction365 and Omnibucket.   

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