Sunday, 11 September 2011


Carl knew cults, cults were the job. Tied to this honeycombed altar, however, he was wondering if the Agency had maybe neglected to adequately brief him on this one.

The robed men chanted as their ‘Queen’ smeared some kind of sweet, viscous goo on Carl’s face.

The Queen opened her mouth wide, wider. Something moved inside, something that buzzed. Bees swarmed between her teeth in a ragged, angry cloud.

Carl clamped his mouth and eyes shut. He felt their horrible, furry bodies crawling through the syrup on his face. Then he felt them pushing into his ears and his nose.

(Originally written for Lily Childs' Friday Prediction)


  1. Sweet. I guess the queen wasn't fond of snoopers.

  2. Oh somebody save him from the Queen bee! ^__^

  3. Thanks, Magaly. Sweet indeed... ;D

    Thank you, Helen. I think he's a goner... little buzzy bees in his brain, making him do all kinds of things...

  4. Great intro! Don't you hate when you're not quite prepared for a particular job?

    Btw, I am now afraid of bees. ;)

  5. Thanks, Zaiure. =) It's a healthy fear to have though, really... ;)

  6. Oh that freaked me out, actually. I always liked bees but...nah, not crawling all over me.

  7. Icky, tongue-in-cheek nasty...

    But did Carl get a buzz out of it? (Sorry) :-)

  8. Thank you, Bev. =)

    thanks, Icy. I don't mind bees either, usually, but definitely not crawling on me... *shudders*

    Thanks, Steve. =) Sometimes those one-liners just slip away from you, don't they..? ;)