Attack

Written in 2012

Gloomy skies, barren streets, and destroyed homes described the vibe of the usually sunny, pleasant town of Springfield. Springfield's typically happy reputation was being overshadowed on this day by the thick feeling in the air. The empty streets were littered with trash, and not a soul was to be found. Somewhere nearby, a pipe hissed toxic gas into the air. Shattered glass was found on every corner, and once quaint stores were hard to recognize amiss the destruction. A light breeze lifted fliers off the ground and danced with them in the wind.

The town was empty. What had caused such destruction in a once alive town? Our story begins exactly two days ago.

The town of Springfield was an ideal place to live; the friendly pharmacy owner knew everyone, kids were allowed the freedom to ride around town in their three wheeler bicycles, and parents could spend hours mowing their pristine front lawns. The sun always shone down on everyone, and the newspaper boy's orange cap was a town icon.

Springfield was beautiful.

But on one summer day, while kids played soccer outside and parents sipped iced tea on the front porch, a cold wind enveloped Springfield.  Everyone tried to run indoors to grab a sweater, but a dark shadow swallowed Springfield, stopping everyone in their tracks. Mouths gaped open, staring up into the sky at the spectacle. Kids dropped ice cream cones, adults dropped their Easy Living magazines, even the newspaper boy did not notice when his beloved cap was swept up by the wind. What was before them was unimaginable, crazy, and monstrous. A giant bee had covered the town, leaving everything in its shadow.

There was a pause: no one did anything, no one said anything, and the bee hovered still in place. After that moment, the bee let out a high pitched scream, and stung the nearest person. After the first sting, madness seized the town. People frantically ran the streets searching for protection. But the bee would destroy buildings, homes, anything in its way to find its prey. Everyone was doomed to the terrifying fate of death.

But how does one die from a bee sting? The bee would penetrate your body with its stinger, and poison you with venom that would render you unconscious, but lying still for hours enduring internal pain before the Grim Reaper would come to fulfill his duty. Alone the penetration from the stinger could kill you; the bee's size was about ten times bigger than the average human. The stinger was deadly, extreme, no one could survive.

Fast forward two days after the grand arrival of the bee. The desolate town stands still, no hope remaining for its future. The destruction was the only reminder of the horrible beast that had terrorized the town a mere 48 hours before. The only persons around were glass figurines in the toy store, which somehow managed to survive in contrast to their destroyed surroundings. The glass family huddles together, almost as if sharing a secret. The secret to how they survived. The secret to where the population had gone. The secret to what had happened to society.

Suddenly, a crack appears in the foundation of the glass family, and one by one they crumble. The shards of glass are crystals, catching the sun and sending specs of light everywhere as they tumble down the dusty rubble. The pieces are caught by a spider web strung between two green leaves: a breath of life. As the shards settle in from their journey to safety, they mix with the morning dew that had been taken hostage by the sticky web. The crystals bring something new. No longer are the dew drops chained to the web, they mix with the crystals to form a cure. Small droplets of hope.

A few feet away, there is movement. A woman emerges from the rubble, limping. As she pushes away the blocks of cement and loose gravel, she looks around, surveying the scene. There is a bandage around her right knee: the only battle wound she has from the terror of the bee. This woman has survived. She has survived the loss of her loved ones. She has survived the change of her world as she knew it. But most importantly, she has survived what no one else has, and with that, she moves forward leaving behind the rubble of the past.

The legs move, the purple shoes pirouette and her gray skirt flares. There is terror reflected in the pupils of her eyes. There is a sound like a swarm from a crazed symphony that deafens her. 

She grabs the bandage that wraps her knee and signals to the sky. Survivor.