Bee Happy (A children’s story)

    ‘Good morning, dear. You must be our newest worker bee, old enough now to go out and collect the pollen and nectar. Welcome to our team.’

    I shook my head violently, and said to my guide, ‘Oh no, no. You have made a mistake. I don’t plan to go out. I collected the water for a few days, but now I want to relax and stay inside.

    By the way, I have noticed that we have no king.’

    She answered, ‘Oh yes, we have a king. Our Creator is our King. We do not need another. As you know, we have a beautiful queen who takes care of us and makes sure there are enough workers. We also take care of her. She is a very special lady, as we cannot live without her.’

    I could see, as an older bee now, how foolish these bees were. I would make a difference. I did not want to be a worker any longer. I was meant for bigger things.

    I watched busy bees flying in and out of the hive. They had awful yellow stuff stuck to their legs. I had no intention of going out, and getting that muck stuck on my beautiful legs.

    I stamped. ‘I’m not going out there, there’s pollen. I have told you I am not going anywhere near any flowers that will stick that yellow stuff on me. I was not created for such a job. If I was a drone, I would marry the queen and become king. Then I would set all the workers free. No more gathering nectar and pollen. They’d love me.’

    My guide answered rather crossly, ‘Firstly, you silly bee, the queen has drones to help her breed more bees like us. We don’t need a king here.’

     I rolled my eyes, muttering, ‘This is ridiculous. I definitely need to make some changes.’

    ‘Secondly’, she added. ‘Our King says if you don’t work, you don’t eat. He has special jobs for everyone and you will only ever be happy doing what He wants you to do. Your job now is to go out and collect the nectar and pollen and bring it back to the hive. You had different jobs when you were younger. I know you were a gatekeeper for a while. You checked the nectar when the bees came back, and made sure it was from the correct flowers and was good quality. Before that, you worked hard, beating your wings to keep the hive cool. Now it’s your turn to collect the pollen and nectar.’

    I decided to look around and see if there was another job I could do. It would be impossible for me to be king, and anyway, I didn’t want to die so soon like the drones. But I was tired of working, and now I was expected to do the biggest job. I might have to fly a long way, just to get one type of nectar. No, not me. I’d done enough work.

    Later in the day, my guide found me sulking in a corner. I had not left the hive. I refused to go out onto the flowers and get my knees sticky.

    ‘I’m hungry,’ I grumbled.

    My guide was rude enough to shake her head and laugh at me. ‘If you were doing what you were told to do, your tummy would be full and you would be happy.’

    ‘Why do I have to do what you say?’ I asked in a whining voice.

    She said, ‘It’s not what I’m telling you to do, but what the King has designed you to do. You have reached the age where you need to be responsible, with a new and very important job. Our King helps us with this job by leading us to the best flowers.’

    My guide told me to watch the bees doing the waggle dance, but I stubbornly closed my eyes.

    ‘Watch them carefully,’ she said. ‘You need to count how long their dance is, and what direction they are facing. That will tell you how far away the flowers are, and in what direction you need to fly. Every second of the dance tells us that we must fly between 750 and 1,000 meters.’

    I said, ‘What? How can we count seconds, or even half second? That’s impossible!’

    My guide smiled. ‘Well, it is impossible for other species, like humans, but for us bees, it’s simple. You’ll see.’

    I refused to move.

    My guide said I had to do my job, whether I wanted to or not. Before I knew what was happening, she and her friends pushed me out of the hive.

    Flying beside me, she patiently said, ‘I will fly with you and show you a perfect flower, just this once. You should have watched the dance, so you would know where to go.’

    I followed her, enjoying the sunshine and warm breeze. But I wouldn’t tell her that.

    When we arrived at a pretty purple flower, I was overcome by its perfume.

    Being hungry, I immediately started gobbling the nectar, too happy to worry about the pollen sticking to my legs. Soon my tummy was full.

    I remembered then that I was supposed to be collecting nectar to take back to the hive.

    My guide said, ‘Don’t forget that you have two stomachs. You can swap it all to the storage stomach for the hive, and just transfer a bit to your eating tummy when you are hungry.’

    I laughed, loving the feeling.

    ‘Let’s go back now’, she said.

    We flew off with many other bees, and headed home. I found myself buzzing a happy tune and noticed the other bees doing the same.

   In the following days, I felt the joy of doing the biggest job I had been designed for. I was surprised that I was happiest when busy amongst the flowers, even when covered in the sticky pollen.

He and Rhilla had gone for walks thousands of times in their early years of marriage. Why’d it have to be so blasted hard to go for a walk now?

Teinn Varg sat in the armchair in the living room, pushing his spectacles up his nose to better observe his wife of fifty years. She paced up and down the hallway, stopping at the door.

“I can’t go out there, there’s pollen.”

“It is autumn, my love.” Teinn kept his tone calm. She needed calm during these fits, not the grumbling that sat inside his chest. “There is no pollen.”

“Don’t you my love me.” Rhilla clasped nervous hands in front of her, eyes gaining that far-off look that came when the sun went down. “My parents are coming to fetch me. We’re going to church.”

“It is dusk. Church is over and done. We could go for a walk, like I suggested, talk like old times.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” She pointed a wrinkled, trembling finger. “My parents are coming for me, and then you’ll be sorry!”

Teinn sighed, leaning back in the armchair. The fit would pass. They always did. He’d try again in the morning.

When he and Rhilla had first married, they had spent every evening walking the streets of Hartmore hand-in-hand. She’d told him her dreams. He’d told her his plans. They’d walked in the drizzling rain of spring, during the snowfall of the early winter, and even summer’s blazing sun. They’d walked in the months after he hurt his leg, and continued when Rhilla was pregnant with their child. They’d always walked together—until recently.

“Your parents are dead, my love.” The words slipped out just like his tears, heartfelt and unplanned. “It is just you and I.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” The shaking finger raised still higher, pointing toward the door. “You kidnapped me. They’re coming. I know they’re coming!”

Teinn sighed. When the truth didn’t work, he’d have to resort to play-acting. “It’s dark outside, and s’posed to storm. Maybe they’ve stopped for the night.”

She crossed the room to peep out the front window. Her fingers caught in the curtains, but the trembling was slowing now. “It is dark. The pollen’s gone, but it’s not safe to travel.”

Groaning under his breath, Teinn rose to his feet. The pain in the small of his back hurt worse on nights like this. When he joined Rhilla at the window, she did not move to push him away.

It was too dark now for the walk he had suggested nearly an hour before, when her mind had not yet descended into this disease brought on by age. Poor, sweet Rhilla, always worried about others. 

“I’m sure your parents will come safely in the morning,” he dared to suggest. “Do you want to go to bed, so that you are well-rested when they arrive?”

Her beautiful gray eyes turned on him, and in them he saw just a shadow of the woman he had always loved. “I should.”

He guided her to their bedroom, dressed her in pajamas and tucked her into bed with little protest. Only when her eyes had fully closed did he make his way back into the living room, back to the armchair. Even with his spectacles, his eyes blurred as he daydreamed of his heart of hearts, sound asleep in the next room.

The next thing Teinn remembered was waking up in his armchair, a knot in his knee and a gentle arm around his shoulders.

“Good morning, my love,” Rhilla said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Why did you sleep out here?”

She never remembered the next day just how much the sunset affected her. Teinn kissed her back, pulling her down on his lap. She giggled like the schoolgirl he had married.

“Teinn!”

“Come with me for a walk?” he asked, unable to keep his voice from cracking. 

“I’d love to.”

So their walks were morning walks now. He could work with that.

"Hey Mon," Buttercat said. "You think you could spare some sweet, sweet nectar?"
Monarch fluttered his wings with disdain.
"Never, freak. Get it yourself."
Buttercat's antennae twitched as he rested on the blade of grass.
"C'mon Mon. You know I can't go out there, there's pollen."
Monarch spread his wings and caught the breeze while Buttercat admired the black and gold printed pattern on Monarch's chitin. He had always been envious of Monarch's elegant wings. If only I had been born with those babies, he thought. Life would be so different.
"What's wrong with you, Buttercat?" Monarch asked. "You're a butterfly for crying out loud."
"Yeah, well," Buttercat fidgeted. "I got allergies."
"What kind of butterfly is allergic to pollen?"
"These flowers are different from the ones on the islands." Buttercat's voice lowered a semi-decibel. "Look, I'll cut you a deal, Mon. If you could spare a little nectar I'll teach you everything I know about the humans."
"Why are you whispering? It's not like they can even hear you."
Buttercat spread his own plain, flying equipment and flew to Monarch. "I know you've got a little brother that's about to become a pupa. Word in the gardens is he's been getting fat off the little lemon sapling in the backyard. Now, I have it on authority that the humans... well, they're partial to the lemon tree. If your brother keeps eating those leaves, the lemon tree will die. If the lemon tree dies, then you can guarantee that your brother--"
Buttercat makes a swiping motion with his foreleg across his thorax. "D-e-a-d. Dead. Lifeless as an abandoned chrysalis."
"Whatever. I know what I'm doing. My family has fluttered here for generations. You can just go back to the islands, Mr. Ugly Wings."
Monarch started flying to the fields where the pink milkweed danced in the wind. Buttercat followed Monarch just until he got to the edge of the field. But he could already feel the veins in his wings starting to swell, making it hard for him to fly. He had to hang back several feet.
"Hey Mon, I'm serious. Forget the nectar. Something's going down with the humans. I heard them."
Monarch ignored Buttercat and rested on the petals of one of the flowers. He began lapping the syrup with his long, long black tongue. Buttercat watched Monarch for a moment, then he wiped his face vigorously with his forearms and turned to eye the lemon tree.
And that's when he saw the human with a net looking right at him. No, not him. Monarch!
"Hey Mon!" Buttercat shouted. "Behind you!"
But it was too late. Monarch was trapped.
Weeks later, Buttercat was gliding by the window of the human's house when he saw Monarch, frozen and pinned on display for all to see his beauty.
"Dang," Buttercat said.
The he went back to his perch on the grass, asking the next passerby for some sweet, sweet nectar.

Basil the Sneezing Bee
Written by Meaghan Hampton

Basil was the only bee in Honeybrook Hive who sneezed dramatically at flowers, launching himself backward like a fuzzy cannonball.

“Ah-CHOO!” he exclaimed, ricocheting off the wax wall of his tiny room and landing upside down in a thimble chair.

Outside, the hive buzzed with excitement as worker bees zipped around, collecting nectar while morning sunlight poured through the honeycomb windows. Basil groaned, dreading another beautiful spring day filled with pollen.

His mother peeked into his room, holding a tiny scarf. “Sweetheart, are you ready? The tulips opened today.”

“I can’t go out there; there’s pollen,” he protested, burying his face in the blanket.

“There’s pollen everywhere, dear. You’re a bee,” she reminded him gently.

“I’m aware of the irony,” he muttered.

His mother touched his forehead with a fuzzy leg. “Maybe today will be better.”

“It won’t. I scared a squirrel out of a tree with my sneeze yesterday,” Basil grumbled.

“To be fair, that squirrel was already nervous,” she replied.

Reluctantly, Basil dragged himself to the hive entrance, where rows of eager young bees buzzed around. Clover, a bright bee with golden stripes, greeted him. “Morning, sneezy!”

“Don’t call me sneezy,” Basil shot back.

“Sorry. Allergic Majesty?” Clover teased.

Basil narrowed his eyes but couldn’t help a small smile as he adjusted the enormous flower-petal mask strapped across his face. “I basically am.”

At the front, Queen Petunia announced, “Honeybrook Meadow is experiencing the largest bloom in twenty years!”

Cheers erupted, but Basil felt like faking his own death.

“Everyone must contribute,” the Queen continued, pointing toward the meadow filled with colorful flowers. To Basil, it looked lethal.

With a sigh, he pushed himself into the air, but the moment they crossed into the meadow, disaster struck. Pollen drifted in shimmering clouds, and Basil inhaled it.

“Oh no,” he whispered, eyes widening.

“Basil?” Clover asked with concern.

“Ah…” he started, but it was too late.

“AH-CHOOOOOO!” His sneeze exploded like thunder, sending him crashing into a daisy patch and tumbling into a mud puddle.

Silence followed, broken only by a cricket’s polite applause. Clover landed beside him, chuckling. “Honestly? That’s a new distance record.”

Basil groaned from the mud. “Just leave me alone,” and took off back into the air.

Every flower triggered another sneeze, and he found refuge beneath a large mushroom as rain clouds gathered overhead. Hoping for a storm to cancel pollen forever, he suddenly heard shouts.

“Help!”

Several young bees struggled against fierce wind gusts, and Basil’s allergies roared to life. Clover landed beside him. “The wind’s too strong! We can’t stabilize!”

Basil noticed something strange: the pollen moved in visible streams, following patterns. While other bees avoided the densest clouds, Basil had spent his life tracking pollen movement — for him, it was a matter of survival.

“I have an idea,” he said, adjusting his mask.

“You’re allergic to outside,” Clover reminded him.

“Yes, and I cried over having to exist beside a daffodil yesterday,” he replied, determination creeping into his voice. “I never said it was a good idea.”

With that, he launched into the storm. Wind battered him, and pollen blasted through the air. He could feel his allergies awakening, but he focused on the airflow.

“There,” he muttered, zigzagging through gaps between pollen streams while other bees stared in amazement.

“How’s he doing that?” someone shouted.

“He’s following clean air pockets!”

Basil reached the thorn bush where a young bee clung to a branch. “I’m stuck!” she cried.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he said, swallowing the urge to sneeze.

Thunder cracked overhead, and the pollen shifted. Basil’s face froze in terror as his nose twitched. “No, no, no!”

“Is this bad?” the trapped bee asked.

“Usually.”

“Should we move?”

“Let’s use it!” he shouted just before sneezing once more. “AH-CHOOOOOO!” The sneeze detonated, and Basil angled himself deliberately, propelling both bees clear of the thorns.

They soared across the meadow, crash-landing safely in clover near the hive entrance. Cheers erupted. Worker bees surrounded Basil as the rain fell.

“You saved her,” Queen Petunia said, landing nearby.

Basil sniffled, still miserable. “I also sneezed on three people.”

“A minor detail,” the Queen replied with a smile.

The rescued bee hugged him tightly. “Thank you!”

Basil blinked in surprise. No one had ever thanked him for sneezing before. Queen Petunia added, “Perhaps your allergy is not a weakness after all.”

For the first time, Basil recognized something strange: his allergies had forced him to understand pollen better than any bee in Honeybrook.

Clover nudged him. “You know this means you’re officially weird and heroic now.”

Basil considered this. “I can live with that.”

Then a gust of pollen blew across the landing platform. His eyes widened. “Oh come on—”

“AH-CHOOOOOO!”

My Adventure

By Ruth Cully

I woke up to my alarm blaring good morning. I turned over in bed and turned the clock off. I checked the time. It was 7:00. I groaned, not wanting to get out of my cozy bed with my fluffy blanket, soft pillows, and light as air mattress. I snuggled in a little deeper and dozed off. I woke up to my mom hollering at me to get ready for school. I groaned again. School.  Slowly I got out of bed savoring the last moments of the soft fluffiness of the bed. I shuffled over to my closet and looked through it, trying to decide what to wear.  My radio came on and announced that it was going to be in the high 70s today. I grabbed a knee-length yellow dress and white sandals. I got exited thinking about spring. It had barely begun and it was so warm. 

After getting dressed I walked down the hallway to the bathroom.  I grabbed my brush and brushed out my slightly curly hair. Then I got out my straightener and brushed my teeth while it heated up.  When the green light turned on, I straightened my hair, pulled it half back, and put some hair spray on so my hair wouldn’t frizz then I grabbed my favorite perfume and spritzed it on, twirling in the lemon lavender flavored mist. Going back to my room I put my homework, my books, my notebook, my pencil bag, and my phone into my backpack, and hurried down the stairs.

I slid into my seat right as my mom put a plate of pancakes with syrup and razzberries in front of me.  I dug in.  What a great way to start the day I thought.  I finished breakfast, put my plate in the sink .and kissed my mom goodbye. I opened the door and ran out to meet the bus. Then suddenly I started coughing. Weird I thought, it being so warm out. On the bus my eyes started watering and my nose started running. By the time we got to school it had died down so I thought nothing of it. Then we had gym, but we were going to do it outside because it was so warm.  Our gym teacher Mr. Sanches said we were going to play kickball. I was thrilled. I love kickball.

We went outside to play then, about ten minutes in the game I was wheezing. Five minutes later I could barely breathe. I collapsed on third base, and Mr. Sanchez came running over.  He called an ambulance and I was taken to the hospital. When I woke up, I could breathe again and my mom and dad were there. They said I had had a little adventure with pollen.   They told me I had had an allergic reaction to the pollen in the air. I was confused because I had never reacted to any allergies before and I told my parents so. They said it could happen as you grew up. They also told me I would have to take pills at home for it and come in for a shot every two weeks.  We went home and the next morning I got up to go to school. I got a skirt and a tank top and my cowgirl boots. I went downstairs after straightening my hair. I ate breakfast and grabbed my backpack. As I was heading out the door, my adventure from yesterday came flooding back to me. “Wait, I can’t go out there there’s pollen.” I spoke. My mom just handed me my pill and smiled.  I smiled back and ran to catch the bus.