M E L I T A
The honeybee child faced disappointment without theatrics. If there was usually any reaction at all, it was a quiet, muted sort of moment, where she tucked back into herself, finally pondered, wondered, why everything had gone wrong. She’d done it frequently in her youth: watched as the world burned down around her, as shadows shifted, as light vanished, and the outlines, the sketches, of what used to be simply ceased to exist. She’d tried to slay beasts and vermin with no forethought but might, she’d tried to evade ghosts, phantoms, and wraiths, specters of a lost generation sizzling over flesh and bone. She’d tried to delude herself time and time again, and as her gilded gaze caught the gourd’s movements hastening towards music, towards tunes, towards warm resonance and alluring, beguiling chords, she presumed the same thing would happen again. Melita eased out a breath, relinquished its particles into the air, and thought about retreating.
Still, her eyes didn’t stray – bearing witness as it turned, shifting its way towards her and the formidable lure.
Something in her heart sang, and it’d been so long, so frightfully long, since anything beyond ferocity, hatred, animosity, wrath, and violence had brewed in it – her chest skipped and cajoled, it wept and bled, and she laughed, giggled, as the damned gourd nibbled at her fingers. “Hello, little one,” she crooned, leaning forward and proffering more of the rabbit meat.
She’d finally conquered and triumphed, and the glory, the rush, the sudden connection, felt so wonderful because it meant success, it meant blessings, and it meant not being alone any longer. It was a beginning, rather than an end, a beautiful new strand twisting and turning in her soul. “Come with me,” Melita breathed, and her existence was instantly more than a single seditious burn.
Thank you admin! <3
