The Bumblebee Witch
It all started by trying to get up this damn hill. The vegetation around my feet was lush. High humidity and that smell after it had just rained. Little insects bothered my face looking for a little drink of tears.
I had to get up this hill. He needed my help and I had to get to the classroom. I pulled myself up on slippery vines, my feet sliding in the thick mud underfoot. Eventually I got to the top and walked through the open door to the classroom.
It was long and thin – room for only twelve orange plastic chairs in a long line. Blue carpet tiles. The smell of old wood. It was like a long neglected meeting room at the BBC. I sat down and she walked through the door.
She was small with long black hair, powdery white skin, and breath that smelt of stale cigarettes and burnt coffee. Sharp, green eyes lay deep within a constant frown. Instead of fear, I felt anger. I must save him, and to do it, I must confront her.
I knew he was a space shuttle pilot. The captain of the lost ship from thirty years ago. This was the first room anyone sees who comes here, so his suit must be lying around somewhere. As is common in this place – if you’ve been here as long as I have – sometimes you can think things into being. A small chair when you need a sit down. An umbrella when it’s raining. In this case, just at that moment, a distraction. A noise from outside. She stopped mid-sentence (I don’t recall what she was saying) and left the door. This was my chance.
In a cupboard was his suit. Like all of us, he was sat, staring into space, drooling a little. No thoughts. I didn’t expect any help until he was able, and that will happen fast. I found his glove – knowing it had the spray attachment I needed – just as she walked in. Faster than I can recall, I sprayed her and she transformed instantly. She became a large bumblebee on the blue carpet tiles struggling to walk through the deluge of insecticide I was spraying on her. She didn’t die, she resisted. ‘RUN!’ I yelled. He was awake. He ran outside and into a buggy of sorts and sped off.
The insecticide ran dry. I expected her to transform back and to seek her revenge, but she didn’t. She flapped her wings and took off out of the door in pursuit. I watched as one bee turned into a swarm. The jungle floor turned to sand and the buggy got stuck just as the swarm reached him. She returned to her spot on his face. Just under the skin. Controlling his thoughts as she controlled all of us. Creating this world in which we lived.
I’ve been dreaming vivid dreams recently. This one, on Saturday night, wasn’t the result of eating cheese or bananas. I had a couple of glasses of red wine and got to bed at a sensible time. Yes, three days later, it’s still with me in all its detail. I wanted to write it down so I can look back on its delicious weirdness. When I told Emma, she said ‘I dream of normal stuff. You dream of sci-fi horror epics. Weirdo.’