Dreamt someone had beehives in a shelter. The shelter and everything in it was dedicated to Persephone. There were little gold things and lots of crafted things but most everything in the shelter was functional and used in the fields surrounding the shelter.
Though it belonged to one person, the shelter and fields were maintained by the village as a communal offering to Persephone. Nothing was wasted. Harvested grain was turned into bread. That bread was never sold but given to the poorest in the village with no expectation of anything in return. The honey was used to make medicines for the sick and sweets for all. No output of the fields were sold. Folks responded with their labor when they could. One time a sick man sat a chair in the fields and sang his gratitude all day as his health allowed. Workers shared their lunch and water with him. He gave as he could and everyone said it was the best ever.
But the bees were everyone’s joy. Everyone grew bee friendly flowers in their yards so the bees would not have to go far. Pesticides were forbidden. Persephone’s bees must be kept safe.
The owner of the shelter had to go to the big city for a while. He left it in the care of his uncle. His uncle, realizing how much work was involved, left it in the case of his wife as a way to help her feel involved. She married into the town and was unhappy with how small and apparently backwards it was. That the shelter was allowed to stand in these modern times was an affront to her. Even the Catholic Priest helps! How evil! (He helps because the bread is made not as an offering to Persephone, but because it is explicitly for the poor regardless of religion.)
I arrived in the village two days after she took over. Three days before the rightful person came back. The village was in angry spirits. They asked if I was going to bring evil.
I was directed to the shelter. The Tía was there pacing outside the shelter. Two others were there pleading with her to let them take over the care. I offered to help.
“Here take this spray glue and spray down the contaminated beehive. It’s the one with the cover knocked over. Spray it good and cover all openings. The bees inside have to be isolated and destroyed.”
I don’t know the first thing about beekeeping so it sounded legitimate to me. As I took the spray, one of the others asked of it was pesticide. No pesticides allowed.
I enter the shelter. I saw no gold. All earthen works had been smashed. The place looked raided by smash and grab burglars. Dead bees were everywhere. It smelled like a can of Raid exploded. Of the three large hives on the cabinet, one was absent a cover and had a huge hole that did not look right. The woven straw dome was half crushed on the floor. I looked in the hole and realized the cabinet was hollow. The hives sat over a deep opening in the ground.
The Tía yelled at me to start spraying before another swarm of bees tries to build a nest there.
I started spraying but instead of an expanding foam substance, this thin watery fluid sputtered out. The smell of pesticide intensified. I dropped the spray. “It’s pesticide! What the hell! Are you trying to contaminate everything?”
Then I heard the buzzing. From the gaping hole a winged insect emerged. This was no bee. It’s body was the size of my hand. The mandibles were clearly made for the rending of flesh. The stinger was black, wet, and almost an inch long. It crawled to the top of the destroyed hive and lapped up the poison like dew.
“Dedicated to Persephone. Over a hole in the ground. Sacred bees. Old tradition. Oh, fuck me.”
I picked up the can of pesticide and bowed at the wasp. “I was suckered. But now I see, and now I leave and I take the poison with me.” By the time I stood back up, five more hornets were there. The buzzing under the ground intensified.
I walked out of the shelter then ran to the Tía. “You bitch! That was pesticide! Where are the votive offerings? Where are the gold and the pretty things? Why is everything broken? You killed the bees!“
“They stung me! They’re a danger! We can buy all that anyway so why waste all this time and money on something that doesn’t do anything! I took the gold because it belongs to me! And I deserve it more than some stupid myth! Now get back there and spray everything!”
The two others that were still arguing with her were facing the shelter. They paled and whimpered as the buzzing deepened in pitch and greatly intensified.
“Gentlemen. Do not run. Walk. Go to the village and inform everyone to go to their homes, leave a piece of raw meat or a dish of water or milk outside their door, and then shut up all doors and windows. If you hear buzzing, remain still or move slowly. These are not normal hornets as you can see. Now. Go.”
A hornet landed on my shoulder and it was everything I could do not to panic. It scratched me with its stinger in a deliberate and careful action. I nodded as my skin (and only my skin) bubbled from the acid. That was my punishment for my part in the spraying. It hurt like hell but I could bear it.
This close I realized the hornet’s mouth also resembled a locust. I turned to see the shelter was thick with the insects. They hadn’t swarmed yet because they were eating everything that was contaminated.
The two others had already left, walking as fast as they could without triggering a chase reaction from the hornets. I heard the pesticide can being picked up. The Tía was screeching in Italian. Her tone announced defiance, anger, and the arrogance of someone that thinks themselves superior to the situation.
I did not turn to face her.
I knew what was to come.
She started spraying. A mass of hornets dropped off the structure of the shelter. The buzzing deafened me. The hornet on my shoulder gripped me tighter as if to tell me not to move. The swarm came towards me and enveloped me. Though it was the height of the day, I was blinded in the sudden dark.
Something landed on my face. My lower lip burst into pain. The something released my face.
I stood still.
I heard screams behind me that were muffled as the screamer started gagging on whatever was invading her mouth.
The swarm moved on. Even the hornet on my shoulder was gone. The insects were now invading the village. Those that kept the tradition were most likely safe. The meat and milk would buy the safety of those that didn’t.
A drop of my blood quivered on my wounded lower lip. The mark of who this sacred space belongs to. I thought it better to depart before I inadvertently piss her off again.
I bowed to nothing in particular and was allowed to exit the dream.