The sounds of buzzing fill my ears. No matter how much I tried to turn around and go back to sleep, it simply grew louder without concern for my splitting headache. Did I forget to pay my cable bill?

Opening my eyes, I’m greeted by the sight of… Nothing?

Not even a droplet of light enters my vision. To make matters worse, I think I’m hyper-focusing on the static of my tv. Otherwise, it sounds like I’m surrounded by bees.

Before I can further contemplate my potential blindness, I’m jostled around by what I can only assume is a giant insect. My stomach sinks as I freeze up and experience the seven stages of grief. The feeling of hard insect legs, the size of my arm, stabbing onto my body is something my dreams will be sure to reference for future use.

As I writhe in mental agony, a distinct quacking sound echoes over the surrounding buzz. Minutes pass before it becomes a tooting noise.

Now, instead of ending with just the one, soon I’m flooded with the feeling of being stepped on and pushed around. The buzzing of insects intensifies as a stampede pushes me towards the light.

My death wasn’t brought about by the light, but I am freed of the constraints of solid ground. Blinded by sudden sunlight, my freefall ends without the breaking of bones. I just simply bounced off what I can only assume is the ground. Almost as if I weighed nothing.

I may not be the sharpest crayon in the knife box, but I certainly fell long enough that my death should’ve been guaranteed.

With my eyes finally recovering, I notice I’m surrounded by towering blades of grass in a wooded area. Looking further out, the trees start thinning out an unknown distance away.

More intense buzzing brings my attention back towards the skies. A cloud of thousands of honey bees flies overhead. The chaotic sphere of bees soon begins to take more orderly formations.

Astonishingly, the bees split off into multiple groups, each around the same thickness of 3 bees tall but with different shapes and angles. Forming hundreds of almost runic shapes surrounding what can only be a swarming queen.

A barely noticeable red flash pulses from the queen into the countless workers before ultimately going back into the queen. Still in formation, they suddenly disappear at breakneck speeds as if pushed by an invisible force.

Suddenly all is calm and the intense buzzing is now more similar to an indistinct murmur. Hidden beneath the sounds of the wind.

These strange events put me into enough shock that my once splitting headache is almost gone.

Bees shouldn’t be able to do that. Not once has a swarming hive ever flown with such coordination before. They flew in alignment in small groups while simultaneously circling around the queen, maintaining a unique shape and a set distance from each other.

Impossible!

I’m left in a daze from that glorious display for longer than I’d like to admit. The soft breeze, barely noticeable buzz of bees, and towering grass blades create an ambiance that simply left me gobsmacked.

I could go the entire day like this.

It’s a good thing I didn’t eat any salad for lunch, with the way salad passes through me, I might’ve needed a change of clothes after that freefall.

Like all good things, my quiet contemplation must come to an end. My rising horror at how strange my body feels and appears makes it impossible to enjoy this peace and quiet any longer.

Looking down to the best of my stocky “neck’s” ability, it’s apparent I’m no longer human. Two insect legs with some type of claws greet me, outside of my sight I can feel four more legs beneath me and presumed wings on my back.

It’s a safe guess that I’m now a bee. As delusional as I feel, this is my reality. I fell from what was obviously a hive. The quacking and tooting I heard at the beginning must’ve been the emergence of a new, young queen. Which would undoubtedly cause the old queen to swarm and leave the nest with a majority of the bees.

As for that crazy display of light and speed they accomplished. Welp, that’s not my major concern.

Right now, I’m more concerned about my growing hunger. And seeing how unlike all six of my legs, which I was able to use naturally despite never having middle limbs before, I have no idea how to even flex my wings. Let alone beat them fast enough to achieve air time.

Luckily it seems my new bee body accepts its reality a lot faster than I should've. New major changes typically take me at least three days of being upset before I move on and get over it.

Since I’m a bee, that means I eat honey. The only honey I know of is with the long disappeared queen and with the original hive. Who knows how far up the hive is, but it shouldn’t be too far up. Hopefully, it’s only a few feet since while I did fall for a few seconds, bees are a lot lighter so maybe I just fell slowly.

Now let’s take some baby steps and try to start fapping my wings.

Hrrmph. Heeeerah. Hah.

Nope. Nothing. I couldn’t even twitch these damn wings, let alone flap them.

Honestly, this is pretty stupid. How does a bee—a flying insect—not know how to fly? If anything this should be so hard-coded into this body that I shouldn’t even need to think about it.

Maybe that’s the problem. I’m thinking too much about it.

Before I can meditate and achieve the dao of the bee, a lone buzzing sound approaches me from above. It seems my missing presence has been noticed.

I hope they brought some honey for me. All this shock and exertion has me hungrier than a ghost.

I bet honey tastes amazing as a bee.