Honey & the Bee

The air hung dank; its moist outreach heralding the rains to come, floating above the forest, with its festering, corrupting leaves, and expiring refuse.

Francesco sensed woefully that the group of men who were approaching close by were undesirables.

A cluster of starlings hurriedly confided their concern with a sharpish call.

This camp had become Francesco’s home, around which hung enormous bulbs of beehives, that drooped from the trees like heavy lanterns, thickly fragrant when the warm winds coaxed their sweet waxed scent from their cells.

He lived wholesomely feeding from their honey, utilising their greasy matrix for the confectionary of balm and candles - their tacky amber was alight with life, and this etheric goodness sustained him well.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances