Click here to add text.
THE HIVE
By
Tala Bar
“What the hell!" said Ofara the Witch when the woman stood suddenly before her. She was tall, with golden brown hair falling to her shoulders, and a golden shine in her eyes. She was dressed in a long, brown and gold garment. “Oh, it’s you, Debra!"
“I’m sorry. Didn’t you notice the bee? You’re deep in thoughts when I came through the window, I fear.” To all purposes, Debra looked like an ordinary, if impressive, woman; only two features of the bee she kept in her human form: a pair of antennae hidden in her thick hair, and her sting in the shape of a dagger covered by the folds of her garment. As far as Ofara knew, Debra had never used that sting in her life.
“Ah, never mind,” the Witch replied. In great contrast to Debra, she was short and round with dark hair and eyes, and was usually dressed in black. She lived in a small apartment on the second floor of a block of flats, where she also conducted her business of astrological and other soothsaying craft for anxious visitors.
"So," she said to Debra; "What is it this time, Mother Bee? Are your daughters revolting again, or has one of them got lost, or have they eaten too much honey and are making themselves sick?” The irony in the Witch’s voice had not escaped the Bee woman’s sharp ears, but she had to ignore it for the sake of her immediate need.
“I’m sorry I only come to you for help, but you know how the life of a bee is, always busy.”
“As you say,” Ofara replied with a tinge of sarcasm. Being of roughly the same age, Ofara and Debra had met at the same witches training camp; but their roads in life separated after the course, having different talents and calling in life. Their friendship, however, held throughout the years, even though Debra rarely came to see Ofara in her apartment; it was usually the Witch who occasionally visited the Mother Bee at the Hive, Debra had created as a home for herself and her follower. “So," Ofara added, "tell me what happened.”
“My daughter, Debbie, has stung a man,” said the Bee woman. In contrast to Ofara and her solitary ways, Debra had always been a family person, and liked to surround herself with people close to her.
“Oh?” said the Witch. Then, after a pause, “Is he dead?”
“Of course not. But he's gone mad and is intent on destroying the Hive. He’s collected a bunch of young men, armed with weapons of sticks, knives, and who knows what else, and they are gathering a short distance from it.”
“Why not call the police, then?” asked Ofara. Society was quite open, after all, to all kinds of quirks and eccentrics, as long as they did not harm it in any way. Attacking a peaceful community, as strange as it might seem to outsiders, was considered breaking the peace and was liable to be stopped by the authorities.
"Well –" Debra hesitated.
The Witch looked at her more closely. She did not want to invade her friend's thought, as she had the ability to do, but she could feel that her reluctance had some reason behind it. “So," she said, "what’d you want me to do?”
“I want you to talk to that man."
Again Ofara sensed the silent words behind the spoken ones. "Who is he, then?" she asked at last, using this time such a tone that would compel the other to answer more frankly.
Debra delayed her answer but at last she said, reluctantly, “He’s my son, Debbie's twin..."
"Ah!"
At last, the story was coming out, and the Witch was curious to hear what she had not known up till then. She knew, of course, that the Bee could not fulfill her calling without having descendants. The Hive, a sprawling building situated on the edge of one of the City's suburb, was populated solely with women, none of them a bee shape-shifter except Debra. These were women of all ages, but only adults could be accepted from the outside to join the community; the young were children born inside the Hive. They were conceived after the occasional sex orgies taking place with men brought from the outside, but only the girls would be kept to be reared at the Hive, while the boys would be given away, mostly to their fathers or their families to be brought up in ordinary human society. Debra's daughters inherited her power of bee shape-shifting, passing from mother to daughter through the generations.
Ofara had never known that Debbie was born a twin, with a brother she had never met as he was given back to his father soon after his birth. That man, who was single at the time, married later and had other children; it just happened that the boy grew up with some bitterness in his heart against the mother who had abandoned him.
Ofara had known the girl, Debbie, since her childhood. Looking much like her mother, she grew up to be a militant soul who liked arguments and thrived on aggressive rows. It seemed now, though, that a new kind of violence was developing behind that vehement nature that was unexpected. Ofara, always a searching soul, did not object to an attempt to find out the cause of that disturbance.
"Have you any idea how you son found out about his origin?" she asked, "And, what's his name?" she added.
"Goren. I think, somewhere or other, he met Debbie. We go out into the world sometimes, you know. The two of them, having a kindred spirit, were drawn together; an argument broke out between them and the girl stabbed him with her sting – not too seriously, of course. It seems she was provoked by some rude words her brother uttered about the way she was living."
"He must have found out about the Hive, then," Offara sympathized. Relations between certain kind of independent females and some men were never easy, of which she was aware from her own experience. She herself had no inclination to rear children, which made her own life much easier.
“All right,” she said, “I’ll see what I can do.”
***
With Debra turning back into a bee and flying away, and Ofara using her teleport talent, the two women reached the Hive about the same time. The Hive was a sprawling building, divided into small, individual dwelling apartments for the residents; it was not accepted for any woman to rear more than one daughter at the time. The Mother Bee's quarters, on the other hand, served also as a place of general meetings, eating facilities and the like, besides her private more elaborate rooms.
Turning herself back into human form as she arrived, Debra immediately asked the women who had welcomed her back, "Where is Debbie?" She went inside looking for her daughter without waiting for an answer.
The girl appeared almost at once, as if sensing the need for her. "Are you looking for me, Ofara?” she asked.
“Your mother is trying to correct a mistake you’ve made, honey,” the Witch said in an unusual sweet voice, seeing again the irony in her words, which the other one was oblivious of. “Here she comes,” she added, as the older woman. The only difference between Debra and Debbie was in the garments they wore, for the girl was dressed in modern clothes of short pants and blouse in bright colors, rather than the bee’s traditional brown and gold garment.
"Here you are!" the mother said as a sort of accusation.
"It's no fault of mine!" her daughter answered this indirect charge.
“The sting is traditional, but you should have died using it, child,” her mother said, severely.
“Well, no harm done. He’s not dead and he can go back to that father of his." There were tears in her voice, and for the first time Ofara thought that perhaps the girl had missed having a father when she was growing up. Mother Bee could not have thought about that when they separated him, could she? And perhaps she even missed that brother she shared womb with but did not find on her birth.
“Let’s go in, sit down and talk, what we should have done before you attacked each other," Debra said, leading the way. “You know,” she said to her daughter,” that soon you’ll be able to transform and fly like a bee, like me. Have you thought about it? I told you that many times but you wouldn’t believe me.”
“I'm not quite sure I want to be a bee,” was the answer. The girl’s head was lowered, and her tears were evident now on her soft cheeks. “And, particularly, a Mother Bee. What can I do with such a talent? I’m not a leader like you, Mother, and I don’t have a swarm of my own.”
“Everyone has to start somewhere, and I’ll help you as my mother helped me when I had to leave her Hive and start on my own. Don’t worry about it, but you must relinquish your aggressive ways and be more thoughtful of what you are doing.”
Debbie raised her head and looked at her mother with shining golden eyes, the antennae on her head peeped above her short brown hair. “You’ll have to let your hair grow thicker, if you want to hide those,” Debra said, smiling at her.
“So,” the girl asked, “what are we going to do about that coming attack? Are we going to fight back?”
“Not this time, although we would if the case was different. But Goren is not altogether to blame for this either, you know. I'll have to talk to him but I hope Ofara will do it first, that’s why I bought her with me.”
***
They came out again, and this time noticed the bunch of youngsters that was gathered at some distance from the Hive. As Ofara was wondering who of them was Debra’s son, she noticed the bee flying over one of the young men. She looked at him with interest, trying to find any trace of Debra's or Debbie's look in him. The only similarity between mother and son was his tall stature, otherwise he had fair hair and dark eyes, which he must have inherited from his unknown father. According to Debbie, he seemed to have been aggressive like her, which was also unlike their mild-tempered mother.
Ofara approached him and said in a calm but firm voice, “I’d like to talk to you, Goren.
“Who are you and how do you know my name?” he asked, belligerently.
“Do you see that bee hovering above your head? This is your mother.”
He stared at her, emitting a loud curse.
“You can’t help it,” she insisted; “the fact is not going away. She did not mean you to ever find out, but as you have, you’ll have to accept it.”
“Never!” he shouted. “I’m going to destroy her and this abomination here, so that no sign of it can ever remain!”
“Even if you do, it will not go away. Your Mother Bee will get off and found another Hive, together with your Sister Bee, the one who stabbed you, and you’ll remain with a bad memory and perhaps a police record. Is that what you want?”
The young man stared at her, then raised his eyes to the bee, that kept buzzing over his head. “Isn’t she going to sting me?” he asked, and Ofara thought she heard tears in his choking voice.
“No, she’s never stung anyone in her life. Your sister is young and zealous, but she also has learned her lesson, so you don’t need to fear her either.”
“Fear! I’ve never feared anything in my life!” he exclaimed. “Lads, come on, we are going to attack that building over there, destroy everything!” He turned his back to Ofara, leading away the gang that followed him toward the Hive.
“What shall we do?” the Bee buzzed at the Witch.
“I’ll have to give it some thought. In the meantime, call Debbie to come and confront him herself. There may be something between these two that can be more effective.”
Seeing the bee buzzing off toward the Hive, Ofara followed in the same direction after the young men. There were some people who knew her as a witch with certain powers; in this case, however, she felt rather helpless. The whole thing looked no more than a family quarrel, no matter what physical shape its members had assumed.
Wondering about the twins' father, the Witch suddenly had an idea. She stopped on her way and concentrated; after a while she saw a man with fair hair and dark eyes sitting at a desk in a broker’s office, working on his computer. She concentrated even more, and a scene appeared on the screen, very different from the stock exchange figures and markings. It was a picture of a sprawling building, full of merry females all dressed in brown and gold. At their head was a tall, impressive looking woman, whose shiny brown hair and golden eyes captivated his heart. A memory assailed his mind of a glowing summer day and a sweet meeting of bodies he had never tasted before. Then it was gone, and he found himself again sitting at his computer in his broker’s office. He shook his head but the Witch would not let go. With a flash of her mind's strength she grasped at him, swept him off his seat, and in a moment he was standing before her, near the Hive at the city’s suburb.
“Wha – who –" he stammered, choking with the shock, looking in great bewilderment at the little dark woman in front of him.
“Tell me,” she said in a quiet but urgent voice, “Why did you have to tell him? He’s making trouble now, which I’m sure you don’t want. Besides, you’ve never met your daughter, and perhaps you should.”
“What are you talking about? Who are you?” he demanded. Ofara did not answer but was pulling him toward the Hive. “Come, nothing else matters. You know what the place is so hurry, before it's too late.”
"Too late for what?" he barely managed to ask, but followed her, forced more by the force of her personality than her pull.
They got to the Hive’s entrance just in time. Goren and Debbie were standing at the entrance, arguing as loudly as possible, while the youths seemed paused for a ready attack. The twins' father stood for a moment, watching the two in wonder. He saw himself as a young man, confronted by that sweet and fantastic figure he had made love to such a long time ago, who was handing him their newly born son to rear.
"You didn't know about the daughter born together with your son, did you?" Ofara asked, gently, and he shook his head in amazement. "You are the only one who can make peace between them,” the Witch said.
"I don't know how to go about such thing," he replied, sullenly. "I don't even know the girl, or what she might do when she's angry!"
As if in answer to that sense of insecurity, with no obvious provocation and no previous warning – something Goren must have said to Debbie, Ofara thought, as she saw the girl turning into a bee, flying at the young man and hitting him in the face. In a moment, the bee was lying at his feet, trembling.
At once her mother, who had been watching them at some distance, was onto her, her hand hovering over the dying bee as she was crying out, "Turn back, Debbie, you don't need to die! Turn back, quickly, just a slight effort!"
A long moment passed before, at last, the girl's figure on the ground replaced that of the bee.
"What has just happened?" The father by the Witch's side asked in wonder.
"As a bee, she would have died after using her sting," she said softly, her voice trembling.
He cursed under his breath. "I think something good may come out of it at least," Ofara tried to reassure him. She approached the mother who was helping her daughter up, with the son and brother standing at some distance, still stunned.
"She was too early turning," Debra said, darkly; "it wasn't her time, yet."
"What now?" Ofara asked.
"Now, and listen to that, Debbie. You are going to live as a bee without a sting, and you can never carry that weapon with you as human."
"What'd you mean, I can't?" the girl was still defiant.
"I mean, that it won't stay on you, whatever you do, so you must learn to live without a weapon. You'll have to learn to use your brain instead, you've been mentally relying too much on your sting potential to learn any sense."
"And what about him, and his foul words about us?" she pointed at her brother, whose face was swelling to a frightening proportion.
"He'll also have to accept his origin, whatever he may think about it. Hallo, Deen," she added, looking at the twin's father, whose name Ofara heard for the first time.
"Debra? You haven't changed much, have you?" He sounded hesitating, quite confused at the sight in front of him.
"It's no good," the Bee-woman said – rather severely, the Witch thought. "We cannot have anything to do with each other, nor our children. It can only lead to trouble, even if she's deprived of her sting."
"Still," he answered, mildly, "I'm glad I've had an opportunity to see you once more, and that lovely daughter of mine. Now, Goren, come on, let's go home and leave these good people to themselves. And we'll have to see to that cheek of yours; you really know how to get yourself into trouble. You are indeed this girl's brother and no mistake."
Click herAbout Tala in her own words: I am a writer and artist and I live in Israel. I studied Hebrew and English languages and literature and hold an M.Phil. degree in literature from London University. My main interest is mythology, but I also write fantasy and science fiction stories, novellas and books, many of which have been published in print and on the Net, both in Hebrew and English. A link to my Online published writings is in Tala's Space: http://cid-27cbdd735d2a1560.spaces.live.com/default.aspx?wa=wsignin1.0
And my art works in Flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/54169985@N00/
e to add text.
July- August- September 2009 Issue No. 7
Home
Vote here
Links
