The Bee Man

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
On a cold night in a dark street, a strangely dressed man has arranged a meeting with a woman.

Submitted: November 07, 2012

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Submitted: November 07, 2012



Bee Man


It was a cold night. A chill wind bit into exposed skin, and whipped piles of leaves into flurries of motion. Thick clouds hung low in the sky, obscuring the pale light of the moon that vainly tried to shine threw them.

The street was dark and empty. No pedestrian’s walked the footpaths and no cars drove down the road. Old oaks stood solemnly at intervals along the street, their branches creaking as they swayed slowly in the wind. A single streetlight flickered on the corner, the light from its failing bulb setting shadows dancing and twisting amongst the boughs of the oak that loomed nearby.

All of the houses that lined the street had their doors shut, and the curtains drawn tight. The homes emitted no light or sound, the residents of them gave no indicators of their existence.

A cat sat on a wall, peering into the night as it performed its midnight vigil. A figure stepped into the light at the end of the street, casting a long shadow with the flickering light behind it. The cat leaped off the wall with a yowl and into the safety of a nearby bush.

A strange buzzing sound began to permeate the silence. The streetlight flickered and went out, and the figure was swept up in darkness once more. The figure slowly began to walk down the middle of the road. At the other end of the street another person appeared, and the two began to approach one another.

An owl began to hoot, slowly drawing out a long and mournful note. It hooted once more, and then stopped. The strange buzzing was building to an intense hum.

The two people arrived in the middle of the street, then stopped and regarded each other. The light of the moon broke through the clouds, illuminating the two.

One was a woman. The other – much to the woman’s shock – was a man dressed in a striped and colourful Bee suit.

The woman took a step back, “You- You’re the guy from Eharmony?”

The costumed man began to speak, ‘In this moonlight, I couldn’t help but notice...”

“Notice what?”

The man said in a barely audible whisper, “Honey, you are bee-utiful.”

The woman gave a nervous giggle. The man continued, “You’re such a beautiful flower, I just want to bee with you.”

The woman laughed and smiled, “You’re sweet.”

The buzzing was building in volume. The bee-costumed man grinned, “Sweet as honey, baby.”

She laughed again, “You’re funny, too!” Now she took a step forward, “But I’m sorry, it won’t work out.”

“Why not?”

She gave an apologetic smile, “I’m allergic to bees.”

A look of fury descended over the man’s features. A strange writhing cloud was forming around him; the buzzing had abruptly built to an intensely loud screech. The owl gave a frightened hoot and abandoned its perch in a flurry of feathers.

The man lifted a quavering hand and pointed a shaking finger at the cowering woman, “BEES, DESCEND ON HER!”

The woman let out a terrified scream as the writhing cloud enveloped her in an angry swarm, stinging her over and over again. Eventually the screaming stopped, and the swarm of bees dispersed into the cold night.

The costumed man had vanished.


 A postman found the bloated and swollen body the next morning, and had phoned the police. Now a mass of officers scoured the whole area, desperately searching for any clues.

The Detective in charge stood smoking a cigarette, staring in consternation at the body before him. His deputy trod over and gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. He said in an awed whisper, “I can’t believe this has happened, I’ve never known bees to get anyone this bad. She must have pissed off one hell of a hive.”

The Detective shook his head, “There’s no hives nearby, we’ve checked. This is the third incident this month where a woman has been killed this way,” The Detective took a long drag of his cigarette, “Somehow, a serial killer has learnt how to command bees.”

The Deputy gave a slow whistle, “Well, bugger me. I think we’re going to have to enlist the help a specialist for this one, Sir.”

The Detective looked up from the body at the brooding clouds. He nodded, “I know a guy,” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small blue business card and passed it to his deputy. A light rain was slowly starting to drizzle down and the Detective trudged back to his car.

The Deputy looked down at the card he held and read it quietly aloud, “Bear man. When something’s un-bearable, better call me…” He stuffed the card into his pocket and hurried after the Detective. This was going to be one hell of a case.

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