Yes, this is based on a true story. In fact, the part of it that’s true happened just last weekend. Of course, the truth (or at least the truth I’m aware of) only extends to the fifth paragraph of this. I think I’ll do some more with this later, though, since I think it has potential to go somewhere. But judge that for yourselves — I hope you enjoy this!
SMACK! With one single, unexpected onomatopoeia, her life had changed forever. Her wings barely fluttered as she fell down to the strange, white, flat earth, wailing her legs as she lay in pain. There was a boom of triumph above her, one of the great giants holding the tool of her demise in his hand. A fly swatter. Of all things, it had to be a fly swatter. She ate flies, for breakfast, and now their bane was hers as well.
Fortunately, her tough exoskeleton had protected her from splattering against the floor. If she could some how move or fly, she could easily survive this. But she couldn’t move – she just lay on her side, twitching her legs as the pain of impact rendered all rational thought impossible.
In a moment, she was aware of the giant’s presence again, this time holding a white object in its hand, which it used to smother her and lift her off the ground. Now she lay writhing in folds of some kind of cloth as she felt the distance shock of the giant’s footsteps and the crushing press of the giant’s fingers on her fragile body.
After several moments of this torment, she suddenly felt release, and a rush. She was falling again, but once again there was nothing she could do about it. She was too tightly wrapped in the white cloth. A coldness spread over her, and she realized she was in a great bowl of water, the high walls casting a deep shadow over the surface of the pool. The cloth was soaked in a second, and she struggled harder than ever to escape, to flee from the coldness and the wetness and the pain.
But before she managed that, there was a sound, like a great gulp, coming from the depths of the pool in which she lay. A new force grabbed hold of her, pulling her to the center of the water and then down, down, down, into darkness.
She splashed and spluttered, protected a little from the water by the soaked cloth, all while she rushed unstoppably through some strange tunnel. It was utterly black, and every collision with the tunnel walls pained her – they were probably made of something stronger than dirt or stone. And then there was the water, cascading, rushing, drowning all in its path in its mad rush for who knew where. All her many eyes could see was nothing – utter blackness covered her sight like a blindfold, darker than the deepest night she had ever known.
Then the tunnel opened up wide, coming out into a much greater tunnel; a great river of dark water covered the floor, and she plunged right into this, spluttering as she attempted to rise to the surface, her cloth no longer giving her its protection as it sank beneath the waves. Fortunately, she found some red cylinder, and she climbed up on this, resting after her exhaustive journey. The sound of the rushing water surrounded her, and only a dim light illuminated the tunnel, which was massive. Could there really be such grand places underneath the earth? But she was a child of the air, not of the earth, and she longed for green grass and trees and most of all her nest, where her sisters and her mother tended the larvae and gathered nectar and meat.
She could not rest here on this little island amidst the stormy river for much longer, largely because of how cold she was. She fluttered her wings a little, knowing that, not only would it get her moving, but also warm her up. They worked. She clicked her mandibles in delight, and then she rose into the air. There had to be a way out of here somewhere, and she was going to find it.
She flew higher and higher, until she reached near the top of the large tunnel. Her sisters had always told her she had one of the worst senses of direction in the colony, and it had certainly not helped her before she was attacked by the giants. But now she flew from corner to corner, sniffing out the air, warming herself up admirably.
And then she found it. The way out. But it was blocked. A great slab of stone that let in only the faintest pheromones of flowers and familiarity – and nothing else. She was stuck in here, probably forever. She flew around the slab, trying to find any way to get through, but none availed her. She descended to the ground, despairing. If she had had tear ducts, she might have cried.
But as she wallowed in her misery, she heard a new sound. A loud sort of scuffling against the rough stone earth. She looked around, and there was a large, hairy beast. It was round and long, with a pointed snout and a long, pinkish tale. She rose, buzzing toward it. It stopped by the river and looked in. It’s hand plunged in and retrieved a piece of food, some fruit of some kind that she had never seen before. The odd beast put the thing in its mouth and turned away, scampering off through the great tunnel. She followed it, down through small holes and cracks, until the place opened up to a great area, with many other creatures, most like the beast, though not a few different. And now hope sprang within her. If these creatures could live down here, why couldn’t she?