Short Essay Draft

Bees
I couldn’t will myself to get out of the truck. Stacks of pure white boxes stared at me, concealing the terror that waited inside. My lungs expanded, filling with new, fresh oxygen. With a burst of courage, I emerged from the truck into the heat of the day. Covered from head to toe I trekked to the loads of horror. With one more major breath, I lifted the lid. Out swarmed an army of bees. Hundreds of little soldiers, searching for the culprit who caused their disturbance. With a puff of smoke from my smoker, they calm and return to work. And I too, return to my work. Replaying this pattern of rage and calm over and over until the sky filled with tiny, buzzing soldiers. I go about my work and for a few minutes forget that I am engulfed by the swarm. But quickly, the throbbing pain in my leg whips me back to reality. The stinger is removed and I’m left with the annoying stinging pain for the next few minutes.
But what is the bee left with? Death. What a curious phenomenon. A bee spends her whole life serving her queen. From the moment she is able to, she begins to search for ways to help her queen, and her family. She flies from field to field, from flower to flower, searching for pollen. Back in the hive, she works tirelessly to turn her findings into honey. Honey for her hive to eat. Honey, more importantly, for her queen to eat. She eats herself, and then goes right back out to the field and begins her search yet again. Oh the life of a bee; creating food, eating, creating food, eating. Ultimately, the bee is fully devoted to her queen. She does nothing, except if it benefits her leader. And that’s her life, day after day. Week after week. But then, something comes along and interrupts her routine. I come along and disturb her hive. I come along and endanger her queen. So she swarms. She flies around and around my head, warning me of getting too close. I get annoyed with her persistence and continually knock her away. Thinking maybe she’ll give up her fight if I launch her far enough away. But of course she doesn’t give up. This is her hive, her family, and her queen. And I’m overstepping her boundaries. Finally I go too far for her comfort, and she has to do something. So she digs her stinger into my leg.
For a moment, her defense works. I yell in pain as the sting becomes deeper and more intense. She flies victorious, for she has defeated her enemy. I can no longer intrude upon her hive. But then, after a few short minutes, she is dead. And I am free to go back to my work in her hive. After all the hard work and dedication she put into that hive for her queen, she is gone. Her act of defense would be her final act, the end of her life. And I caused that. I was the disturbance that forced that little bee to act so courageously. I wonder if she knew that by stinging me to protect her queen, she would in turn giver her own life. That knowledge wouldn’t have made a difference; the end result would have been the same.