"Midnight Theater: Are famous bees called honey stars?"

#bodyhorror #trypophobia #specialgueststar #firsteverpost #NoBetaWeDieLikeMen #yikes

I was a killer, an assassin maybe, although I didn’t know who I was working for. Whether my employers were good or bad, it was never clear to me. I only remembered the expressions of the civilians trapped within the building I had entered alongside my other comrades. It was fear, in its rawest of forms. My mission was not to hurt them, I made it clear as I gave instructions, guided them to safety. However, none of my words got through to their hysterical state. One other aspect about them that struck me deeply were their eyes. They were incredible unfocused, like the glassy eyes of an old abandoned doll.

Then I was at a camp, a military camp. I had a group of friends with me too. Their names were Four, Vancouver, and Main. There was another one but I couldn’t remember his name. Our instructor? Captain? Was a nice guy. He was always cheerful and had a can-do attitude. He was Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. However, he defected. He did and was still doing some shady stuff within the army, and he wasn’t alone. I went to confront him but he was trying desperately to persuade me not to rat him out. He had this whole monologue planned out and everything. He went on comparing the world, the planets, and the stars, to cereal. Like specifically Honey Stars. But a single piece was massive! In addition, he had this ability to bend space and time where he could manipulate the ground and made the cereal bigger or break them apart by will. He also went on to compare the government and society to bees and its hive. Funny enough, there was a beehive not too far from where we were standing. I wasn’t having any of it though and was adamant on exposing him.

The second I told him that, I got stung, multiple times, by the bees from that nearby hive. I had so many bee stings. Odd thing about it was, it didn’t hurt that much. But the fear of looking at the rapidly swelling warts were more painful. The stingers left behind were also quite unusual. I went back home afterwards and saw my mother and brother, but they didn’t look so much like them. I told them that I had gotten stung and it hurt. They laughed. I cried. And for a brief moment, they were slightly worried about me, but just as sudden as the change of heart was, they immediately went back to watching TV. I wanted to get rid of the stingers left behind but as I took them out, one-by-one, the stingers looked like small glass cylinders, leaving medium sized holes within me. My face and forearms were peppered with these indentations. I placed them all on a table but they fell to the ground and made a loud clanging noise. It echoed and reverberated so strongly within my head. I cried yet no tears came out, I hadn’t realized then that I was having trouble breathing.

I was at a mall, but not your typical mall. It had a somewhat opened air concept and rows upon rows of shops. I had 5 ringgit in hand, but I didn’t want to use it for myself. The area I was walking in had trash strewn about but people had lived on the streets before, those were their marks, weren't they? Or was it ours? I paid no mind to it. I wanted to use the money that I had, to buy some pay-it-forward food stamps so others could use it. I went into this one restaurant, my mother and brother were there with me as well. They looked more like them this time. The place served “Ayam Penyet” and had a loud and busy atmosphere to it. Contrary to its state, there weren’t a lot of people there. I went to the cashier to ask about the pay-it-forward system there, but he didn’t hear me. Or was it that he didn’t see me? I raised my voice more and more, but for some weird reason it came out softer than my usual obnoxiously loud voice, yet it was still firm and clear. My brother saw this whole scene play out and came to help me. He had a drink in his hand at the time, soy milk. The kind you’d find in flimsy plastic containers in 7 Eleven or FamilyMart. To get the cashier’s attention, he aggressively, as per his usual behavior, slammed the drink on the counter and monotonously asked him about the service. The cashier was visibly intimidated and nervously excused himself as he hurried along to the back of the restaurant to ask someone about it. At that moment my brother told me to ditch this place and looked for another one. He told me that they didn’t even give a damn about me, so I shouldn’t do the same to them. I agreed.

So I left and went out of the restaurant, I headed to this clearing where some steps, leading towards a road were visible. It was night time but the sky had a dark purple, pink, and orange gradient to it. The sky didn’t look like the one I’d seen all my life. Visible lines like the trajectory of stars that would normally whiz past the earth as it rotated, you know like the ones you’d see in time lapse videos of the sky, were seen. But there were also stars that were stagnant and without those odd lines. Peculiar shaped speckles dotted the stunning view as well. And at that moment, underneath the vast and unfamiliar sky, I felt lost. But for once, I was finally able to breathe.

I woke up with tears in my eyes in the cold air-conditioned room of my mother’s.