by Chris Smith
***
The dark figure waited for them to leave before walking to the bench. James’ beautiful garden hummed with the activity of the scorpion bees making honey. Faster than lightning, the dark figure plucked a bee from a nearby sunflower. Squeezing the creature between his fingers, the figure delighted in its pain. The creature squirmed as the pressure built. The scorpion bee’s gut popped slightly, spilling out some of its intestines. The dark figure laughed, shelled the creature like a prawn, and dropped it into its mouth still alive. With a wicked smile, his eyes flashed. The dark figure clapped his hands. Instantly, everything began to die: bees, flowers, they all withered back until the garden was once again empty and barren, exactly as James had discovered it. The dark figure sprinted away into the darkness.
Chapter Nine: Running the Gauntlet of Hate.