The Hive

We’re buzzing in our pews, the electricity of raw gossip flitting around us like so many wings. We feed on it, spread it around like a honey that sticks. Our madam archdeacon is at the center of it all, and if the rumors are true, no vestment can hide her guilt from the likes of us.

The service is about to start. The organ hums to life, signalling the start of the processional: the venerable queen is about to emerge. Suspicion thickens the air like pollen. Our faces turn towards the narthex, primed to sting. Conditions are favorable for swarming.

 

Ingrid Jendrzejewski likes cryptic crosswords, the game of Go, and the python programming language, among other things. Links to her work can be found at www.ingridj.com, and she tweets @LunchOnTuesday.

Photo Credit: Allagash Brewing

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