By Eliyana Abraham
Yellow buzzing, that’s it, yellow buzzing.
Yellow buzzing followed me around. Trees around me stood still and stoic, but yellow buzzing foraged its path not far behind mine. It drove me crazy.
It begrudgingly echoed, beneath the black skies, echoed bold, towards my brain. Yellow buzzing was fog, and it was floating around your feet.
Carefully, I crept towards the creek, away from the fog, crouching about the crooked bank, and the creek croaked and flowed like honey. When we heard the arctic accent of the water, we dove and swam until the drone of the river grew dark, and drought drove us out.
We clambered out; I was wet, the water was heavy and it clung to my insides. You shook dry like a dog, but the water was orphic and wandered towards you with well means and whirred noise.
Yellow buzzing grew grandiose with the growling grey of the evening. Almost twice we caught it in the palms of our hands, but it is precarious, and it projected itself away prior to our incarceration. It took many shapes, tonight it was oblong and ostentatious. As a matter of fact, it ordered the surroundings around until they were orderly, much like the surrounding sound of yellow buzzing.
Across the arching apple trees, the yellow buzzing appended itself upon each apple. The apples shook violently with the yellow buzzing, atrociously convulsing. The thin appendages which bonded the fruit to the breaking branches bellowed as the apples broke away, bleeding into the air and benevolently hitting the ground by our boots. They continued to shake combatively, vibrating and quivering. The noise was numbing. One apple fell into the palm of your hand. As it trembled, the trees trudged towards us, and the apples which remained on the trees posed questions. As you were cordial, you smiled in return with a look of looming limerence.
All the apples around us possessed yellow buzzing, and we asked a question back.
We whispered, they croaked, eyes gleaming, and the heart of the yellow buzzing skittered.