The bees are in the walls.The W.E.L.L.was right.
I found them through a crawlspace under the house (I was the only one willing to go in), and we confirmed with a “bee relocation expert” we finally got out here. They don’t have a centralized hive.The house is the hive.They move through the spaces between the walls every day, following the sun as it passes overhead, following the warmth, I guess.He said he’s never seen anything like it. He set up swarm traps in the trees outside and said if those don’t work, it’ll take a team to extract them.And maybe gutting the house.
The really bad news is that there’s no comb, no honey, no brood cells from what we could tell. And maybe no queen.With winter coming, that all means they might not survive to the end of the year.
Mom is thrilled.She sees an end in sight.And as for the “haunting,” she’s now blamed every weird thing that’s happened in the house these past few months on the bees.
None of my fam wanted to believe in the supernatural to begin with so I’m officially useless again. She told me I didn’t have to stay. I could go back to New York. But, she doesn’t know about the “diary entries” She wouldn’t believe me if I did.
As far as I know, my grandmother never kept a diary.I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong, but I think her “diary” is what she told the bees before she died.And if those memories, those “entries” are the last connection to her, I can’t just leave and let them go.I can’t let them take the bees or gut this house.Or let them die without doing what I can to keep them safe.She would want me to. I’m not much for “purpose” but I feel like I need to be here, stay here. I need to see this through. For her.