The sound of honeybees


THE OLD MAN was walking down the stone sidewalk when he realized he felt no stone. And then he saw that he was an inch or so above the surface, which was quite strange.

Being a quick study, he knew that he was dead. He stopped the stroll and looked around. The sky was not blue. It was as clear green as the sea off Luquillo Beach in Puerto Rico where he had once lived. And the rock wall in front of him was pink with yellow highlights.

Dead, but he had ascended only an inch or so, which was quite insufficient, he knew. Perhaps there was bad karma to burn off. If so, he had no idea how to do that. Perhaps a voice would tell him.

But there was no voice. Just the soft sound of honeybees.

He stood stock still and waited for further instructions.

4 thoughts on “The sound of honeybees

    1. Ray: Alas, I got nuttin’. The fiction stuff, which I prefer, just is not coming to me of late. I think it may have something to do with my mindset, my attitude, which has changed in the last year or so. I was thinking about that in bed this morning.


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