Day 1

I wake to a floral scent hollow with hunger. The cave around me is dark and crumbly, cool to touch. I wriggle towards the fragrant mound taking up most of the cave and test it with my tongue. It’s sticky sweet and slips down my throat with a bitter aftertaste. My belly expands. I doze off, cuddling the sticky mound.

Day 5

I wake, eat, sleep on repeat. My tongue explores this mound of nectar and pollen – one side packs sharp sweetness, while another swirls with fruity tartness. My favourite is the spicy tingle from the back of the mound.

A winged creature appears in my dreams, mixing nectar and pollen from different flowers into this mound. She is fuzzy and black, with a long tube pointing out of her mouth, and shiny oval eyes. Who is she? Where is she? I myself don’t have wings. How fun to flap and move without touching the ground.

Day 9

Munching sounds pulse through the walls of my cave on either side. Are there more like me? Do they eat from sticky mounds of bee bread like mine? Were their mounds shaped by the same winged creature I dreamt of? Will I ever meet them?

Day 27

My mound of bee bread is shrinking. My body is taking up more of the cave and it’s hard to move. A sweet ivy scent wafts from the cave wall, but when I taste it, the wall is bland and chalky. I almost choke.

I hear from outside the cave the whoosh of air filtering through brambles. I hear liquid rolling from a whisper to a howl. Sometimes I hear terrifying squawks, barks, squeaks and chirps but I’m safe in my cave. The gurgling liquid lulls me to sleep.

Day 49

It’s cold and my food is gone. My front legs weave the thread spilling from my mouth into a blanket around my body – a blanket cave, you could call it. A cave within a cave. Here it’s warm. Here it’s quieter. The munching sounds next door have stopped. I want to sleep for a long time.

Day 153

I wake hot and thirsty but there’s not a drop to drink. This cocoon is feeling cramped – I can’t be here a minute longer! Its tight weave splits under my teeth. The cave walls crumble easily against my jaw as well. As I chew my way out, I see other empty cells like mine. My neighbours must have left too.

There’s a light ahead, and the familiar rolling liquid sounds clearer. Salty air rushing into the cave cools my head. Suddenly my body is not wriggling, but crawling with legs. I have legs! One, two in the front, one, two behind, and one, two in the back. I can move so much faster now.

All the hairs on my body are standing up as I approach the mouth of the cave and see a huge expanse of the water, with bands of dark blue, light blue and aqua-green waves lapping towards me. So this is the liquid I’d been hearing. I jump towards the water, flapping my wings. I have wings!

Day 165

There is so much sweetness outside calling me – flowers that smell just like my bee bread. My thirst is quenched by sharp sweet nectar from purple flowers shaped like a moth about to take flight.

Clusters of fuzzy yellow flowers ooze a heady scent taste and swirl in my mouth like the tangy part of my bee bread. Flowers full of nectar glow under the sun’s ultraviolet light, while flowers drunk empty by other bees are pale and easy to skip. I slurp nectar until my eyes are rolling back, until my whole body wobbles.

Day 174

Mating season passed, and my body is heavy with eggs. I don’t sleep as I did as a larva. To dig a new tunnel into the cliff, my jaw crumbles yellow silty soil while my legs brush the loosened soil away. Strong winds push my body now left, now right, but I hang on. In the distance, across the river, I see jagged white cliffs. Sometimes I get distracted watching waves crash into the base of those chalky cliffs. The buzz of my sister bees brings my attention back to our pebbly yellow cliff. I don’t talk to them, but it’s nice to know I’m not digging alone, that we’re all working under the sun.

Day 182

My tunnel deepens. From the main tunnel, I dig branching cave rooms like the one I grew up in. My body is heavy. I’ve got to finish my tunnel so I can lay my eggs and mix nectar and pollen into bee bread for them. Maybe when I’m done, I’ll be light enough to visit those white cliffs.

Day 189

While collecting nectar to seal my cave from pesky ants, I hear a loud rumbling from the sky. I hide under a waxy leaf while raindrops drum on leaves and petals. Their pitter patter used to echo through the walls of my cave.

When I get back to the cliff, however, a huge chunk is missing, including the bit where I had been digging my nest. I fly all over the cliff, looking for that patch of yellow earth but can’t find it anywhere.

Luckily, I haven’t laid my eggs yet. Should I dig another tunnel here, or find a new home elsewhere? I am so tired, and just want my babies to be safe.

Day 193

I dig furiously into a new patch of chalky soil. Some of my sister bees who also lost nests are making new ones too.

It feels so good to lay down my eggs, one in each cell. I seal the cells with soil and nectar so wasps and ants can’t steal my babies’ tasty bee bread.

My work is done. Should I visit those white cliffs now?

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