Last Entries Forum
by Noa Covo, 3.24am May 10th 2021
The excerpts in this forum are the last known diary entries of missing Bear Creek residents. If you see anything that might pertain to these missing persons, please inform the town council.
There is a girl full of wasps living in the house across the street. I saw her last night, when she sat next to the window, the wasps creating a halo around her curls. I waved hello, and she waved back.
I do not know where the wasp girl came from. She does not belong to the couple who live in the house. They tolerate her existence. They leave bowls of sugar water for the wasps, and baloney sandwiches for the girl, but she is not theirs. I do not think she is anyone’s except for the town. We all belong here, and we all belong to here. This is not the sort of small town one escapes.
Sometimes, when the world is dark and still, the girl comes to visit me. The wasps take her. They crawl out of her nose, her mouth, and grip her by her shirt and take her out her window and press her against mine. She taps on the glass and I let her in.
The girl is about my age. She does not go to school, because she is comprised of insects, but she tells me stories, and her voice drones softly in my ear those nights, until I fall asleep. Some nights, we stay up all night, and she tries to describe how she sees, all the little eyes taking in everything, and I tell her what it is like to have only two and she laughs and I stare at her lips. I do not know where the wasp girl came from. The way she tells it doesn’t sound like Bear Creek, but maybe it’s just because she has a hard time describing things with so many eyes.
I did not know what I felt for the wasp girl at first. Finding yourself is difficult in this town. Some kids have to fetch their missing parts from the town librarian who stole them away, or fight the stray opossums for them. Some kids find themselves with a treasure map found half-buried in the mud of the pit where they throw the mannequins. Our teachers say it's very important to find ourselves, on account that the missing things litter the town and it’s very un-ecological of us to leave waste behind, even if organic. I found myself by looking deep into the fractal eyes of a girl filled with wasps and feeling her heart buzz.
I do not know where the wasp girl came from. Some nights, she takes me by the hand and flies me to the rooftop. We sit there, counting the stars and the UFOs masquerading as them, watching the nocturnal sinkholes open their mouths, listening to the sounds of night. Last night, I kissed her, and the wasps buzzed with glee.
Yesterday, I asked the wasp girl what she plans to do in the future, and she tilted her head in confusion. I do not think wasps have a sense of future. I wonder what they do have. Last night, when I closed my eyes I felt them crawling inside of me, fully fledged.
I can’t sleep anymore. There are more wasps today. The wasp girl lives in my bedroom now. The people who left her sugar water and sandwiches moved away. Sometimes I don’t notice she’s there. Her wasps sound exactly like mine.
Today my parents left a bowl of sugar water and a baloney sandwich outside my door. I’ve never liked baloney. I tried to give it to the girl, but couldn’t find her between all the wasps.
There is a girl living in the house across the street. I think she saw me. She waved hello, and I waved back.