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Prompt: Honey
There was a time long, long, long ago, before people lived in cities or towns when humans and human-like creatures lived in caves, in lean-tos and other temporary shelters. When one their number wandered away from the fire light, out and returned they’d check the eyes making sure they hadn’t gone pale and odd. Or they would threaten any wander with odd eyes. The small band of people would attempt to flee, if confirmed, sometimes a few would even succeed. Running off into that night telling tales to the next small band of creatures that walked in the skins of humans but were many tendril’d monsters who would murder and consume all in their wake, not even leaving bones or ghosts.
This was before the Hamsa saw these bi-pedal, big headed, apes as anything other than food. The Hamsa that would be called Vau had seen them that way for a time. Then Vau watched as they learned; they tamed beasts, discovered how to farm, built houses, discovered writing.They still ate them, body and soul but far fewer, and he found no joy in it, only a nagging whittling guilt.
They didn’t hide the body of his victims anymore to stalk, hunt and take more humans. They would squat dark and threatening by the river bank, hiding in the reeds. But humans were so fine, so beautiful and intelligent. Vau told themselves they’d eat the bad ones, the killers and ravagers, only the wicked. But would the wicked come down to the river bank? It was hard to find the truly wicked, so they told themselves they’d eat those that lagged behind or appeared to be sick or in great pain. That they wouldn’t eat the young or those that sang to themselves or humans who didn’t react like he was a monster if they saw him. But Vau met Azem and fell in love, and now they couldn’t see them as food. The animus of beasts and bodies only provided limited succor though… they grew weak just taking them. It was horrifying to know that in order to survive they had to… kill humans, eat them body and soul.
But there was something else, another substance.
A sweet syrup that energized and revitalized them, the honey of phantoma bee. The bee who stole bits of the animus of dying humans and animals and transformed and distilled it into a rich nourishing honey.
It could be drunk discreetly in a cup of hot tea.
Amazing!
Revolutionary!
And they could dismiss the faint lingering spasms of guilt by protecting the world and humanity… from other things that lurked in the night, outside the firelight beyond the walls of the cities. The other unreformed monsters.