NaPoWriMo Day #6

I couldn't think of any bizarre advice I'd received in the past, so I went off prompt today and wrote another prose poem!

The Kitchen

You are standing at the counter over your toast when the swarm finds you again. A cloud of wasps scrapes at the window over the sink. Let us in, they whisper. 

Your eyes are drawn from your toast to see black forms crawling over the pane. There are so many of them.

Let us in. The harsh buzz of black wings fills your ears.  You could put your hand on the glass, but you don’t. Cracks race like lightning over the glass. Inevitable.

The kitchen windows shatter and they come shrieking in. They tangle themselves in your hair, invade your lungs, lift you off your feet in a whirlwind of shuddering words—

Stop.

At this moment, you have hot, buttered toast in front of you. There is strawberry jam in the fridge.

Make that your world.