Formicidae's Log

Entry Twenty Four;

To my beloved Queen,

It has been nine whole years (one day in humans time) since I have seen your face and even still I remember every millimetre of your smile. The workers and I have been marching nonstop in search of the completed works of the sample that Tatuidris delivered to you twelve months ago. Though we have sent back many workers with samples near in shape and colour to the original, your drones have reported that no samples thus far have had the same irresistible flavour nor the same brown that melts in the heat and gets all over our mandibles. To be completely candid with you, my Queen, I sometimes fear that we may never find any more than the Crumb we have received. I do fear we squandered its rarity. I lay awake at night, wondering if I am marching your loyal workers one-by-one to their doom. Hurrah, Hurrah. Nevertheless, we search tirelessly for the treasure you have claimed from the humans. Even if it takes the next three years of my life, we will die in service of the Crown, in search of The Crumb.

Your humble servant,

Formicidae.

Entry Twenty Seven;

To my beloved Queen,

It has been a hard few weeks on the trail, but today we finally found a ray of light through the thick green grass over our heads. While it did burn some of us to death, their bodies provided us the opportunity to get a glimpse above the grass and I am happy to report that our destination is in sight. However, there is a danger; between your workers and your treasure lies a winged beasts feeding ground. A large, hot, black surface the humans use to transport their metal monstrosities also happens to be an absolute blood bath for us. Birds watch the road and in the short time we have been camped at the edge of the grass, we have witnessed them swoop in and slaughter families! Even if we pass the humans road and the flying devils that guard it, there is a large river of flowing water leading down to a wide, square hole that goes to parts unknown (though many of the Workers have suspected it leads to a version of hell where one is surrounded by the sweet, gooey, browned crumb but lacks the mandibles to eat.) Forgive me and eat my head, my Queen, if I am complaining too much, I simply wish to relay to you the dangers of this quest if we manage to make it to our destination let alone make it back.

Should this be my last entry, know that every last one of your Workers died praising their Queen and charging toward your prize.

Hurrah Hurrah,

Your Humble Servant,

Formicidae.

Entry Twenty Eight;

My Queen, I write this entry with a heavy hand and four shaking legs. As we suspected, it was indeed a blood bath. The first wave was swept up in the razor-sharp beaks of the birds. Though I do not speak bird, they seemed sure that an all-you-can-eat buffet had been announced at the road this morning. Workers were being scooped up, five or six hardworking men and women at a time. None could be saved, in fact most were dead before they even left the road. We lost twenty percent of our platoon. The birds flew away and we assumed we had caught a break, that perhaps the birds had filled up on our comrades, that the rest of us were safe.

We were wrong.

As the birds flew away, one of the humans giant metal monstrosities barrelled toward us and their large cylinder legs rolled over half of the remaining Workers. This was before the thorax of the metal monster rolled past us and blasted out air hot enough to melt us if we were closer, but it did not stop the beast from blowing away another thirty of your loyal Workers. Then, by the great Crumb, there was the river. Some of the remaining Workers joined with each other and made a bridge for the rest of us to climb faster into the safety of the grass. The birds returned and took a few of the bridge Workers... The bridge crumbled into the river and the rest of the workers were lost to the void at the end of the river.

Now there is only me, your most loyal of servants.

I wish only that I could have sampled a piece of the Crumb that was brought to you so many days ago. I wish only to have had a taste of the prize that you have sent us after. But the prize is so close, and it is so much larger than a mere crumb, even from this distance it is many crumbs fused together to make an enormous circle topped with the sweetest-smelling mud. I have heard many of the smaller humans chanting in rhythm while lighting effigies atop your prize. Their prayer ended with a “Hip Hip Hooray” reminiscent of our marching songs.

Make no mistake, my Queen it is no more worthy of worship than you are yet I also understand why these small humans appear to worship it.

As I write this, I formulate a plan to carry these crumbs back to you and prove my worth to one day own a crumb of my own. I must brave the humans, should I wait too long there will be no crumbs for your or for the Hill.

Hurrah, Hurrah.

Wish me luck,

Formicidae.

*

Jeremy had been waiting for the final “Hip Hip” for what felt like an eternity. He had been holding his breath to near-exhaustion all the way through the “Hooray”. He even stifled the overwhelming urge to lean over and blow out the candles before the birthday boy, Brayden, could combine his birthday special of an exhale and a spit into his own candles, the table, the forks, the plates, and the food. He waited, he held his breath, he kept his prankster urges at bay all for a shot at the true prize of suffering through Brayden’s video game themed birthday party at the park; the cake. Chocolate from top-to-toe, he heard Brayden’s mother speaking to his on the car ride over that it was three separate layers of chocolate cake, chocolate cream, chocolate cake again, something called chocolate ganache, a third layer of chocolate cake and then chocolate icing. He had a small taste the night before when Brayden’s mother, Aunt Cathy, baked the cake in his mother’s kitchen. Jeremy got to lick the batter while Brayden was too busy talking about his high scores to even notice there was a cake baking.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, something on the table moved. It was no bigger than a crumb from the sweet, sweet chocolate cake in front of him and if it had not moved, he would have assumed it was a piece for the tasting. But this was moving, it was moving very fast, erratically too, almost skittish like it knew it was in danger. Or perhaps it was excited by the smell of four different kinds of chocolate, either way this thing was running its six little legs as fast as it could heading straight for the cake.

It was an ant, and Jeremy knew that if his mother saw the ant on the cake then nobody would get any cake and they would all have to start playing with Brayden again. Jeremy lifted his elbow from the table, laid his palm out flat and slapped it down as fast as he could. But he was too slow, his eyes reacted before his body could stop itself. The cake had already been cut and was being passed around, Aunt Cathy was placing Jeremy’s slice in front of him, on top of the ant... under his hand.

Jeremy closed his eyes, averting his gaze from the shame of what he could not stop as his palm slapped down into the chocolate cake, the chocolate cream, the chocolate cake again, something called ganache – which was evidently quite squishy – a third layer of chocolate cake and the chocolate icing. It splattered all over the birthday guests and worst of all, Brayden the birthday boy, who began crying after a short, shocked silence.

As Aunt Cathy ran frantically around the picnic table in search of paper towels, Jeremy raised his hand off of his plate to see a massacre of layers and a scattering of crumbs. One crumb in particular moved its six little legs inward as it curled up into itself, it twitched a few times, and then stopped moving.