hello, i'm bee factory!
i live in new jersey and write things to pay the bills.
i like to do silly little art projects, which i sometimes post here, sometimes nah.
i mostly just use this account to check out what my friends are making!
dream eaterKit keeps her nightmares in a jar on the floor next to her bed. The jar used to have peanut butter in it—SKIPPY® Reduced Fat Super Chunk!—but she washed it out and took off the label and wrote her name on its rust-colored top and now, there they are. They aren’t too happy about it, all squeezed together in that little plastic cylinder, but Kit is pretty sure nightmares don’t have any civil rights or anything so whatever.dream eater by BEE-FACTORY
For a while she tried a dream catcher to give them some sass instead, one her sister Jenny got her at a thrift store for fifty cents, but it turned out to be kind of a crock. Kit hung it over her bed and it let its ruffled, dirty feathers dangle right over her face, like the dreams of an indigenous people trampled into the dirt, but if anything it just attracted more nightmares. She imagined them at their nightmare meetings laughing, Hey, would you get a load of this chump? Actually thinks those things work! and then swooping d
decayNaomi dances on her way home from school. She’s not bad. Her rain boots scrape the sidewalk as she taps out her own, strange hybrid of a quickstep mambo. Puddles get kicked up in her wake, a mixture of dead, soggy worms and decaying leaves sent flying. She twirls her umbrella like a yellow baton, throwing it up in the air and catching it after a spirited spin or two. Sometimes music accompanies her steps—“One and a two! Ratatat-tat!”—sometimes not. Her voice is tiny but excitable, like a child let loose into a room lined with bubble wrap.decay by BEE-FACTORY
It isn’t always dancing. Sometimes she rehearses little plays, dramatic retellings of how a short, curly black hair was found in someone’s mashed potatoes that day, or maybe on the discovery that one of the rats dissected in class was pregnant. Sometimes she thinks up quick jokes, or acrobatic stunts, or new ways to contort her face so that it looks both hilarious and uncomfortable at the same time. Whatever i
you dream of birdsPart Oneyou dream of birds by BEE-FACTORY
In Which You Dream of Birds
Four nights before your birthday, you dream of birds. There are a thousand of them perched in a great tree, their white wings drooped elegantly down their sides and their feathers trailing behind them like wedding veils. They sing a thousand beautiful songs each night, and you know this because they are singing them to you now. But one of them has no beak, and you know that if you catch it, it will grant you a wish.
When you wake up the sky is like frosted pearls, and you know that you must have a bird.
In Which There Are Ants in the Walls
You have no idea why you didn’t think of purchasing a bird before. It is easily the best idea you have ever had. You can hang out with the bird on your shoulder and feed it crackers and teach it foul language and you simply must have a bird.
But there is one small hurdle to leap before you can get one, and that hurdle is your roommate.
Your roommate’s name is Narandal and she is from Mongolia.