Story: The Secret Mozzie Healer – 02/09/19

“She slurped blood here, she sourced blood from there, she took advantage of healing their injuries with great concern and care.”

McBuzzy McBuzz’s role in life was as a brave fighter pilot, she would attack the enemy with rapidity and due diligence. When she was not reigning bullets and bombs down upon the deserving rouge nations, she was honoured to transport her fellow servicemen and women. However, she was addicted to the metallic taste of blood, the iron platelets slipping down her throat, it made her want to gleefully rub her stomach, and find others to drain from. When she was in mid-air, she’d often place the jet on autopilot, so she could visit and speak with the injured soldiers, to see if she could benefit. Some would be asleep, some would be moaning with great pain, their injuries were healing, not quickly enough though, they needed more love and attention. McBuzzy McBuzz was able to feel their pain, empathise with them, and understand what they wanted and in return what she could gain, and in a transfer so very easy, she sucked the pain dry from their blood, a secret tactic that she had learned when she was just a little wee insect bub.

When she performed this action, often the soldiers’ eyes would widen, upright, stiffen, they would sit, their wings now glimmering and golden. “By goodness, what have you done?” they would asked, astounded, looking around with great numbness. “I feel perfectly fine now, and you only drained me of blood as I know it!” McBuzzy felt utterly pleased, a smile coming to her face, a crafty expression that, if it were to be witnessed, would not have gone to waste, because her actions allowed her to gain and the others to lose, and wasn’t this a perfect thing for them to experience and for others to view? It just so happened that McBuzzy would then return to the cockpit, to guide the jet down towards the runway, to deliver the cured servicemen to be used again in the trenches and pits.

Because this was the real reason why she had been raised to have this talent, her wartime family knew that it would come in handy, to have her cure men and women who might otherwise be of no further use to the military, during dangerous world events. If one could make right the injuries sustained, over and over, why, it was as though these soldiers and their skills were being healed again to be used in the battlefield seemingly forever. Then the country would never run out of its manpower, for there would always be McBuzzy the fighter pilot and secret healer to make certain that their soldiers were in tip top shape to continue fighting for the country’s rights, but what would happen if McBuzzy was in trouble, who would heal or save her?

There was no use in accommodating or entertaining such a thought, because this mozzie was able to look after herself. She could remove blood from any being, and never receive a negative transmission or a disease, not a thing. She also had the skill of purifying all received blood, it was like if one were given a murky solution, and they could separate the water from the mud. McBuzzy was such a top secret government individual that she needed to be on the lookout often, to protect herself the most, because she knew that due to her skill set, if others found out they might make use of her, take her away, suddenly kidnap: and put her to ill use.

However, aside from the government officials and herself, no one knew of her skill at all, let alone little, let alone the most. Even the soldiers who she cured couldn’t remember the procedure, for as soon as she left the interior of the jet, she emitted a natural gas that wiped the memories from their minds, no longer would they be saved. But there were beginning to be whispers, rumblings, of a certain talented mosquito, who resided in the war-torn countries as a pilot, and soon the bounty hunters were beginning their tracking, their know-hows.

The soldiers in the plane today didn’t look like the usual characters. Some had keen looks in their eyes, some were nervously darting around, some highly fidgeting. They didn’t have the war-torn expressions paining in their eyeballs, the way that the other, front line soldiers did, this group of soldiers seemed odd, as though they hadn’t experienced any negative war activity. They simply appeared either eager or nervous, for someone, or something. McBuzzy couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she knew something was amiss.

She approached the most nervous looking soldier and asked if he wanted to feel calm.

“Yes… y…yes, of course,” he stammered, barely able to look her in her eyes,  let alone being comfortable with her touching his shaking arm.

“Allow me to rid yourself of your illness, of it I will suck you dry,” she whispered, and she plunged her feeder into his jugular vein, where there would be the most blood flow. He suddenly snapped to, he felt overwhelmingly awake, so refreshed he was amazed! Her talent, her skill, were something certainly to be captured and saved.

“How, what, why?” he asked, needing to understand what had just occurred.

“Never you mind,” she said with a smile, and moved onto the other male mosquitoes in the herd. She cured all five members, they were dutifully pleased, at how clever she was with blood-letting, and her ability to allow them to be free, of the minutia, of the delicateness of illnesses that they didn’t even believe they’d had, and now that they had received her treatment, they didn’t feel like taking her away for their rogue nations, to be analysed, stripped of her talent, and cast away without a care. Besides, she presently emitted her signature gassy scent, and there went their memories of the moments, that was that.

The plane full of bounty hunters presently forgot all about their mission.

McBuzzy slowly gained a huge following, online and in real life, because gradually, slowly but surely, she had allowed the healed others to continue on without having their memories wiped. She felt it was somehow important that they knew that she would be taking credit for the procedures she had performed and how she’d made their lives better as they would soon understand and know it. Because if she healed everyone the world over and they didn’t know who was behind it, wasn’t that slightly pointless, too selflessly altruistic? She also wanted to share her techniques with others, so she started a healing school, where she went through the biology of what her body was capable of, what it had been taught to do. There she taught adaptable techniques of how other mosquitoes could source blood while saving ill fated members of the world, it was incredibly holistic yet medical too.

Soon, there were mosquitoes everywhere, sucking the world dry all over, yet the point of this, the wisdom of the matter, was that they were saving others, not simply satiating their thirst for blood, they worked together. And with the cure being made obvious now, there was no need for warring, for fighting, for capturing other countries for their resources or wealth, no more need to fight for world power, domination, and such, when everyone could coexist peacefully together. It was amazing how from one little mozzie that peace could begin, occur in a special manner, a wondrous style, for her as a great being, and of McBuzzy McBuzz she would be known of as the world’s greatest healer, of her name they would all righteously sing.

© 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.     


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Poem and Drawing: Jacqui’s Worldly Beauty – 27/07/19

Picturesque Jacqui striking a pose.

When Jacqui looked into the full length mirror that day,

What did she see that led her astray?

Was it the small bump on her nose?

The purpled birthmark above her left toes?

Or the misshapen right eyebrow that needed delicate plucking and multitasked managing?

Everything Jacqui could see before her, of herself,

Caused her to be displeased.

Nothing was perfect,

Nothing was right,

To her she needed a reimaging, an overhaul, a makeover,

To match her insides.

She knew that internally, she was a beautiful, loving, caring person,

This her mother would reflect each and every morning saying,

“Jacqui, keep being loving, keep being kind, everyone sees you for the beauty you have and are inside.”

Yet these words halted her,

It was as though she was visibly unworthy of her inner truths,

That her personality did not match the outer appearance,

And it was as though her mother was hinting at that too.

So when Jacqui looked in a reflective surface,

Desperate to find something visible to adore,

She could only find faults, problems, wrong, wrong, wrongs,

Nothing that could be appreciated and admirably looked upon and mentally stored.

But Jacqui was lovely!

Jacqui was fantastic!

She wore her head bald and proud,

A statement to the world,

That she was different from the crowd.

She knew how to pose for photos,

In a most inventive, imaginative, photogenic manner,

And with false bravado,

She could even break into runway modelesque behaviour.

It did not matter what flaws she believed she had,

For these were so minute they were small, of such paling insignificance,

That I could squash them with my forefinger and thumb into disappearance.

For the truth of the matter is Jacqui was a wondrous being, inside and out,

And she simply needed some convincing,

Some cajoling,

To know that she was wonderful, and the world was better with her,

Not without.

 And one fine day, at the park she happened upon a lost dog,

 “Are you lost, dear honey?” she asked, bent at the knees and gently patting his scruffy fur.

“RUFF!” the dog ruffed, and led her to her future love, a great star.

With wonder, Jacqui approached his presumable owner,

And reflected in his big brown eyes,

She saw herself, awe and star struck,

Trembling quietly inside.

Was this her love, her future man, was this who she was meant to be with for life’s tumultuous ride?

Struck with a similar feeling, the man smiled at her knowingly,

“Jacqui? I’ve heard of you, beautiful, intelligent, kind and lovely You,” and with a wild anticipation, she pictured herself with him forever: him, her, and Ruff the dog, living at the house across the street, number twenty two.  

I shan’t suggest any further,

Whether Jacqui had met the man who would help her understand,

With his reassuring,

That she was perfect,

Internally and externally.

But if you have a certain hunch,

That this man at least asked her out to lunch,

You’d probably be right,

And the answer would be some positively worded muttering or uttering of such and such.

The rest was for Fate to decide.

© 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock, also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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