The fan gently hummed. The clock tower five feet from the headboard of my bed chimed the hour of four. I was tucked into crisp white sheets under a fluffy white duvet. I was about to slip back into slumber when I heard it.
Buzzzzz.
Too loud for a fly or a mosquito. This was a healthy, robust buzz. Powered by what I didn’t know, and wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.
I turned on the light. Hovering four feet above me was a massive winged creature. Like a yellow jacket that sampled the “Alice in Wonderland” cake. I squelched a squeal. (It wouldn’t do to yell; it is a very small village, and a noise like that surely would have awakened my coworker next door, or the students in the apartments across the narrow street.)
I grabbed a sweater and whipped the sleeve at it, Indiana Jones style.
The beast dropped out of the air. And disappeared. Completely. Like Michael Myers after Dr. Loomis shoots him over the railing.
There was no way I could go back to bed without knowing where it was, dead or alive.
I got a book and waited.
After about 10 minutes, I heard the tell-tale buzz (Poe had nothing on this). The winged devil rose from the floor on my left, a foot from my head. I sprang to my sweater. It flew out of the bedroom into the living room.
For about 10 more minutes, the beast and I created a spectacle straight out of a Looney Tunes cartoon. I finally trapped him in the folds of the sweater and flung him outside. He clung tenaciously to the fibers and demanded to come back in. I cursed (quietly) and shook harder. His creepy little legs at last released my cardigan.
Before I could close the window, he flew back inside.
At this point, I was really thankful no one could see in my windows. With renewed vigor (and while choking back a panicked gurgle), I sweater-snapped him again.
He stopped, dropped and rolled.
I pounced again with the sweater, gathered him up, tossed him out the window again, and shut it quickly.
I have no idea if he lived, but I know I didn’t go back to sleep.
Addendum:
After posting this account, I did some research (prompted by a comment on the post). I think I tangled with a European hornet, or Vespa crabro.
And perhaps I need to change the pronoun in the story to “she.”