The bees were first, they knew. Mr Freckleston said it was because they had special hairs on their knees, but the skin on his face looks like rhubarb and he talks to himself at the bus stop, so nobody really listened to him.
They started returning to the hive covered in white. Nobody had any idea where it came from or what it was. When the bees stopped producing honey people got worried, but not until then. Mr Freckleston said not to eat the honey in case the white stuff had got in it, but nobody listened because sometimes he dribbles and forgets what he’s saying.
Small animals were next, but they tried to groom the white stuff from each other and they started to die. Little rotting bodies appeared all over and sometimes bigger animals scavenged them. Mr Freckleston said he would burn any bodies he found and we should all do the same, but sometimes he cries into the night and sounds like a banshee, so we didn’t listen.
Now there are bees and there are animals and there are a few people who did burn the little bodies and there is Mr Freckleston and there is not much else. Sometimes he laughs and it is a sad sort of laugh, but there isn’t anyone left to listen.