Notes: Waspinator is performing a waggle dance in this drabble. For more information, visit wikipedia's article about waggle dances.
I didn't change much of the original 100 words of this drabble, just added a little here or there.
The trick is that the dancing and singing are unrepeatable. Once you know this, you're ready to start learning.
Blue sky.
Soft sky.
The sun sinks low over the horizon as darkness falls. Azure fades to red as the sun disappears, the sky a wash of bright, fiery colors. That first moment of sunset is almost always the most beautiful, until the rest of the sunset occurs.
And right now, it is neither night nor day, but somewhere in between.
Twilight.
Time crawls along. The sky gives way to dark; a mysterious inky color.
But still, it is not quite night, but rather a magical time, when fluttering wings catch glimmers of silver light; when a solitary bug flits through the coming dark, looping and twirling through the sky, softly humming. Seeking. Beckoning.
His buzz is like siren call; a low hum driftting through the night.
Calling.
Here in the fading light, he's graceful, ethereal.
Beautiful.
The exact opposite of himself.
A streak of red-chrome rises, spiraling after him, catching him mid-roll and pulling him in.
Inside, he smiles.
The message, it seems, was clear.