Flash Shot

The Swarm

When night falls, we lie still in the pitch dark of our home, barely daring to breathe.

Three days have inched by since the first swarm. Massive, fluttering wings batter the outside of our house, banging the siding and roof.

Mother and I huddle close whenever a scream cuts through the air. It has been difficult maintaining our sanity. We are psychic empaths, by our nature.

We constantly regret sentencing this world to this fate. We know it's us the swarm truly hunts.

But as people of a dying race, we're desperate to survive. We hide within our human disguises while earthlings fall prey to the swarm.

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110 words