I’m pushed for time presently – editing – but I still wanted to contribute to D Wallace Peach’s wonderful March Speculative Fiction Prompt.
The eclipse hadn’t been predicted.
When the moon slid through the summer sky and blighted the winking sun, humankind had gazed up in wonder and awe. Wonder quickly shifted to concern, and awe turned to fear as the moon languished in front of the sun. Mutters and grumbles gave way to full-throated screams of panic as the sky stayed dark… for an hour. A day. A week.
As the preternatural darkness lingered, looting broke out in the streets and the best of mankind succumbed to terror. Calls for calm fell on deaf ears as the Governments of the world tried – and failed – to restore order.
Blind panic and the loose semblance of order were totally obliterated when the first Little One arrived. The being scuttled down Broadway, cobalt-blue eyes darting left and right, as rioters smashed buildings and fought one another for food, for dominance, for survival. A man holding a placard, decreeing the end is nigh, spotted the Little One first. He screamed that Satan’s minions were among them. The Little One stared as the man was beaten to death for his shoes.
More Little Ones were sighted. Milan. London. Sydney. Namibia. The last broadcasts before the system went down were of haggard-faced reporters screaming into cameras they’re here!
And still, the eclipse blotted the sky. And still the Little Ones watched and waited. And still, mankind turned in on itself and imploded under the abnormal phenomena. Perpetual night an excuse for perpetual chaos.
The Little Ones watched it all with their unblinking eyes and bird-like twitters, saying and doing nothing in return. They didn’t need to lift a finger to eradicate the human condition… darkness and terror was all it took to unravel ourselves.