A Beggars Letter
Our weapons were no match for theirs. Our bullets fell short of their target, pierced the armour playing but never scratched flesh.
Our men fell in droves. They fell on to feast on the bodies of the fallen.
Even now I can hear the flesh being torn from the dead. A blood curdling slurp as skin is picked meticulously from flesh and a chomp and grind as a nothing creature tucks into a limb. The slurps of the bone marrow, an entire human eaten within minutes and they're hungry for more.
They are known as many names. Each country took to calling them something different. We are only known as one thing to them. Dinner.
And there is nothing we can do. Get out of the cities and they will find us in the country. Go underground and they'll spoke us out like rodents. Go out to sea and they will sink our ships where they moor.
If they have a weakness, I am yet to learn it.
Each hour they take more of the world. Each day another billion are dead, eaten and the left overs are all that remains, rotting in the radiation of the burnt out atmosphere.
Since the first contact, at the start of the year, what feels like a different life, we have been powerless.
This creature that I send to you now, is the only thing we have. We need your help doctor. Otherwise, humans won't live on Earth for very much longer.
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