It’s not unusual to encounter moths at almost any time of year. As long as it’s night time and a light is shining, one is sure to see them excitedly fly towards it. Occasionally, if one is lucky, an exotic moth might be seen dancing in the night. For an insect enthusiast, it’s a sight to behold. I, myself, am not such a person, but I do adore moths in my own way. Unfortunately, since I’ve been living in this uncivilized, inconvenient, rude little suburban town, I haven’t seen a single one. It’s disheartening and really makes me miss my real home more than I already do.
I say that, and then, as if on cue, moths begin trickling in. It was a few at first; just the run of the mill common moths no one pays attention to. However, after about a week, the number of moths drastically increased. At this point, neighbors were getting annoyed and putting bug lights out on their porches. Some even went so far as to call exterminators. The following week, more species of moths joined the horde of native moths dancing in the night around town. My roommates were annoyed with me because I would free any that accidentally made it into the house. Moths never harmed me, so I won’t harm them. Besides, moths are harmless to humans, so what’s the point in killing them?
*
For about a month, hordes of various moth species multiplied to such an extent that even I was starting to get annoyed. This was not normal. I mean, most of the species that even came here to begin with weren’t normal, but this was just a whole new level of creepy. How can this uncivilized, inconvenient, rude little suburban town go from never having seen a moth to being plagued by them within a month?
As much as I adore the little creatures, I was beginning to wish that they would die or disappear. I literally couldn’t walk a single step in the yard without a swarm of moths angrily flying up from the grass. The native moths dispersed as I carefully walked across the lawn, but the invaders flew around me in a vicious frenzy, dive-bombing my head with malicious intent. These occurrences weren’t just limited to the point where God divided light from darkness and called the latter “night” either.
Soon enough, almost every home was infested with thousands of moths at every stage of their life cycles. People who could afford it abandoned their homes, while others went insane and had to be institutionalized. However, the majority of us had no choice but to stay and endure the pestilence of moths taking over this rude, inconvenient little suburban town.
My roommates complained about the constant influx of moths, but none of them wanted to pony up the cash to pay for an exterminator, and I was against the idea altogether. It didn’t even matter because the moth population was so out of control that exterminators not only refused services; they outright couldn’t do anything about it anyway. There was even talk around town that some frustrated homeowners became desperate enough to put their own children up for collateral in addition to paying ten times the cost of a service call in order to just have an exterminator give them the time of day. Most of them adamantly refused, but the more unethical of the bug busters eagerly accepted payment and did little else. However, none of the sordid rumors could be substantiated.
*
While the entire town was quickly falling prey to the pestilence of night butterflies, businesses suffered, restaurants closed down, and churches overflowed with frightened parishioners convinced that the world was ending. To make matters worse, flurries of moths weaving through traffic blinded motorists, which led to frequent car accidents. By the time emergency responders arrived, many of the people involved were nothing more than chunks of unrecognizable flesh smeared all over the road. What was abnormal about this was that these accidents were not always fatal, but the way in which fatal accidents occurred should not have left the bodies in such horrific conditions.
I realized exactly why the corpses looked like they just went through a lathe when I overheard paramedics complaining about shooing away strange looking moths when they responded to emergencies. That’s when it occurred to me that the insects were feasting on the dead and dying. Insects known to be harmless to humans are actively harming humans. No, that’s not right; they’re killing humans. How can this be? I couldn’t wrap my head around the moths’ defiance of Nature. Perhaps, it was best not to think about it, buy my groceries like a good bipedal animal before drawing attention to myself, and forget about the accidents altogether.
As I exited the grocery store, the distinct sound of several cars crashing into each other immediately drew wandering giant peacock moths to the scene. Suddenly, an undulating shadow temporarily blocked out the sun, and when I looked up to ascertain why, I beheld a horde of death’s head hawk moths almost large enough to rival that of locusts.
I shouldn’t have done it, but my curious human nature led me to a multi car pile up with no end in sight. (Luckily, someone had already called 911 before I arrived.) It was pure carnage. Moths of all species were descending on trapped motorists, taking advantage of their vulnerability. I clamped my hand over my mouth, stifling my own horrified scream when I came upon a swarm of Luna moths suffocating an immobilized elderly man. He desperately tried to cough up the thousands of eggs the dying Luna moths laid in his throat to no avail, but he sadly succumbed to his doom, buried in the carcasses of evolution’s avant garde moth.
Emergency responders were fast approaching, yet the cars still kept piling up. As I was wondering if this pestilence had any effect on air travel, I heard the wailing of a semiconscious young woman turn into shrieks of tormented fear. Moths perfectly blended into the bark of nearby trees had swooped in on the mangled woman struggling to escape the crushed wreckage of her Lexus crossover. She screamed unintelligible words that I eventually made out: “Someone, help my daughter.”
The woman made a weak attempt at thrashing around, frantically trying to ward off an onslaught of atlas moths that joined the gory fray; the futility of it draining her remaining strength until she passed out. More of the vicious creatures swooped in after sensing another imminent death and began to make a meal out of the woman’s body. While she was being eaten alive, a swarm of vampire moths flooded the interior of the mangled metal that was once a luxury crossover, remaining inside for what seemed like an eternity.
Meanwhile, the unconscious mother awakened to a hefty number of moths consuming her as they simultaneously dragged her further away from her totaled Lexus. She screamed and cried as she prayed to a god that didn’t care or a goddess that gave her the silent treatment once the disturbing realization that she was going to die hit home. When she opened her eyes in order to look back, hoping that her daughter may have escaped, the ghastly sight of her arms stripped of their flesh met her eyes. She reflexively turned away, but what she saw behind her was thousands of times worse: her young daughter’s head rolling out of the crushed crossover onto a red carpet of motherly viscera. At that point, the poor young mother gave up and met her maker.
I quietly slipped away before I could be detected and safely made it back to my legal residence. I concluded that all or an overwhelming majority of the moths must be at the expanding pile up on the parkway. I immediately told my roommates everything and asked them what we should do considering our living circumstances. After some deliberation, we came to the consensus that everyone should fend for themselves, but if they want to lend a hand to another roommate, that’s fine too.
Everyone fled the house within half an hour of packing. They only took the absolute barest of necessities with them. They had other places they could stay or could afford temporary lodging at a cheap motel, but as for me, I had no alternatives. No one offered to help me out, which is fine with me. We did agree on splitting up.
Despite my growing fear of the night butterflies, I remained optimistic. I’ve never killed a moth, so they shouldn’t harm me. It’s only logical since they appear to have gained sentience and mildly complex reasoning skills. A pit of dread opened in my gut when I remembered how annoyed I was with the overpopulation of moths; so much so, that I considered-key word, considered-wishing them ill will. Even if the thought only crossed my mind, would it matter to a moth whose reasoning skills are on par with a seven year old’s? To them, consideration is the same thing as action. I slumped against the wall with the horrifying realization that the moths would be returning at any time, and I was trapped along with many others in this God forsaken town. I only hoped that my neighbors would be smart enough to turn their lights off too.
*
I stayed hidden in the shadows listening to the fluttering wings blend in with the sounds of human dismemberment the moths made during the night. I put my headphones on, and even though the volume was turned all the way up, I could still hear the screams of terror and the dying wails of my neighbors as they, their children, and even their innocent pets were devoured alive by night butterflies. Every. Single. One. I eventually fell asleep, too tired from the day’s horror show to bother staying awake and on guard.
I woke up to a bright, dead calm morning. The hustle and bustle of people was replaced with the soft fluttering of wings. I either bravely or stupidly looked out the window and beheld an empire of living creatures. Houses, roads, cars, street lights, and landscaping were all built of every species of moth known and unknown to man. I dared myself to walk outside to get a better look, and as expected, some of the moths dispersed, exposing human skeletons picked clean, right down to the bone. Among the dead, new life of the flying, night dwelling kind was beginning to emerge at an accelerated rate. Watching larvae hatch from freshly laid eggs and crawl into a skull in search of food was surreal. Everything was surreal.
I stood frozen to the spot while a few silk moths lazily circled my head like a sinister halo before fluttering away. A shiver of fear licked my spine as more curious moths circled me and flew off. I’m not sure if they decided that I wasn’t worth their time or if they had a leader to report to. The latter thought terrified me more than anything because it made the most sense under the current circumstances. If that is, indeed, the case, it makes me wonder if I’m next on their menu.