Day 2,144

They flew within the toxic rain, feathers smoking from the intensely acidic fallout as their thousand eyes scanned the horizon for anything moving. We thought they were angels sent to save us from an environmental apocalypse of our own doing until they spotted us and made it their life's mission to wipe us all out.

Now we've come to know them as parasites for a much greater predator. The one that reaches into your mind and plucks at your thoughts like a harp, playing you right into the hands of the angels and while they feed on your flesh it devours your mind.

They used to leave the bones behind but since then they've taken to decorating themselves with our remnants. Our skulls are their helmets, our rib cages are their armour and our teeth are sewn into gloves, acting like rudimentary knuckle dusters.