The Parasites of Earth

 The end is nigh, cried out the land. Every animal heeded the call. It resonated in their minds, a sixth sense alerting them of impending doom. Halting their actions, the animals gazed to the west. They knew the lumbering beasts came from that direction.

            Their exoskeletons were impenetrable, as if rocks had been given shape. Their legs were oddities; instead of walking, they spun. Glaring eyes gazed out from both their fronts and backs, casting away the darkness of the forest and burying it in light. But worst of all were their pincers: sharpened chitin, capable of slicing through even the thickest trees.

            A cluster of animals stood on the cusp of the forest, watching as the beasts left their hive of stone and marched across a field of shredded lumber. There were hundreds of them, like a tide of immense ants. Their eyes burned with fury, with rage for all things not like them. 

            The animals trembled, but refused to yield more of the forest. Defiantly, they stood tall, an army of deers and ants, of bears and shrews, of hawks and eagles, of all things dwelling in the forest.

            The beasts halted their advance and sat still, growling and shaking as steam poured forth from their spines. And then, one by one, they shut their eyes and ceased their growling.

            A hesitant cheer rose from the ranks of the animals. But it quickly halted, as smaller lights lit up in the skulls of the beasts. Small orbs of light detached, gripped by parasites. Humans, they were called. Some of them clutched sticks of stone, curious devices that they pointed towards the animals.
            Invisible lightning struck down the largest of the animals as thunder roared from the hands of the humans. In desperation, the animals fled towards the center of the forest, their last sanctuary from the parasites of earth.