Publishers blurb:
Whispers from the Swarm
"Urban legend has it that the Moth Man will sit above your porch and doomscreech to you, which is kinda like doomsaying, but more shrill. They say he haunts the night. They say he's pretty gay.
So it's only natural that I'd feel kinship with the dude when one day I realised I had moths inside of me.
They showed me things. I could see it, touch it, smell it...
No, believe me!
Please, don't leave. Please, don't go, don't go there. I beg you. I don't want to see it again, what happens to you...
Please..."
The Swarm Speaker
A portent of doom, they know when things end. They can feel it, smell, sometimes even see it, glimpses of a sword of Damocles that hangs and swings above the city’s head. The chittering, these whispers, they can’t ignore them, but everyone else seems to, and so this burden is theirs to bear, alone, eating away at them.
Literally.