Rhoom was a Glargh. As all male Glarghs, he roamed. He roamed the world alone, just like his father, and his father before him.
The World had been at peace for a long time now, ever since the great moon was blown up to stop the Garsan invasion. But there were change in the air. The signs were undoubtable.
Rhoom had read it in the flight of the Snagbas. He had seen the signs in the sand of the shores of the great Sindt. They were coming, and nothing could ever stop them.
His four legs carried him fast over desert and mountains, through forests and jungle. In his hands he held his long spear, although he knew it would not be enough to defend anyone. He ran to reach his loved ones. To protect them, although he knew he could not. To say goodbye, or die with them. His mother. His aunts. His sisters.
They were creeps, small as Tox. Their technology was of another world. No one really knew were they had come from. It did not seem to be any neighbouring planet. They where too different. Too advanced.
He arrived to the hills. His home. The village was destroyed. His family. All that was left was purple blood on the ground. Millions of small, disgusting monsters had ripped them into tiny pieces to feed their spawn.
Ruuuuhaaaa!!! He screamed. The sound of his voice pounded between the rock walls around the valley. If the invaders could hear him, he did not care.
Flashes of his life went through his mind. His childhood in the pack. He had been so happy. Life so different. His brothers had left like he did. His sisters were now all dead.
He thought of how all these years could have been if he had stayed. If he’d never left his beloved family. He knew it could not have been. He was a Glargh. Male Glarghs roamed.
Now he roamed in pain.
http://fantasy-faction.com/2014/five-common-mistakes-writing-fantasy-flash-fiction
https://kavarastories.wordpress.com/2017/01/09/borrowed-space/
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