I’ve killed hundreds
Every square inch of my parents ceiling was covered with an even grid of pantry moths. They are the color of soot and when I kill them, they leave a smear that looks like a shadow.
Grandma had started to act strangely and spent all her time standing on the counter top. There is a hole in the wall above of the cabinets where the infestation had started. She would perch her face up against the opening and stare into the darkness. She was wearing khaki pants, an oversized cranberry colored wool cardigan and a pair of latex gloves.
After days of this behavior, suddenly, grandma fell off the counter top. When I reached her side, her body was replaced with a single latex glove. The fingers had been cut from the palm and were laid out in order from index finger to thumb.
I looked down and I was wearing the jewel toned cardigan. It was thick and completely covered by tiny brown bugs. The sweater is so infested that the insects have fused to the cotton. I could hear their exoskeletons clashing and mandibles nibbling my flesh. I ripped off the sweater and had a powder blue T-shirt underneath. A few bugs clung to the cotton and I desperately tried to brush them off.

