Calamity Remnant

Give the moons honey and the stars song. You swallow the tasteless dust and flap your wings, moving forward in weak gravity. Wailing offspring are suspended in their vesicles, huddling together with their claws hooked into your belly, instinctively urging you to secrete sustenance through pain. You churn the cold, hard inorganic matter into debris, your digestive tract squeezing out the last remnants of life within your body. Nutrients flow out of your body and turn into the molasses that nourishes your species.

But the offspring are growing so rapidly that you can no longer meet their enormous nutritional demands. Even walking with vesicles begins to feel like a struggle. As an arthropod, you realize you have reached the end of your mission. You collapse to the ground, tearing open your shell, your eyes reflecting the scene of your body being gnawed.