Flash Fiction: Graffiti

Every morning, Lucy passed the mural on her way to work. Every morning, it changed…just a little.

“Did you see?” she would ask, excited. “Today they added more flowers. At least, I think they were flowers. I’ve never seen so many colors.” And then her coworkers would smile and nod and go about their business.

Days passed. The mural spread. Painted flora that Lucy couldn’t identify spilled onto the sidewalk, the curb, the street, and no one but her seemed to notice.

Then came the figures, shadowy beings within the foliage. They meant something; she was sure. So one night, she crouched behind a bush, waiting to catch the artist in the act.

No artist came.

Instead, the mural came to life, the figures moving within this strange version of nature. Their slim, gray forms stepped into the light.

She recognized what they were. The invasion hadn’t begun as she’d imagined it might.

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