A. T. Rainier

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Jacob stared at the tiny tree in the lightbulb. He marveled at how such a thing could exist, even though he just created it. Jacob lit a cigarette and took a long drag. He relished every moment of the forbidden fruit. He felt ecstasy in the act of teenage rebellion. That was until his phone rung. “Dinner is almost ready, sweetie.” “I’m busy.” “I’m okay if you’re getting food with your friends, but if not you have to come home.” “I have no friends, Mom.” “Don’t give me that again, of course you do. Mark? Sydney?” “Traitors. Asshats.” “Jacob!” “That’s what they are.” “Just because they’re dating it does not mean they’re not your friends. Neither does it mean you can use that language.” “They obviously don’t want me around.” “Jacob, they–just–just come home. We’ll talk about this after dinner.” “I’m not–“ She hung up. “Hungry.” Jacob took a deep breath and tossed his phone aside before taking another drag. “What does she know?” Jacob said, “She doesn’t have to deal with this. All her friends are married.” Jacob finished and flicked the cigarette butt away without even extinguishing it. The lightbulb lit up when the cigarette remains bounced off of it. Jacob didn’t react until he was about to light a second; he jumped back, standing up immediately and letting the cigarette drop from his lips. “What the…?” Jacob began to inspect the anomaly but the lightbulb flickered out. “Wait, wait, no. Come back. Light up again.” Tapping and flicking resulted in nothing. Neither did his insistent commands work. He them switched to his pack of cigarettes. “They’re not laced, Jacob. You just bought the pack.” Jacob spun around to see a kid about his age behind him. “Who are you?” “Call me whatever you want: conscience, guardian angel, inner voice, that gut feeling.” Jacob gave a dumb, confused look and the boy chuckled. He strolled over to the lightbulb and gave it a tap with his foot. It lit up. Jacob’s face contorted even more and the boy laughed again. “Come with me. Let me help you” . . . #picturestory #flashfiction #writersofinstagram #aspiringauthor #creativewriting #creativity #writing #writer #angst #conscience #lightbulb #cigarette #rebellion ##tree #tinytree https://www.instagram.com/p/BvCDgnjHqzG/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1d3mblp7hxus7

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A soft rumble echoed across the land. Dust and small pebbles let loose their already feeble grasp of their towering homes. No sound besides the rumble was heard for the dust and pebbles never hit the ground. Instead, they hovered just above, suspended like smoke over water. Anyone who happened to pass by would have thought it a beautiful and eloquent sight, yet not a soul has set foot on such soil in millennium. The rumbling ended and there sat a moment of brief peace. The dust and pebbles conjoined and moved to connect the earthen pillars with a long, broken line of stones. Silence fell over the land once again. The tips of the monoliths lit up with white light as archaic symbols formed from thin air. Oberon smiled as he watched the scene unfold, hovering in the middle of the ring. The stars spoke true for the ritual was to begin. Opening his ancient time and letting it float before him, Oberon recited the words and performed the motions to bring back the primordial stone giant, Khugak. #picturestory #flashfiction #writersofinstagram #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #golem #ritual #stars #resurect #forgottenland #earthmagic #magic #flight #archaicsymbols #archane https://www.instagram.com/p/Bl_RpMYFT_v/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1v85gfx0ajv66

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Live Artists is a program created to support artists and raise money for art programs. It’s a genius idea and i have been lucky enough to have my work posted on both their instagram @liveartistsofficial and their Wattpad www.wattpad.com/user/liveartistsofficial. If you want to be featured, either it be your writing, art, dancing, singing, instrument playing or any other type of art you do, don’t be afraid to email or text it to them. It’s a wonderful cause and something i am more than willing to support!!!

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“I don’t like this,” Lisa said. “It’s fine,” Jack replied as he began to wade through the water. Reluctant, yet still curious, Lisa followed. The water was freezing and Lisa wouldn’t have even considered following if the strange image wasn’t so close to shore. After a moment Jack reached the image and, for some reason Lisa will never find out, stuck his hand into it. It still remained visible and Jack turned, mouth agape. He stepped into the image, much to Lisa’s utter amazement. Lisa stepped in a few seconds after to an entirely new world. Perfectly clear (and much warmer) water, golden yellow grass and leaves, and a grey, cloudless sky. “What is this?” Jack asked. “The hell if I know.” We waded are way to the new shore, the water rolling off of our clothes, leaving the two dry and perplexed. Jack started to walk off but Lisa grabbed his shoulder. “Where are you going?” “We’re here. We might as well look and see what there is.” Jack continued to walk off, Lisa’s hand slipping off his shoulder and down to her thigh. “Damnit.” Lisa followed after him, both not wanting him to be alone, and not wanting to be alone herself. She was growing mad at Jack and his stupidity, the audacity he had to just wander off like that without consorting her. She caught up after a moment to see they were, in fact, on the top of a sort of mountain looking over clouds and a stunning sight. “Oh my God,” Lisa said, covering her mouth. “It’s beautiful.” The two admired the scene for a bit, Lisa finally able to tear her eyes off of the scene to look back at the lake. Where the portal sat was now nothing. The portal as gone. Lisa bolted for the lake, Jack following behind when he saw what she was panicking over. “No no no!” Lisa explained as she dove into the water, slashing around as if the portal somehow sunk beneath the surface. “Lisa, give up,” Jack said after some time of searching, trying to calm the frantic girl, “The portal’s gone. We’re not gonna find it.” #picturestory #flashfiction #writersofinstagram #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #alternateuniverse #multiverse #portal #dimension #goldengrass #gold #grey #greysky #newworld #trapped #stuck

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Day 58: Provisions are low. I have enough food to as me maybe another week, but after that I have nothing. Maybe I can ration my food, but that’ll only extend my supplies for two weeks. The fish are scarce in this area, so fishing will not wield much. My water supplies, however may not last that long. I've run low in both matches and wood, only allowing a few more fires if i'm lucky. I regret my decision in returning to the sea. I should have remained in the island where there was food and wood for fire. It was a stupid idea leaving. How am I suppose to find land on this pathetic excuse for a boat? There is no use turning back now. I have lost my compass after a relatively violent wave that struck me. By this point I am roaming aimlessly in a vast land of blue, merciless water. I feel so alone. I feel so helpless. I don’t know if I should drown myself, end my misery. Leave this journal as a last testament of my suffering, either it ends in the hands of another or at the sea floor. I simply wish– Bellow me is… I don’t know. To me it looks to be the bones of a dragon, but that cannot be true. Dragons are fiction, creatures made up to explain what science and religion could not so many centuries ago. Maybe it– I just witnessed a creature within the depths with the same structure as the bones, yet this with flesh and blood and scales. I don’t know what I am seeing, but I am scared beyond my wildest nightmares. I do not know what is to happen to me, but– They are real. #picturestory #flashfiction #writersofinstagram #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #dragon #sea #ocean #ration #lostatsea #deaddragon #bones #fishing #journalentry #hopeless #lost #boat

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As she made her transfer, the ink in her bottle began to leak out, turning into fluorescent blue fish that swam and swirled around her. No one else could see these fish, and after enough time they wouldn't see her either. Sarah liked that. It felt like these little fish that swam around her were her own little secret, something no one else knew of or could experience. These fish were all hers. The sky darkened to a deep indigo, meaning the transition was complete. Sarah had entered the Spirit World. She stood, lifting the pen, paper, and ink that still held its original contents. Beyond the stone circle she stood on was the remains of a long abandoned town, surrounded by an endless expanse of grey grass and bone trees. The Plains of Limbo, they called the land. “Shoot.” She had gone to the wrong place. It was no big problem, however, Sarah hoped to have more time to eat and enjoy the town she was suppose to be in before her interview. Without waisting a moment, Sarah began to traverse the Plains if Limbo. The houses she left behind her, like so many people before her and like so many people will after her, were dilapidated shells of what they once were. She refrained from calling it a ghost town because, to her, not even ghosts would live in it. By the time she reached the right town the first moon had risen, this one the larger and more luminous of the two. This was her first time in the town so she asked directions from a tall, cloaked figure with a long white mask and a younger man. The figure signed and cocked his head to the left. “He means yo that way and two the left,” the younger man translated. Sarah thanked the odd couple and headed off to a coffee shop where Lucifer in all his angelic glory sat. “Evening, Sir. I am Sarah and I will be the one interviewing you today. #picturestory #flashfiction #writersofinstagram #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #lucifer #spirit #raven #spiritworld #interview #interviewer #limbo #forgottenplaces #forgottenhouse

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A rustle of leaves. The pattering of feet on stones. A malevolent giggle from an unseen enemy. I brandished my saif while Borus bore his teeth, a growl emanating from deep within him. The giggle returned, this time with friends. I spun around, ready for something to jump out at me. “Get ready,” I told Borus. A little woodland creature stepped out from behind a tree. I pointed my spear in its direction and remained, unwavering, as it approached. “Come with me,” it said in the forrest’s native tongue. “Where are you take us?” Boris said, his bulbous bear body lumbering closer to the creature. The creature only giggled and walked off, expecting us, I presume, to follow it. Borus and I exchanged looks of uncertainty before Borus followed the woodland figure. I gritted my teeth and continued behind, saif ready. The creature didn't look back but continued to scuttle as if forgetting we were behind. “I don't like this.” “Of course you don't, Hakim.” “Why did you follow it?” “You prefer to be lead somewhere else or be stuck with a dozen of those things around you, if not more?” “I don't want to be here anyways.” The moisture was horrendous. I was use to the dry desert heat, not this moist warmth. I could tell Borus wasn't enjoying it either. We passed by a stone head where the creature finally checked to see if we were there, only to continue on as if nothing was there. The stone head shocked me, its features all too familiar once studied. It was the face of General Lyatak. At my instance of full recognition did I catch Borus’s attention. “We’re here.” “The forgotten city?” “That stone head we passed by was that of General Lyatak.” “We didn't pass by a stone head, that was just a boulder.” “No, trust me. It was–” Vines wrapped around both Borus and I, living is up with tremendous strength. From behind a tree stepped a woodland creature like the one before yet much taller. “Abd al Hakim. Borus Thornborne. We've been waiting for you.” #picturestory #flashfiction #writersofinstagram #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #forgottencity #saif #bear #forest #quest #desert #woodlandcreature #ruble #stonestatue

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The painting was only half done, but Tazi needed a break. The nerves she was getting from the anticipation was getting to her head. The warnings, the advice, the training, it was all so much. Tazi felt as is a snake was coiling around her, scales sliding against her skin as I wrapped itself around her neck, arms, torso, legs, squeezing until Tazi couldn’t breath, couldn’t move. Tazi excused the Silent Sisters, who bowed and exited the tent. She took a deep breath, the hot air from the fire before her almost choking her. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want to do this. Her training wasn’t even complete and they throw her into the middle of the fire, expecting her to know what to do. They only grazed over the ritual dances, and Tazi was only folded what to say once. Tazi wanted to cry, to run away from this problem that overwhelmed her life, her being. But she couldn’t. The shame it would bring her and her parents. The problems it will bring her tribe if she was not the one to do this. This was meant to be. If the gods didn’t want Tazi to do this, she would have known, the Hight Priestess would have known years ago. She took another breath. She wasn’t going to run. She wasn’t going to mess this up. She was chosen by the gods to save her tribe. She is to be the one that will subdue the monster, save the land, protect her people. The Silent Sisters came back in and Tazi nodded. She was ready to have her paint finished. Tazi breathed slow and deep as the brush made long, deliberate strokes with the cold paint. After some time the Sisters were finished right before Tazi was to start the ritual. Donning her vestments of gold and silver, a headdress of clay, fruits, and other plants. She was ready. Although calmer, she was still afraid. That was good, for if she was not afraid, then her actions were those of a fools, and Tazi was no fool. #picturestory #flashfiction #writersofinstagram #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #ritual #chosenone #facepaint #savior #monster #heroine #nerves #fear #overcomingfear #bravery #silentsisters #sisters #femalewarrior

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Fish-man. Sea monster. Mer-freak. He’s heard them all and more. And he’s had enough. The names. The faces. The email. The laughing. The mocking. He was done. Caliban flamed his computer shut and threw it across the room, the divorce slamming against the wall and punching a hole in it. “Damnit!” he screamed before stopping himself from causing any more damage. Caliban took deep breaths. He had taken classes on this. He knew how to control his anger. He was fine now, Caliban was fine. Yet still did that anger boil inside of him. He gritted his pointed teeth. They will pay for their mockery, their names, their emails. They will pay for what they have done to Caliban, that was certain. Grabbing his hoodie, Caliban threw the hood over his head and stormed out of the house. He grabbed his bike and peddled off. He peddled until he reached the Starbucks they tended to lounge at, and sure enough they were there. They saw him, he knew they say him, but they avoided looking at him. They were not the only ones to do that. Caliban stormed up to then, grabbing the closest by the trot and lifting him up above Caliban’s head. In the boy’s eyes was fear beyond that anyone could ever imagine. That was exactly what Caliban wanted. Now to give them what they wanted. “You want a monster?” Caliban growled, “By God I will give you a damn monster.” Caliban slammed the boy unto the table, demolishing it and instantly ending the boy’s life. The other two screamed and ran away. He didn’t chase them, oh no. They wanted a monster, so he’s letting them have one while still alive. Sirens were heard in the distance. Taking off his hoodie, shirt and shoes, Caliban ran and dove head first into the river adjacent to the Starbucks, a perfect escape for a sea monster. Now to wait. #picturestory #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #inspiration #imagination #caliban #seamonster #revenge #kill #murder #hate #anger #laptop #selfcontrol #death #fear

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In the desert was she not alone. She did not dance by herself. She was never alone, for she had her love with her. She danced with the Messenger of the Light, the Sun that bathed her in his love all day. She danced with Malakbel, her Light and her love. In the desert did the two spin and dance, the each only away of the other. The danced as if it were the last time the two would see each other, which was truth to one, yet only a nightmare to the other. For Malakbel knew more than his live did and did not want to burden her with it. So when she grew tired and desired to sit, the Messenger of the Light picked her back up and continued the dance. He did not want to leave her, but the time until his departure grew shorter with every passing minute. Soon was he to diapers from the sky for it was no longer his time to rule the sun. Soon must he sleep while the Egyptians has their thousand years. He could not taker her with him for she would not survive he long sleep. She, in fact, was mortal. Malakbel then took his love into his arms and held her tight. His final hour was drawing to a close. He told her he must leave, that his Lord had plans for him. He may not come back for many years, so that he should forget he ever existed. She refused and promised to always remember. This brought tears to the Messenger’s eyes, the first tears Malakbel had wept in millennium. He collected the tears and handed the vial to her. She was to keep them, and if ever her grief became too strong, she was to take a drop and place it upon her tongue. A final kiss and the Messenger of the Light was gone, no longe the King of the Sun. There did she weep, again in her home, again by herself, bathed in the Light of another. #picturestory #author #creativity #creativewriting #writing #inspiration #imagination #malakbel #egypt #desert #love #lost #sungod #egyptiangods (at Western Sahara)

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Ava had grown so bored. There was nothing to do anymore. She had read all the books on her shelf, played each board game at least a hundred times, and seen each rerun of the good shows maybe three or four time by now. She was so bored. Leaning back, suspended in mid air, she looked out of the room to the open sky she longed for. She has wanted to see the outside longer than she could remember. But the Scientists didn’t let her out. They were afraid that if they did she would fly away. Not like they couldn’t stop her, they have the equipment to stop her. Maybe if they let her out now she would try, but that would only prove their point. A groan left her lips as she rolled over, resting her head on her hands and closing her eyes. She could imagine the outside: large open sky, rolling green hills beneath her as she soared. Running her hand through the water of lakes, or knocking the snow off the tops of mountains. She smiled at the thoughts of her freedom. She had been thinking more and more about it lately. She knew if she asked the Scientists if she could be free they would laugh at her. They have never been that nice to her. They only saw her as an experiment: expendable and temporary. Once they had used her up they would move to the next subject, just like they’ve been doing. Still Ava gazed out the window to the open sky, dreaming and hoping. #picturestory #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #inspiration #imagination #dream #fly #flying #scientists #scientist #bored #subject #testsubject #laboratory #supernatural #sky #lake #mountain #snow #soaring

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The maid finished her makeup for Taurus’s celebration. Thanking her, Taurus commanded the maid to leave. Alone, she gazed at her makeup. It was time. Today she will be true, be pure. She started to feel weak. Aries bragged about how he survived the fire burning the marks into his skin. What if something similar happened to Taurus? What if marks were burned into her too? She had always disliked fire. Nothing good seems to come from it. Taurus shook her head. She was being ridiculous. She was Taurus the Bull. She was tough, strong, stubborn. She could handle a little fire. Slowly getting ready, she put in her nose ring and buckled her necklace. Taurus then touched her horns gently. Golden horns, extraordinary since she was not of age yet. Aries’s horns were not gold until the ritual was complete, and even then they were decorated gold. These were natural. What if the ritual doesn't work because if that? What if she cannot become pure and true because her horns are different. Again she shook her head. Again was she being ridiculous. Something had gotten into her. Too much caffeine? To much sugar? Who knows. No matter what, Taurus needed to relax. This was a simple celebration of her coming of age; nothing more, nothing less. A knock was heard on the door. Calling for the person to come in, Taurus was informed that the ritual was to start soon, and that her presence was needed. Reluctantly, Taurus followed down the long hallways until she reached Ophiuchus and the other Zodiacs. “It is time, Taurus the Bull.” #picturestory #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #inspiration #imagination #zodiac #taurus #aries #ophiuchus #2ndzodiac #bull #thebull #taurusthebull #ritual #comingofage #celebration #fire #burning #marks #13thzodiac

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He was tired, so tired. For so long had he been the Emperor of Ice and Snow, so long had he ruled over the cold. Yet, soon, was his reign to end. He would not have minded his reign’s end if his heir was right for the throne. With each day’s passing, the Emperor grew more and more worried about what was to come of the world of Ice and Snow when his heir was to take the throne, for the boy was dangerous. His heart cold and his head hot, he was not fit to rule. His heir’s reign would tear down the kingdom he had worked to long to build. But he was so tired. So long had he ruled, it was time for his reign to end. It was time for the Emperor to rest. The Emperor watched over his courtyard as he pondered on his troubles. The icicles hanging from the stones glistened in the sunlight like little stars on Earth. It had taken years to construct this palace, and he oversaw every step of it. He had even helped in the construction of some parts, although was not too much help. He was an emperor after all, not a builder. He chucked to himself as he remembered the astound faces of his subjects as they watched their emperor try and fail to build up the walls. The Emperor grew weary, as he was accustomed too around midday. It was time for some rest. Giving one last worried glacé to his courtyard, the Emperor shuffled to his royal bed and rested his weary head on the embellished and quite comfortable pillows. That night was his dreams plagued with nightmares of the years to come under his heir’s reign. That night did the Emperor of Ice and Snow finally rest once and for all. #picturestory #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #inspiration #imagination #ice #snow #iceandsnow #cold #icicles #emperor #reign #palace #old #tired #heir #unfitheir (at The land of ice and snow)

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Run. Run! RUN! He ran through the forest at top speed, trying to escape, trying to live. He couldn't let that thing catch him and kill him. He had heard stories from his friends on how they would catch you and kill you like animals, how they suck the blood and rip into the your flesh. Every thought made his weaker and weaker from fear, but he continued to run, he had too. He didn't want to die. He had a wife and kids to get home too. He had a life, a family that could all be taken away from whatever monster was chasing him. He dared to look back to see if it was still chasing him. In the distance he saw a dim light bobbing up and down. Shit. They were still on his tail. He took a sharp left, a risky move but something he hoped would save him in the end. Leaping over log and rock, he continued to run and run. Still he heard footsteps echoing his own behind him, still he saw the light they emitted. They were closer now, but not for long. Coming up to a steep cliff, he had not hesitation before he leaped from into into the trees bellow. A sharp landing, but all worth it for his life and freedom. He looked up to see the lights there for a moment and then gone. He was free. Leaning back, he took a deep sigh of relief. Remembering he didn't have food for tonight, however, he quickly started to look for some, finding success easily. A quick slash and the deer was dead. He was made for this, he knew what he was doing. A bright light. A sick laugh. He looked to see the monsters that followed him. “Think we didn’ think ya do somthin’ like this? He hun’ed your type before, we know what you do. Why you think we done split up like he did.” He reached out his hand, a plea for mercy. “Aight boys. Bagim.” A rustle of fallen leaves. A cock of the gun. A boom, and then darkness. #picturestory #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #inspiration #imagination #monster #hunting #forest #run #lights #fear #escape #monsterhunting #monsterhunt #cliff #dear

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“You're being ridiculous. This isn't gonna work. Psychics are nothing but fakes.” “Come on, Sierra, just do it. It'll be fun.” I rolled my eyes but eventually gave a reluctant ‘Fine.’ This was stupid. There is no way some old crone with some cards and a glass ball is going to predict my future. But Rick wanted to go to a psychic, and here one was. It was out summer vacation before we leave for college and I never see Rick again. So, for the sake of memories and friendship, i trudged begins him. The door was unlocked and the room was small. In the middle sat a round table ornamented with a large cloth that depicted odd symbols and constellations. On top sat a crystal ball that flowed and shifted its colors. Looking around the rest of the room was decorated in tapestries and drained pictures of something pertaining to her “practice.” On the right was bass a gift shop of sorts of little antiques and knick-knacks meant to have the customers money wasted. An older woman dressed in loose, colorful clothes walked in. She gave us a warm smile and a pleasant greeting before we started the session. “What do you two wish to know?” After a moment of silence, Rick spoke up. “What will happen to us,” he asked, gesturing to me, “When we split for college? Will we loose contact or what?” “You two have this special connection, I can tell already. One not easy to break. From just that I can say you two will be together until the end, but let's see what the cards say.” She excused herself and moment and returned with a deck. She shuffled the deck seven times, eyes closed, chanting something neither Rick nor I could understand. The Psychic set down a more cards, explaining that her suspicion was correct. After a few more tricks we left, thanking and paying her. “So?” Rick asked me. For the third time I rolled my eyes, but this the with a smile. “I already knew what she said. You’re stuck with me the rest of your life.” #picturestory #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #inspiration #imagination #tarot #psychic #tapestry #crystalball #constellations #friendship #thelovers #tarotreading #fake #real #friends

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There and then gone. A flash of light, a puff of smoke, and nothing. This is how the Phantom Photographer worked. A mysterious being, no one knew if it was human or not. If not, then no one knew what it could be. Alien? Fourth Dimensional being? Magician? No one knew, but it’s pictures were always beautiful. Perfect resolution, excellent poses by the unsuspecting models, exquisite scenes. At least, that is what the people saw, the photos appearing from unknown sources. I, on the other hand, see it differently. I was born with a keen eye for photography. When I was five I was able to take pictures almost worthy of National Geographic. Almost. If I had actual wilderness and not my backyard then my work would have been all over those magazines. As for the smoke and mystery, that was self taught. A little pizzazz to spark up a little talk. I did need to get my reputation out there somehow. Yet, you may notice I speak in the past, as if all this were no longer true, no longer present. I’m sure you’ve figured out by now this is my autobiography in which you are holding in your hands, yet not one of words. I never worked in words. Here the mystery is solved, here the smoke had dissipated so that you can see me, see the Phantom that haunted the worlds for so long. You may even learn a thing or two about your own world and how I was gone so quickly. #picturestory #writersofinstagram #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #inspiration #imagination #photography #phantom #smoke #pictures #natgeo #nationalgeographic #photo #mystery

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She melded into her shadow form, leaving behind an illusion of her shoes to fool her pursuers. “Good luck,” Lucas wished Katie, “I’ll meet you ate the rendezvous.” Lucas bolted off, leaving Katie alone. She too, however, slipped away before the pursuers arrived. She watched as they picked up her shoes and looked around bewildered. She snapped her fingers, the sound unheard since shadows do not generate waves, and the shoes vanished, bewildering the agents. “She has grown too good at this,” one stated, “I think that mean we need to bring in the heavy artillery.” “That’ll do nothing but slow us down, and those two are quick.” “But I would prefer to meet them prepared to catch them than to have them slip through my finger again.” “Look let’s talk about this later. Focus on the task at hand.” “Right, right. Uh,... I think they went... this way.” The two agents ran off, Katie only reemerging when she was sure they were long gone. Time to head for the rendezvous. Running in her shadow from, she managed to reach it before Lucas. Katie returned to her corporeal form, waiting. Eventually he arrived, carrying the sack of food rations we needed. “Got everything?” Lucas nodded and Katie smiled. Finally they could feed he rest. At the sight of the bag Katie's stomach growled a little bit herself. “Perfect! Let's go—” A plush from the small puddles around them. A firm grip wrapping around them and the sting of something like a shot. Katie felt weak powerless. Slowly her consciousness faded, but before she was under she saw one of the two agents tying up Lucas. “You can't escape us,” the second whispered into Katie's ear, the last think she heard before the blackness overtook her. #picturestory #author #creativewriting #creativity #writing #inspiration #imagination #shadow #shadowform #superpower #agents #rations #hunger #rendezvous #chasing #chase #mission #missionfailure