Is it important to talk about my family? It doesn't seem like something that relates to the context of this story, but I guess I'll tell you a bit.

My kin isn't too complex. My mother served in the army about a decade after my birth, and she perished within the first week. It wasn't due to battle; she just had a horrific bout of food poisoning. Dad became subdued after the news of her passing, and depression began to rule his life. He became withdrawn from my brother and I, and when my sibling hit the delightful date of his eighteenth birthday, he escaped the clutches of familial responsibility and threw himself into the world.

I haven't seen him in close to seven years.

All of the luminaries in my life were gone, and I abandoned my father when I too began a legal adult. It was a stressful situation, especially with my father blaming me for his forlornness, but with the council of my two friends, I managed to drag myself out of the filthy tar pit that was my family.

So I moved far out to the lands of Idaho, the land of starchy potatoes and shimmering trout. The people of the little café gladly took me in as their own. We were all broken and poor, so I fit in quite nicely amongst the ranks. I still remained a hermit outside of the work floor, though. I do enjoy basking in the light of my own company, so being an obvious loner isn't too much of an issue for me. I don't want to sound like a tragedy story, but what I tell you is simply the truth.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

And going solo only becomes dreadful when a gang of losers kidnap you.

Back on the hazy road, I gently lowered myself back down behind the devastated vehicle, and the reflections of the gray clouds overhead reflected off the splintered windows. There was a small, nipping chill in the air, and I was only adorned with a simple t-shirt and frayed jeans. There was no need to go all out with a stylish outfit when you are only running to the store.

I licked my scabbed lips, trying to provide moisture to the dried flesh, but the quick swipe of my tongue only opened one of the scratches. It stung horribly, and I emitted a small gasp. The tinkling of the creature bobbing through the air altered in pitch, becoming deeper. It was like popping celestial white noise, and the rhythmic audio soothed my scrambled mind.

I pulled my constrained legs closer to my breasts as a small appendage of the unknown species wriggled sluggishly around the contorted bumper, and I pulled my face slowly away. I tilted my head upward, and the icy beast was pressed up against the side of the car as if it was attempting to veil itself from my sight. It only extended a small section of itself to me.

The long "finger" started to tap upon the zip ties wrapped around my wrists, and the sound of soft striking was eerie in the haunting silence of the wilderness. The strange glass looped underneath the tie, and the plastic strip morphed into water. The fluid splattered onto my pants, and I separated my hands, astonished.

Adrenaline was whirling through my body, but it was so much that my brain couldn't decide what to do. So I all I could was sit and watch. The Moving Sky went after the binds around my legs, and after my running limbs were freed, I immediately took off down the wet street, abandoning my hero.