The dust particles drifted aimlessly, a small sliver of light snuck in through a gap in the window, illuminating the small room. The other windows had no such faults, each covered with a blanket, sheets of paper, anything that would throw up a guard against unwelcome eyes.
A small woman bent over a desk, her long blond hair covered either side of her face, creating a tunnel through which she studied the papers that were scattered infront of her. Her clothes might have been beautiful at one time, colors and patterns combined to create a reflection of the artist's nature. Now, however, they were stained and torn, an expression destroyed by life.
"Where was he?" Asheyna asked the empty room. "He should be here by now." They all should be, she thought.
Reaching in her pocket for a cell phone she cursed quietly under her breath. It was gone, just like the computers, just like everything. She'd always known it was easy to trace someone through their techology, but she'd never dreamed it would affect her. Cell phones had been the last to go, once their chain of text message stories had been discovered.
Once there had been a vibrant community. The most creative minds from all over the world had gathered together to practice and perfect their craft. Ideas and wit passed like lightening in messages that only fueled the fire of their artistic souls. They laughingly called themselves The Protagonists. The name a bittersweet reminder of the artistic mecca Nick had so painstakingly created for them.
It had happened slowly, at first it seemed only the natural progression. The fire of one mind would die, slowly or at once; their contribution disappeared forever from the community. Some were noticed, others faded to oblivion without a second thought. As the frequency increased questions were raised... this was not natural.
Asheyna jumped as the single door to the room flew open, the sunlight turning the lone figure into a sillouette.