Literature in Serialization

Hello, Hello Hungry Creator supports.

First I would like to take the time to express all the Hungry creators disappointment over the cancellation of Las Vegas Supercon. Every member of the team was eagerly looking forward to the unveiling of the new product lines we have been working over the past few months. However, for all of you supporters planning on joining us at the con; you will just have to wait two more weeks to join us at the Vegas Valley Comic festival. The festival is scheduled Saturday November 5th from 10am-4pm. Future posts will provide detailed information on Hungry Creator activities planned for the event, but for now without further delay welcome to the first posting of literature in serialization, creative works of fiction released piece by piece. For more information email

For now Hungry Creators is happy to bring you A Life of Leisure part one. Enjoy!

A Life of Leisure (part 1)

Fire burned across the sky raising thick clouds of bellowing darkness. It churned the horizon like a black waterfall. The bleakness mixed with the midday skyline breeding a force of night dark enough to drink out the sun and cast shadows of perpetual darkness on the city below. One by one, Jackson counted the empty homes, thousands after thousands; bleakly giving into the flames before crashing to the ground alone.

Only two months ago I left Las Vegas and its two million people with only four things to carry on my back. One, as much of my clothing as I could manage into my single canvas laundry bag. Two, a six inch hunting knife, and hatchet left to me long ago by a father I lost hope of ever seeing again and finally, a brown leather journal that I now use to write and record these words. Although I write with no hope for myself. I can only pray that perhaps, hopefully, someday that this book and these words find their way to my loving Maria. Though I have resigned myself to my fate, the thought of one last kiss, or touch of her hair gives me strength to toil another day; draw on by the foolish hope we will be together again.

Exhausted, I’ve made camp for the night; finally sparing a few moments to begin my record of life since forced from my love’s arms. My fire gently burns with a soft flame that reminds me of her smile and the warmth I left in my heart enchanted by her eyes. Maria if by chance you ever do read this, please know that all my last thoughts were of you. The endless days walking beneath this hot sun, I lost count how many times I saw your face fading beneath every rock and into every shadow. Walking in this desert I face a precarious balance of sanity surrounded by madness. Step by step I move toward a horror I do not know but can only imagine; still I know it’s there.  In my delusion and heat induced craze, you were my sun shining down on me to prevent my subtle descent into madness. I miss you so much. I’m sorry, but please know it was always my intention to meet back up with you until the roads closed early. In a scramble my only option, the only way to survive was to head south away from the city, and wait. A wait that nearly killed me. From there every breath I took strained in effort to make it back to your loving arms, unfortunately necessity dictated my detour despite my desire and efforts to be with you again. Now I walk alone across this great desert praying each night that I will see you again, even if God only allows for just one more moment or glimpse of your face. For the thought of parting one more time with you fills me with a torment I cannot bear. I would trade eternity for one last embrace, one last touch of your lips; and call myself the victor knowing that one moment of joy to be more than a lifetime devoid of you. Maria, I love you so much, and here with as much weight as my words on paper can endure, I vow to make it back to you or die trying.

I can hear the coyotes’ howls on the wind probably not more than a few yards away, but the fire keeps them way at least for now. Still, I should only risk a few hours of sleep tonight. Everything acts so unnatural now. Birds devouring corpses. I’ve seen the animals attack each other like starved lions, and much more horrors I cannot bring my pen to write tonight. Like nothing I ever expected alone in the wild. But my fire wanes in the night air, and for now I dare not venture out to find more wood. So for the moment, Marie as always my thoughts are with you. I hope you found peace escaping this madness that has ensnared me. For tonight be well and be at peace. My love and prays like always are with you.

Forever with love

Your Jackson


Above a small outcropping of rock across a ridge Jackson stared off northward at the blazing ruins of buildings and skyscrapers that had once been the desert oasis, Las Vegas Nevada. The great stratosphere tower now jutted up half the height of its former glory while the upper half moon portion laid crashed and destroyed in a pile of rocks and stones. Still miles away from the city limits, Jackson could see thin vents of black smoke rising into the air on currents of decay and suffering. The small fires dotted the corpse of the city gasping for one last breath glazed over by the heat of the sun.

Jackson turned from the smoking ruin jumping down from the outcropping of rock to rush the distance between the mountain foothills and the great expanse of asphalt and concrete forming the I-15 freeway. An arrow in the desert, the roadway swept across the terrain like a grand gray carpet welcoming him into the desolation of the once great city’s remains. No cars passed by on the highway, no trucks, motorcycles, or engine of any kind. In fact, nothing moved down the freeway except the dust carried on the hot desert wind. Devoid of life and movement, Jackson covered the final few feet climbing up on the concrete sheet alone amongst a sea of stillness. With only the wind as a traveling companion Jackson picked up his green canvas bag containing the rest of his clothing and a few meager supplies he managed to scavenge out of the desert. Military issued, Jackson bought the former military laundry bag at an army surplus store years ago. Years before when life still felt normal filled with the usually sounds of life and activity instead of the eerie quiet now felt all around.

The flames of the city continued to lap at the darkness swirling above the city alight with a silent carnage. An after image of life, Jackson pulled the canvas bag over his shoulder as he put step in front of step moving closer into the city that he fled not more than four months ago. In the distance arose a thunderous crash as another building succumbed to the heat and flames crashing into the lifeless streets below. Despite the great expanse of highway and easy travel compared to the rocks and hills Jackson had climbed out of the desert, the final miles leading into Las Vegas felt even harder when faced with the newly formed monument of death. Jackson felt like a lone stranger stepping into a strange grave as he made his way down I-15 under the heat, smoke, and vultures circling the foul air.

After a few hours he passed into the city proper looking out into the broken fingers of buildings reaching out in terror. Broken glass and concrete littered the ground cracking beneath his step. Carrying the bag over his shoulder he shuttered with a sudden jolt ripping down his spine. Directly in front of him stood the famous Welcome to Las Vegas sign completely intact and undamaged despite the ruins just beyond. With a sickening gasp, Jackson pushed passed the reminder of what once was and moved into the stillness of the current moment and time. The great city of life, love, and leisure now bereft  grew around him slowly step by step. Jackson passed the perfect sign. While welcomed into the smoking ruin he once called home, he looked up at the broken buildings beyond. Gasping with a final spark of life the city exhaled and welcomed Jackson back.

“Welcome Jackson, welcome back to your home.”

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About Hungry Creators

Hungry Creators was manifested out of a need for friendship first before business. This group is where our ideas come to life to be shared with the world. At the end of the day, our greatest profit is not the money we serve to gain but the emotions we evoke by a new piece of art. We are not afraid of reinvention because we welcome all the possibilities art has to offer. In today’s world we believe art is so much more than a leisurely activity, or success stems from more forms than a business or technical degree. Hungry Creators challenges the norm tempering the talents we foster within ourselves to excel. We stand in solidarity with the time and efforts all artists and handmade craft designers do in order for art to stay authentic and alive. Today many forget the process of the things that sit on shelves in stores. We are about creating unique items in a world where most things are mass produced. Hungry Creators scratches the surface of a whole hardworking and dedicated community. We recognize the desire for art and hope that through meeting us, you get real hungry for it too.

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