Everyone stood frozen, not because they had to but because they were too scared to move. It was dark and unforgiving. They only ate when the little pixilated white hand appeared and dragged food from nowhere like Arceus. But sometimes favorites were picked by it and no one knew who would be its favorite next.

Wallace: how long has it been…

He whispered in starved pain.

Maxie: I can’t keep track.. far too… dehydrated.

Kukui: a few weeks by now. This grass feels so fake now.

Sycamore: let us out! Whoever controls the hand please!

Guzma: keep screaming and none of us will eat!

Kiawe: no…

Lana: I want to go home!

Mallow: my dad, he’s probably worried sick.

everyone slowly collapsed onto the almost faux grass and looked up at the sky and sun that barely produced a true shine. A familiar trill filling the air as the hand appeared above everyone.

Nanu: shit…