Today’s Scribillare entry is something extra special : a snippet from an ongoing novel from one of our favorite submitting authors. In the spirit of supporting all types of writing we encourage you to submit your own pieces to be featured here on the page. You can find the appropriate email in our About section. And now, without more ado, step into Tales From The Wasteland:
The engine roared as Frek shifted gears, sending the mechanical shriek into new decibel destruction, barely blocking out the vicious drumbeats erupting from cracked and dusty speakers. If one could fly as high as the deep desert buzzards above Frek and his screaming combustion creation as it trundled confidently over the dunes, he and the machinery he rode would be but the tiniest speck amidst a white blur wasteland with no sign of life or movement. The picture could be described as “lonely” by some standards : luckily for Frek, he and his blood brother Dust Dogs did not understand such emotional concepts and thereby did not feel their barbs.