Ol’ Sebastian drove his dune buggy to the edge of the hill, staring down at the windswept magnificence below. Something peculiar was happening today, nothing earth shattering or anything…just different.
The mutated things writhing below seemed agitated, as if some natural force had awakened them. Nature wasn’t taken to kindly ’round these parts. His partner, in survival at least, Tabitha, looked at him, gauging his reaction. She was used to doing this with Sebastian. He was a brave man, but no more than any other inhabitant of the bedlands, in fact, Sebastian was older than most, and had much less to lose. In that sense, he might have a lower than average level of bravery.
“They call this place the bedlands…because…because if you fall asleep at the wrong time, this giant bed of sand will become your grave,” Sebastian said.
“I know. I’ve heard this story more times than you have grey hairs. In fact, it’s not really much of a story, there’s no proper beginning, no middle, and the ending is stupid.”
“You live, you die. That’s your plot right there.”
“I’d rather die than listen to your justification for that non-story for the thousandth time.”
“You say that, but you like it. I know you do. Familiar things are comfortable.”
There was a sound below, like thunder ripping through the ass of a dead god. This was the creatures’ way of reminding you that you had forgotten them. Sebastian and Tabitha looked at each other, not scared so much as wondering how they would get out of this brutal existence and move on with life.