We Make Zines

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He wandered thru the wastelands, a ragged form staggering along. However long he had been out here, he did not know. It seemed forever. The need to go on overwhelmed him. His mind thought of nothing else than what lay ahead unseen, his goal, his reason to keep going. He never turned to look behind him. The further he got away from where he had left, the better.
Oh, but the expanse of the land!
It went on and on in every direction he could see.
Barren, except for the occasional scrap of abandoned metal, and perhaps the scurrying lizard.
His feet moved on as if they had an agenda of their own. His body left haggard from the many many days of travel. His clothes were but rags upon his body, which hung limply upon his skinny limbs. He appeared ready to drop at any moment, but his determination carried him on with a fierceness unrivaled.
Suddenly, far up ahead, the sand dunes appeared to part, and a golden triangle arose into the sky. The light scattered a golden hue upon the haggard mans face.
"Yippee!" he yelled, and he raced ahead.

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