Monday, February 13, 2017

100 Words a Day 1025

The monstrous machine-thing surged against the chains that bound it to the ground, releasing a roar of frustration when it again failed to escape. The men in the camp gave the thing a wide berth, though each was a scourge in their own right. It continued to scream until it collapsed with fatigue, infernal engine pumping black smoke through its exhaust pipes like a black pair of lungs.

“I hate having that thing in camp.”

“Yeah. If it ever gets free, it will be problem.”

“Scared of it are you?”

They  turned, the speaker, who walked towards them, was unknown.

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