at work Manuscript © 07-10-08 all rights are reserved to the author.
OF AUTHORS AND DEVICES
An Introduction by the Author
It's easy can't you see as easy as one, two, three. To sit down and write a tale of hero's plights and Villainous fights. It is quite simple to be the bard singing of great adventures and grand flights. To take up this pen and write for you this tale of derelict dust blown towns and decrepit fallen cities and tell you of this group of friends that where feared and loved by many. Its funny know as I look back at the first time this tale crossed my mind, how the many people in it seemed a few steps into the wrong time. Some belonged to the seas of old, as pirates or privateers, while others belonged in cities of the fifties in a Mafioso atmosphere. A few belonged in the technology and jetsetter life that is still offered by California and Tokyo. And still yet a few, maybe one or two, belonged in the golden days of Pax Romana where they would make fine generals under Alexander the Great himself. But this was a tale like none I had never thought to write before. Its style is new to me still writing as if I where a character in my own book. And it was as much an adventure for me to write as I hope it will be an adventure to read. I find it hard at times to write especially on this story. Trying to decide what paths to take and where to do or even the opening words. I must admit this may sound odd, but I recently purchased Metal Gear Solid 4 the Limited Collectors Edition, and many times when I wrote on this I would picture the scenery that my characters where in and try to pick through the sound track till I found a song that would fit the scenery and then lean back shut my eyes and let the story perform its self as a movie in my mind.
But I stall here in this a forward of for words a thought from the author so to speak. And the funny thing is I see here before me the most annoying waste of space. If I where a reader I would pick this book up come to this, maybe read a paragraph and set it back on the shelf. But then again I know from questioning readers of other books, this has been one of my most powerful allies in writing this book, that a majority of people skip these written words and move right on to the book. So I pause again to allow my mind run on a tangent of its own. I wonder if I revealed some dark secret would readers actually take pause to read these six hundred or more words? I doubt it. I truly do. I could say that I am a hermaphrodite or that I believe that I am some dark abomination a scar on this world of God's, and no one would ever know. But alas I am rambling and you the reader want a story and that my dear reader is what you shall have.
But before we start I want you to shut your eyes and imagine if you will a town not much unlike your own now kill almost every one in it just make them disappear, and then age the town reduce the once fine sturdy buildings to wreckage. Now for the final addition, dump a desert on top of this your town and make it a few dozen degrees hotter. Now imagine that you are walking out of a building and into that heat and sand and lack of life. This is what my characters see and this is where my story begins and ends. In the wastes, no one cares if you die, you are burden on all who live even your own comrades, there are no friends there are only enemies, and the only ones you can trust are the ones who hate the people you hate more then they hate you. So Reader lets take a step into a new
place, a place you have only seen in your mind and into the mind of this man to see the world through his eyes. Maybe perhaps you will cry maybe perhaps you will not. But still enjoy this text as you have enjoyed many before.
Thank you,
Dustin Ware
(You're Loving Author
The wind blows, the building groans under the pressure of the sand storms force. Over the howl of the wind it sounds like a giant's sigh of defeat. The year is lost now, time means nothing, no one celebrates the holidays of old anymore, the calendars we have are all well past there prime relics of a past we will never know again. I sit here at this desk of wood in this abandoned building listening as the storm rages on. It took me a while and a lot of thought but I recognize this building now for what it was. A gas station. I haven’t seen one in this condition for many years when the last war ended many of them where burned and destroyed by people in a hurry to steal what little fuel was left and get away from this place trying to out run the fall out and the sand that seemingly came from nowhere and covered everything. I was ten years old when it happened, and now thirty years later I still thrive in this waste land that we created through greed and war. But I am old now, I have lived long in well by the standards of this waste I was lucky to see thirty and those that live to see fifty are revered as wise man and or mystics. And sadly it's true. Since the fall out came that mysterious substance, that no one can explain to this day, that many have come to call gods tears. But it changed many of us, even I didn't escape the effects, I now live in a state of limbo my sense are all awry and the world seems new. Every passing day it grows and I know now that it will eventually cost me my sanity. I have seen psychics and mystics, men who conjure flame to there skin and women who sweat venom. But on the far side of the world deep in what used to be the American south west things remain nearly the same the Tears never fell there it was the refuge of man and now you can't even set foot there if you are from the wastes unless you have business there and you are restricted to the areas of your business.
