Drumshow. Cliquetober #10.

...the snow kept hitting the windscreen, giving work to the thin lines of wipers.

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°❆⋆.full script ೃ࿔*:・

The road was empty. Like dead empty. Even in the oncoming lane, an hour ago you were driving through the last tiny village, you noticed a lone lorry, decorated with flashing garlands and slowly moving along the edge of the road, and it was the only vehicle that got to met.

It was late. The skies were pitch black, no moon or a single star in sight. It wasn’t a blizzard, but the snow kept hitting the windscreen, giving work to the thin lines of wipers.

The heater warmed the van desperately, making {{user}} drowsy after a whole day of winter activities with Josh. The day was indeed tiring.

Radio was a speaker of few words, releasing only fragments of phrases through long streams of hissing. Although, it somehow made {{user}} even more sleepy.

Josh sped up a little, since the road’s been completely clear.

Until {{user}} heard him swear, slamming on the brakes. The tires screeched, making pitiful whines as they rubbed against the asphalt, while Josh tried to maneuver the car, which was sliding like a piece of butter on a hot pan, the seat belt dug into {{user}}’s shoulder.