They had found a house to spend the night. The men boarded up the doors and decided who would keep watch, their voices mingling in the foyer. It was down to just a few of them now, and they were exhausted. They only had a little food left, but Carol gathers what she can and puts it out for everyone. They eat in silence. There wasn’t much to say. Survival is all they think about now – how to keep moving, constantly watching for the dangers that come from all sides. There is no safe place anymore.
She watches Daryl as they make their preparations for sleep, and she can feel the tether that binds the two of them together, stretching out like a long rope between them. He moves, and she wants to move with him. It helps just to watch him. Carol often catches him watching her the same way. It helps them get through the long days.
The house is big. The family must’ve had a lot of children, because the bedrooms are loaded up with cute bunk beds in primary colors. She and Daryl giggle a little as she clumsily navigates a ladder and climbs up into one of the top bunk. She stretches out in the sheets and runs her hand over the pillowcase under her cheek. She misses soft things. Soft clothes, fine linens, fluffy towels. Life has a lot of hard edges now.
Daryl climbs into the lower bunk beneath her, lies back, and sighs. Carol has noticed he stays vigilant and watchful right up until the second sleep takes him. Even when he’s asleep, his fingers still twitch for arrows.
Carol flips over and dangles one hand over the side of the bunk. She doesn’t do it to invite him. It felt like something she would have done as a kid, when she didn’t worry all the time. When she didn’t feel sick to her stomach every time the people she loved stepped out the ...
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... lands on the hardwood floor.
His mouth on her hand has made her whole body feel taut, like a violin string. She takes a tentative step toward him. He leans back on the bunk, propped up on his elbows, the smallest smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He knows. He always knows.
He grabs her, wordlessly, and pulls her down on top of him. Then he kisses her, hard. His hands press against her lower back, pulling her hips against his.
They start to move in their familiar ways, and she begins to feel the worry slip away at the edges. As they move together, she forgets the walkers, the bleak days, and the endless, frightening nights.
She can feel his fingers on her skin and his lips on her neck, and they move more urgently now, needing each other. And as she lets herself fall into his strength and softness, she feels secure again. There is a safe place, after all.
I’d never been in a house like this. It had rooms off of rooms, and in each of them were deep sofas and chairs, woven carpet over polished hard-wood floors, tasteful paintings on the walls. She asked if I was hungry, and she opened the fridge and it was stuffed with food-cold cuts and cheeses, fresh
My mind started to wonder though each room of the house, the kitchen where mom used to spend every waking hour in. The music room where dad maintained the instrument so carefully like one day people would come and play them, but that day never came, the house was always painfully empty. The house never quite lived to be the house my parents wanted, dust bunnies always danced across the floor, shelves were always slightly crooked even when you fixed them. My parents were from high class families that always had some party to host. Their children were disappointments, for we
returns to her bed and caresses her) Let me be taken, let me be put to
“What are you doing over here?” Daniel finally speaks, turning around to face her and shutting his sketchbook behind him. Daniel wasn't rangy with her, he had no reason to be. Instead, Daniel looked almost lifeless, so emotionally drained. Which he was, or at least it was how Daniel felt. It always seemed at night when it all hit Daniel – Maybe it was because it was an ending to another day.
The room is silent, lit by a single flickering candle, and the shine of a full moon through the window. Candy and George are sitting in the bunkhouse seemingly lost in their own thoughts. It’s been 24 hours since Lennie and Curley's wife have passed, but the tension is still heavy in the air for many folks. Georges eyes drooped low, slightly watered at the rims. Curley, sitting on the other side of the room, stared blankly at the candle with an expressionless face. George jerked quickly towards Candy.
After everything that happened today from schoolwork to chores, Belle was exhausted, and just as she was about to fall into a deep sleep, she hears a whisper in her ears. Startled, she turns around and sees Agenor standing at her bed, with a twinkle in his eye. Smiling, he said “I think tonight’s the night, Belle! I have a plan, and it ought to work!”. Belle’s face lights up as she jumps out her uncomfy bed and puts on her brown leather dress shoes. Belle and Agenor slowly sneak down stairs making sure not to make even the slightest sound. They exit through the back door, where there weren’t any alarms. There was a large metal fence connected by wires that served to prevent the orphans from sneaking out. Agenor and Belle climb up the fence, and just as they were about to jump off of it, Ms. Sophie, the head of the orphanage, comes running out of the building with a black leather belt in her hands, ready to whip the kids, but before she could climb up the fence, Belle and Agenor jumped off the fence. A feeling of accomplishment hits Belle, she looks at Agenor, and they give each other a smirk. They run off to a train station not too far from where they
The narrator then describes what it is life for men when the village is under attack. The men face a very different experience during the attacks than the women. Since they are outside working they usually get pulled aside by the military and face horrible treatment. They get chained up and risked being killed if they resisted. They are forced to stay like this until the attack is over so some men die of exhaustion from being in the sun for so long. However, when it is all over, the men are freed and allowed to come back to th...
As the holiday seasons roll in, she feels anxiety dwelling in her bones. She cries. Then, she sits
He was everything she desired, and more. It felt like she’d finally found someone to satisfy her needs, and that was saying something. “Then you will have to take care of me,” Her voice was tender, almost a soft, playful way of defying his words. As much as she enjoyed his control, she would need to get used to being able to completely accept it. After all, something like that needs more trust. A soft, cry of pleasure ebbed from within her as she felt the warmth of his finger slide into her. Almost immediately, her hips began to rise up toward him, her body clearly approving of his actions. The feeling of his fingers against her back put the woman at ease, enjoying every moment of his
were ivory now felt soft to his touch and when he softly pressed her neck the veins throbbed with life.
I wearily drag myself away from the silken violet comforter and slump out into the living room. The green and red print of our family’s southwestern style couch streaks boldly against the deep blues of the opposing sitting chairs, calling me to it. Of course I oblige the billowy haven, roughly plopping down and curling into the cushions, ignoring the faint smell of smoke that clings to the fabric. My focus fades in and out for a while, allowing my mind to relax and unwind from any treacherous dreams of the pervious night, until I hear the telltale creak of door hinges. My eyes flutter lightly open to see my Father dressed in smart brown slacks and a deep earthy t-shirt, his graying hair and beard neatly comber into order. He places his appointment book and hair products in a bag near the door signaling the rapid approaching time of departure. Soon he is parading out the door with ever-fading whispers of ‘I love you kid,’ and ‘be good.’
The butterflies(yes, I still get butterflies) in my stomach erupt at the sigh of her magnificent features. Her smokey eye shadow. The cat tails that her eyeliner created. My insides and cheeks warm as our eyes meet; brown to green. Her oversized Christmas sweater hangs loosely on her shoulders, by passing the palms of her hands and almost touching her navy fingertips; and, for some reason, I find myself reaching for her infinitely smaller hands.
... stumble down the dirty streets the large brown factories. I help Lily wash her hair and tie back her golden curls with her green ribbon as she puts on her favourite white summer dress. I grab her jacket as we reach the bottom of the stairs, fastening it around her body as she slips her shoes on.