Ficlets (The Walking Dead): x4
Title: Shelter
Author:
cookiegirl
Characters/Pairings: Daryl, Beth, pre-Daryl/Beth?
Wordcount: 387
Rating: G
Notes: For the prompt "The Walking Dead, any, looking for shelter from a thunderstorm" from
prisca at
fic_promptly
"There. Over there." Daryl nudges Beth and points north-west, into the woods.
Beth squints through the rain, the sheets of water making everything look blurry, as though seen through frosted glass.
"I can't see anything," she says, and then her teeth start to knock against each other uncontrollably. She is soaked, freezing cold, and hasn't spoken for the last mile.
"There's a hut," Daryl says, sounding sure. "A hundred yards or so through the trees."
Beth jams her hand against her chin to stop her teeth from chattering, then shakes her head. "You're not supposed to go into the woods in a thunderstorm," she says, her voice small and almost swallowed up by the rain, but she knows Daryl will hear it. He always hears her.
He turns now, drags his eyes away from the woods and focuses on her. "It's shelter," he says. "We have to." He reaches out and pushes a strand of wet hair away from her face - a rare gesture. Her face should be numb with cold but she feels it anyway.
Another crack of thunder echoes through the air, and Beth jumps a little, then starts to shiver. He's right. They can't keep walking like this much longer.
"Okay," she says, and Daryl nods, then leads the way.
----
"This is c-cosy," Beth says, her body still shaking even though she's taken off most of her wet clothes and wrapped herself in one of the blankets they found in the small hut. It is little more than a shed, and there is no food or water, but there's a roof which isn't leaking, a dry earth floor, a small bench and a couple of woollen sheets, so it feels like something akin to paradise.
"Uhuh," Daryl says distractedly, rubbing himself down with his blanket as he keeps his gaze on the small window and the rain still crashing down outside.
"Daryl?"
He pulls the now-damp blanket around his shoulders and turns to Beth. "Yeah?"
"Come sit?" Beth says, moving to the edge of the small bench so there is room for two.
Daryl hesitates for a moment, then gives a small shrug and sits down next to her. She shifts closer and he wraps his blanket around both of them, enveloping her.
"Storm'll pass soon," he says.
Beth shrugs. She doesn't mind it anymore.
Title: 24-7
Author:
cookiegirl
Characters/Pairings: Rick
Wordcount: 61
Rating: G
Notes: Written for One Sentence Fics day, for the prompt "Any, any, sunrise, sunset" by
sidonie at
fic_promptly
From the moment the sun rises, promising another day of fighting and running and starving and hurting and trying, to the moment it sets, bringing a short and restless night filled with imaginary ghosts who live in dreams and real-life monsters who walk through dark woods, Rick Grimes has only one thought: do everything he can to keep his people safe.
Title: Relief
Author:
cookiegirl
Characters/Pairings: Maggie, Glenn, Maggie/Glenn
Wordcount: 249
Rating: G
Notes: For the prompt "Any, any, a shady tree" from
badly_knitted at
fic_promptly
Maggie's skin was dripping with sweat, her hair plastered to her face. The Georgian heat was even more oppressive than usual, and she felt like she was melting. She and Glenn had only been walking for a couple miles, but it felt like a marathon. They had had no shelter from the baking temperatures and glaring sun since they left the last town.
All this, and they hadn't even managed to find anything on their supply run.
"Let's stop a while," Glenn said from just behind her, but Maggie shook her head and tried to lengthen her stride even as the heat pushed down on her more closely.
"No time. We need to get to the next town within the hour if we're gonna make it back before dark."
"Maggie..." Glenn caught her hand and held it softly. "Five minutes."
She turned to look at him, and saw what she must look like: flushed and pale at once, sticky and exhausted.
"Five minutes," she agreed.
Glenn led her off the path and into the shade of the woods at the side of the road. He scanned the area for walkers while Maggie sank down onto the ground beneath a shady tree and leaned her back against the trunk. The relief from the sun's harsh beam was instant.
Glenn sat down next to her and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Good plan," she murmured.
"Mine always are," Glenn said, and she could hear the grin in his voice.
Title: Beautiful
Author:
cookiegirl
Characters/Pairings: Carol, mentioned past Carol/Ed
Wordcount: 327
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: References to domestic violence
Notes: For the prompt "Any, any, lace wedding dress" from
jujitsuelf at
fic_promptly
Carol had never tried harder to look pretty than on her wedding day. She wore a long, form-fitting dress made of delicate ivory lace, with a train that pooled at her feet and tiny cap sleeves that emphasized her slim arms. She carried a hand-tied bouquet of purple and white lilacs and she fastened a string of freshwater pearls around her neck.
When she reached the end of the aisle, Ed glanced at her briefly and muttered, "Not bad." Her heart sank.
After the honeymoon Carol tucked her dress reverently into a garment bag and hung it carefully at the back of the closet. The string of pearls went into a box on her dressing table. The lilacs went into the garbage; they had already withered and wilted away.
The next time she wore the pearls, they ended up scattered across the kitchen floor, the necklace broken as Ed ripped it from her neck. Afterwards, when Ed was sleeping off the liquor, Carol touched her fingers to the lace of the dress in her closet and wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake.
---
There was no point trying to be pretty in the middle of the apocalypse. If her clothes weren't soaked with blood and mud by the evening then Carol counted it as a good day. If they weren't soaked with sweat, it was nearer to a miracle.
She picked up suitable clothes along the way. When she and Ed had left home, she'd only had flimsy blouses and flowered skirts. By the time Ed had been buried a few weeks, she was wearing combat trousers and boots, and making sure she always had somewhere to carry her knife.
She caught her reflection in a lake one day, much later. Her shirt was rumpled and dirty, with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, revealing her now muscular forearms. Her face was smudged, her hair was a mess.
And she thought for a moment: I look beautiful.
This entry was originally posted at https://cookiegirl.dreamwidth.org/82882.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Author:
cookiegirl
Characters/Pairings: Daryl, Beth, pre-Daryl/Beth?
Wordcount: 387
Rating: G
Notes: For the prompt "The Walking Dead, any, looking for shelter from a thunderstorm" from
prisca at
fic_promptly
"There. Over there." Daryl nudges Beth and points north-west, into the woods.
Beth squints through the rain, the sheets of water making everything look blurry, as though seen through frosted glass.
"I can't see anything," she says, and then her teeth start to knock against each other uncontrollably. She is soaked, freezing cold, and hasn't spoken for the last mile.
"There's a hut," Daryl says, sounding sure. "A hundred yards or so through the trees."
Beth jams her hand against her chin to stop her teeth from chattering, then shakes her head. "You're not supposed to go into the woods in a thunderstorm," she says, her voice small and almost swallowed up by the rain, but she knows Daryl will hear it. He always hears her.
He turns now, drags his eyes away from the woods and focuses on her. "It's shelter," he says. "We have to." He reaches out and pushes a strand of wet hair away from her face - a rare gesture. Her face should be numb with cold but she feels it anyway.
Another crack of thunder echoes through the air, and Beth jumps a little, then starts to shiver. He's right. They can't keep walking like this much longer.
"Okay," she says, and Daryl nods, then leads the way.
----
"This is c-cosy," Beth says, her body still shaking even though she's taken off most of her wet clothes and wrapped herself in one of the blankets they found in the small hut. It is little more than a shed, and there is no food or water, but there's a roof which isn't leaking, a dry earth floor, a small bench and a couple of woollen sheets, so it feels like something akin to paradise.
"Uhuh," Daryl says distractedly, rubbing himself down with his blanket as he keeps his gaze on the small window and the rain still crashing down outside.
"Daryl?"
He pulls the now-damp blanket around his shoulders and turns to Beth. "Yeah?"
"Come sit?" Beth says, moving to the edge of the small bench so there is room for two.
Daryl hesitates for a moment, then gives a small shrug and sits down next to her. She shifts closer and he wraps his blanket around both of them, enveloping her.
"Storm'll pass soon," he says.
Beth shrugs. She doesn't mind it anymore.
Title: 24-7
Author:
cookiegirl
Characters/Pairings: Rick
Wordcount: 61
Rating: G
Notes: Written for One Sentence Fics day, for the prompt "Any, any, sunrise, sunset" by
sidonie at
fic_promptly
From the moment the sun rises, promising another day of fighting and running and starving and hurting and trying, to the moment it sets, bringing a short and restless night filled with imaginary ghosts who live in dreams and real-life monsters who walk through dark woods, Rick Grimes has only one thought: do everything he can to keep his people safe.
Title: Relief
Author:
cookiegirl
Characters/Pairings: Maggie, Glenn, Maggie/Glenn
Wordcount: 249
Rating: G
Notes: For the prompt "Any, any, a shady tree" from
badly_knitted at
fic_promptly
Maggie's skin was dripping with sweat, her hair plastered to her face. The Georgian heat was even more oppressive than usual, and she felt like she was melting. She and Glenn had only been walking for a couple miles, but it felt like a marathon. They had had no shelter from the baking temperatures and glaring sun since they left the last town.
All this, and they hadn't even managed to find anything on their supply run.
"Let's stop a while," Glenn said from just behind her, but Maggie shook her head and tried to lengthen her stride even as the heat pushed down on her more closely.
"No time. We need to get to the next town within the hour if we're gonna make it back before dark."
"Maggie..." Glenn caught her hand and held it softly. "Five minutes."
She turned to look at him, and saw what she must look like: flushed and pale at once, sticky and exhausted.
"Five minutes," she agreed.
Glenn led her off the path and into the shade of the woods at the side of the road. He scanned the area for walkers while Maggie sank down onto the ground beneath a shady tree and leaned her back against the trunk. The relief from the sun's harsh beam was instant.
Glenn sat down next to her and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Good plan," she murmured.
"Mine always are," Glenn said, and she could hear the grin in his voice.
Title: Beautiful
Author:
cookiegirl
Characters/Pairings: Carol, mentioned past Carol/Ed
Wordcount: 327
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: References to domestic violence
Notes: For the prompt "Any, any, lace wedding dress" from
jujitsuelf at
fic_promptly
Carol had never tried harder to look pretty than on her wedding day. She wore a long, form-fitting dress made of delicate ivory lace, with a train that pooled at her feet and tiny cap sleeves that emphasized her slim arms. She carried a hand-tied bouquet of purple and white lilacs and she fastened a string of freshwater pearls around her neck.
When she reached the end of the aisle, Ed glanced at her briefly and muttered, "Not bad." Her heart sank.
After the honeymoon Carol tucked her dress reverently into a garment bag and hung it carefully at the back of the closet. The string of pearls went into a box on her dressing table. The lilacs went into the garbage; they had already withered and wilted away.
The next time she wore the pearls, they ended up scattered across the kitchen floor, the necklace broken as Ed ripped it from her neck. Afterwards, when Ed was sleeping off the liquor, Carol touched her fingers to the lace of the dress in her closet and wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake.
---
There was no point trying to be pretty in the middle of the apocalypse. If her clothes weren't soaked with blood and mud by the evening then Carol counted it as a good day. If they weren't soaked with sweat, it was nearer to a miracle.
She picked up suitable clothes along the way. When she and Ed had left home, she'd only had flimsy blouses and flowered skirts. By the time Ed had been buried a few weeks, she was wearing combat trousers and boots, and making sure she always had somewhere to carry her knife.
She caught her reflection in a lake one day, much later. Her shirt was rumpled and dirty, with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, revealing her now muscular forearms. Her face was smudged, her hair was a mess.
And she thought for a moment: I look beautiful.
This entry was originally posted at https://cookiegirl.dreamwidth.org/82882.html. Please comment there using OpenID.