𝐒𝐀𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ― carl grimes

three ; new friends.

ONCE MY FATHER left the room, and after a long, excruciating five minutes of trying to force myself to move and get out of bed, I finally jump off of my bed. My feet hit the ground harder than I expected, and the hard wood floors feel like they'll freeze right under my feet in a second. I cringe at the cold temperature of the dark floors.

     Times like these, I find myself wishing I had slippers. Having them might provide at least some comfort, and warmth to my cold feet. But I don't. So now I have to deal with the ice cold floor! Regardless, I make my way over to my dresser and rummage through the disorganized clothes to try and find something deemed remotely appropriate for a funeral.

     My hands seem to have a mind of their own, and pull out a white dress with pink floral print to show my eyes. It was by no means black, like you'd expect someone to wear to a funeral. But the problem was, I didn't own any black clothes. My floral dress will just have to do, then, because the alternative was nothing at all.

     After I slip into the white dress, I step out of my room. I look down at the stairs, hesitating to walk down them. Dreading to go to that funeral. I've never been to a funeral before. Except now, I guess.

     I gather up the courage and begin to step down the stairs. Slowly, like it was the night of prom or something. Instead, it's the morning of Otis' funeral. Suddenly, before I even know it, I'm at the bottom of the stairs. I turn my head over to look into the living room, and a faint image materializes as Beth's face enters my line of sight. Only Beth. I make my way over to her, standing right in front of where she's sitting on the couch.

     She slowly stands up and looks at me. "Come on, let's go." The silhouette of her hand– extends towards my body; her fingers outstretch gently, and her hand gently grasps into mine, our fingers intertwining as we position ourselves next to each other. We make our way towards the front door, which she softly opens. Our, well, my eye's immediately spot the small group of people standing around and collecting rocks. Our steps, which had initially began slow, steadily grow hastier with every passing moment, knowing what awaited us at the end of the path. I still try to walk slowly, not wanting to accept that Otis is dead. A funeral only confirms that.

     We finally make it to the end of the path. Beth tells me to start picking up rocks to stack around where Otis' grave would be. He won't have a grave. There'd be no point to dig him one, since there was no body. That we would be able to find.

     I slowly pick up any big rocks I can find. There's not many, and people get to most before me. That's always made me mad. People getting to stuff before me. It always makes me look like I'm putting in no effort.

     We place them in a barrel. The sudden sound of a motorcycle approaching sends a shiver down my spine. It seems like everyone else heard it, too, by the way their heads turn, the way they were immediately alerted by its presence just like me, it was as if the noise itself was a harbinger of things to come. All at once, I see the approaching vehicle, or vehicles. A motorcycle leading the way in the front, a car following behind, with an RV right behind the car. It seems like the noise is growing louder, signaling their approach.

Like pawns upon a chessboard, we all stand at the front of the house, watching the new arrivals get out of their vehicles. One by one, I notice a new person enter my line of sight, each stranger seemingly more ominous, and worried than the last. Once they've all escaped their vehicles, Rick, Lori, my father, and T-Dog conveniently walk out of the house.

"How is he?" The old man asks Rick and Lori. His arms temporarily flap from his sides, just go go back to their original place. His mouth hangs open like he's shocked or something. Maybe he's just a mouth breather?