His eyes were once filled with warmth,
an ethereal kindness,
sending warmth flickering,
through whoever looked to him.
The intelligent glint in his eyes,
the age in the soft folds of his skin,
the hopeful smile which curled his lips.
He had been a being of kindness,
of wisdom,
of intelligence.
But he was gone.
I had to watch the ruby blood splatter,
the warm liquid splashing against his ivory skin,
I had to watch, his eyes turning dark,
his lips opening ever so slightly,
to allow a final breath of air to slip out.
I imagined that final breath moved towards me,
rattling my bones,
hissing in my ears,
ensnaring my senses.
My gun had fallen from my trembling fingers,
And I could do nothing,
but watch his head hit the grass,
and look upon the Governor.
The twisted, malevolent glare on his face.
The iciness of his gaze.
When I looked to him,
I could feel nothing but a burning anger,
a hissing sensation,
the clash of metal on skin,
the feel of hot blood,
the sensations of pain,
skin burning,
bones cracking,
panging echoing from your systems,
weakness thrumming through your systems.
It was only that I could feel,
when I looked to Hershel Greene.
My father,
who was always filled with warmth,
an unflickering kindness.
That I felt would never falter.
But now,
it seemed it had.
YOU ARE READING
-Not A Princess-
Fanfiction*Includes spoilers from The Walking Dead* It was in struggle that Beth Greene found meaning and heroism. It was in struggle that she changed, and morphed into a warrior, riddled by the terrors of corruption. It was in struggle that she learned to tr...
