Frodo: Sam Hates Gollum, But That Is What I Shall Become Once I Have Lost Myself To The Ring… He’ll

Forget Me

Chapter 2

I head out the RV shyly, suddenly nervous in the company of people again. We're on the edge of a farm, a big campsite, a large farm house not far away. It's untouched by wendies and I find myself in awe as I look around. Rick spies me from the fire and he gets up walking towards me.

"You joining us for dinner?" He asks with a smile and my stomach grumbling answers his question as we chuckle.

"You never told me your name," He says, walking me to join the group of people around the fire.

"Lucy," I say and he shakes my hand.

"Lucy...?"

"Just Lucy," I state and he pulls his hand away with a questioning look, but asks no further. We stand at the edge of the ring of people and I feel all eyes on me as I stand at Ricks side.

"Everyone, this is Lucy, Lucy, this is my wife Lori, my son Carl. That's Carol and Andrea. Shane, T-Dog, Glenn and Dale," I give them a small wave, painfully self conscious.

"Come on, take a seat," Rick says and I look around a moment before his wife smiles warmly at me and pats the spot next to her and her son. I smile back and walk over, sitting next to the small boy. I'm handed a plate of food by the woman Carol and I smile my thanks, unable to speak all of a sudden in company. I eat silently while everyone else chats and I feel eyes on me from the side. I look to see Carl staring at my tattoos. I raise an eyebrow, smiling.

"Sup?" I ask and he looks at me with the same clear blue eyes as his dad.

"I was just looking," He says with a shrug and I look up into the fire.

"An unasked question is the most futile thing in the world," I hum and look at him from the corner of my eye, laughing at his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I just mean it's okay to ask," I say and he gives me a grin.

"What's that?" He asks and points to the puckered pink skin on my inner forearm by the crease of my elbow.

"That's a pirate brand," I say and I watch his eyes widen.

"Pirate brand?"

"Yep. Y'see, the cheapest way to mark a person as a pirate is to brand them. That's what the law does when they catch you, that's your first warning. They brand you with this 'P' so that you can never escape your piracy crimes," I say seriously and he gawps. In reality, the pirate brand on my arm was a really stupid drunken thing me and a couple friends had done years ago. Unable to stay serious as he looks crossed between seriously excited and terrified, I end up grinning at him and he gives me a little shove, scoffing.

"That's not true,"

"Yar tis true matey, a blood thirsty pirate was I," I growl and he just rolls his eyes, laughing.

"What about that one?" He points at three small black silhouette of sparrows in flight, wrapped around my wrist.

"Makes my arrows fly better," I say and he tilts his head.

"Oh I'd show you but currently my bow is awol," I say pointedly looking at Rick who has his arm around Lori, watching us intently. He winces, getting up.

"Sorry Lucy," He says and disappears, coming back with all my things except my handgun. I frown.

"The man letting us stay on his farm asks that we don't carry guns," Rick explains and I roll my eyes.

"Fine, but don't get too attached to it," I say and he smiles, sitting back down.

"Anyways, check it out," I say and hand Carl my bow. He can't do himself any damage to himself or the bow.

"Whoa," He breathes running his hands over my jet black recurve bow. He pulls at the string.

"It's solid," 

"It's gotta be to put proper power into a shot," I explain and he nods.

"You any good?" He asks and I shrug.

"I can put dinner on the table," I say and he grins.

"Hey Lucy, what's with the accent?" I look to the guy talking. Asian, stupid baseball cap on his head, scrawny, kinda cute I guess. He's talking about the twang to my accent. I have a soft voice, my Georgian accent barely comes through, elocution lessons do that to you.

"It's English," 

"It's uh, subtle," 

"So are you by the looks of it," I say, smirking and laugh as he blushes. Carol takes my plate from me when I'm done.

"Did you make it, the stew?" I ask and she nods.

"I haven't had anything that good since pre-wendies," I say and she smiles widely.

"I'm glad you liked it," She says happily and I smile at her.

"What the hell’s a wendy?" Glenn asks and I force a small laugh.

"Well what do you call those things?" I point my thumb in the general direction of the trees.

"Walkers," He says simply and I nod.

"Why wendies?" Dale asks curiously and I lick my lips nervously.

"It's short for wendigo," I murmur and he raises an eyebrow. I look around, everyone looking at me, waiting for me to explain.

"The legend of the Wendigo or Outikou, is a Cree legend, Algonquin Native American. They said that the wendigo was a creature with yellow eyes and rides on the North wind. They said he is so thin, it is like skin stretched over a skeleton. When he turns to the side, he disappears. What lips he has is tattered and bloody. His flesh decaying and dying. The stench of decomposition like a vile perfume around him," I pause, looking up and see everyone staring at me, making me blush.

"Please continue," Dale says encouragingly and I swallow hard, looking back into the fire.

"The Wendigo eats and eats, but is never full. The more it eats, the hungrier it gets. Starvation is all it knows, the constant need to fill it's belly. It lives only to feast on the flesh of man, though the Wendigo himself is a man. If you were unfortunate enough to survive a bite from a Wendigo, you too would become Outikou. You would crave flesh and desperately hunt it down. You would forget who you are, what you were, you are now the Wendigo. You would want nothing more than to silence the moan from your ever empty belly, to fill the hollow gap that you would never fill. Constantly feeding an impulse that will never go away, not until you are dead. And the only way to kill Outikou, to kill the Wendigo, is to cut off the head and burn the body.

This was just all too familiar when it all began. I couldn't keeping calling them people, not any more. They're Outikou, Wendigo. Wendy for short," I murmur and I glance up. Everyone looks blown away apparently.

"Whoa," Lori breathes and I force a laugh.

"You did ask," I say, getting to my feet as they share a nervous laugh.

"I'm sticking with walkers, that gave me goosebumps," Glenn says to T-Dog who nods.

"Heeby-jeebies man," He says and shivers while I blush.

"I'm gonna head off, I've creeped you all out quite enough for one night," I say with a smile.

"I thought it was cool," Carl says and I look at him with a smile.

"You got a tent Lucy?" Dale asks and I shake my head. I think it's plain I don't, I have my jacket wrapped around my quiver and that's it.

"I'll sleep up a tree," I say with a shrug and Carol gasps.

"You can't sleep up a tree," Andrea scoffs and I narrow my eyes at her.

"Funny, it's what I've been doing since this began,"

"But what if you fall?" Carol asks, concern on her face and I pat my belt.

"I strap in," I say and Rick shakes his head.

"I'm sure we can find somewhere for you, Shane would you-"

"Rick, really, it's fine. I'm fine," I say backing away and I say a quick goodnight before anyone else can argue and I disappear into the woods.

I climb a tree close to camp, near a tent that stands on it's own, I can see it from here. I watch it as I pull a cigarette from my thigh pack and light it up. I spot that guy walking into it and I raise my brows as I watch him enter his tent. Daryl... I'm sure Rick said his name is Daryl. I blush brightly at the thought that Daryl, who didn't even know me to care, must have carried me from the woods all the way to camp. It's the only thing I can think of that got me here. I inhale deeply on my cigarette, wondering why he would do that. Then I remember what he said. They're good people, which includes him.

* * * * *

Forget Me

“Daryl and Lucy sittin’ in a tree, K - I - S - S - I - N - G!”

Chapter 16

“Always,” My lips form the word but no sound tumbles out. My eyes slowly flutter open. I feel so light, like my body isn’t mine. I blink a few more times, adjusting to the light in the room. Daryl……

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Forget Me

Alone in the apocalypse he saved her life, now she had to do the same.

Chapter 3

I look at my reflection, pain in my chest. My lip is swollen and split. Down my body flash purples, browns and yellows. Some fresh bruises over the top of old. My chest rattles as I breathe in, a sure…

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Yeah, I’d watch Muppets Lord of the Rings

Reblog if you think a woman can be complete without children

Y’ALL HAVE TIME TO REBLOG THIS. IT TAKES LESS THAN FIVE SECONDS.

I think some people forget that some literature and some media is meant to be deeply uncomfortable and unsettling. It's meant to make you have a very visceral reaction to it. If you genuinely can't handle these stories then you are under no obligation to consume them but acting as if they have no purpose or as if people don't have a right to tell these stories, stories that often relate to the darkest or most disturbing parts of life, then you should do some introspection.

I’ll still read the dense text but I will mutter this as I go

some of you need to romanticise the fucking paragraph break

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