Bad feelings are one part of what sucks about this world. Good feelings are the other. Because the good stuff is what can get taken from you, the rug that gets pulled out from under you. A warming feeling that, once it's gone, leaves you out in the...
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M E G A N
I sit in the courtyard watching families line up for the venison Daryl provided for dinner. People of all ages sit at tables, wait in the line, or get up to wash their plates.
A few gusts of wind wisp through my pulled-back hair. My morning being well-spent enjoying the beautiful day, and once again avoiding the inside of the sell block.
It took a few months, but once I grew accustomed to the people around me, I finally started to feel safe enough to take guard after what happened with the governor. But I still remain within the fences at all times.
A chorus of "Hey Daryl!" and "Thanks Daryl!" sounds out as the man enters the pavilion, due to the food on everyone's plate being his treat. Daryl and Carol stand and talk under the pavilion as one of the new kids approaches the two of them.
The three talk as Daryl theatrically licks all of his fingers before sarcastically shaking the timid boy's hand. The boy sheepishly smiles and walks away from the two adults with pride.
I return my gaze to my food, as I sit, alone, on the cement edge of the courtyard. A quarter of a can of peas, and a slab of fresh venison on my plate. I pick up the venison and eat it like beef jerky, ripping at it with my hands.
I look out into the field and see Rick and Hershel tending to their crops.
The man has been spending all of his time in the sunlight weeding and plowing, as to avoid his responsibility as our leader. It's been weeks since he's been appropriately armed. Rick sifts through the dirt in his hands, ignoring the buildup of walkers at the fence.
I notice that on some days, Rick even makes Carl farm with him. The man plans on turning his son into a Jack of all Trades, but is probably falling short under the stubbornness of the boy.
Carl and I haven't spoken much since those few days when Rick forced us to bunk together. Shortly after the war, we brought all of the governor's abandoned people to the prison, which made it a whole lot easier for me to avoid the boy.
Ever since, we've been on a steady incline. We've hardly had any deaths, rebuilt what we could of the prison, planted crops, even obtained farm animals and assigned people to certain tasks.
My task is no longer taking watch on the guard towers. I am in charge of opening and closing the gates when people go on runs. Other than that, I help maintain the size of the herd at the fences.
