ᖭི༏ᖫྀ
desolation: a state of complete emptiness or destruction.
anguished misery or loneliness.
-
"Ellie frowned at my refusal to shake her hand. I sensed her following me into the bar, and my emotions were bubbling over, threatening to erupt. I wan...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝕎𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕦𝕡,
I felt a pang in my neck that ached down into my shoulders. I sat up, stretching my limbs above my head as a soft yawn escaped my lips. I had overslept, evident by the sun streaming through my window at a lower angle than usual.
"Fuck," I quietly muttered to myself, placing my fingers on my temples and rubbing small circles, trying to rid myself of the stress already building. I needed to leave the house five minutes ago. I rolled out of bed with a long sigh and smelled the hoodie I wore to bed, shrugging to myself.
"Smells fine," I said into the silence of my room. I didn't have time to change, let alone shower. Besides, patrol is patrol. It's killing infected, for crying out loud—I don't need to be all spiffy for that. I'd rather shower after and wash away all the dead-people splatter.
Moving my tired limbs with difficulty, I waited for the blood flow to reach my half-asleep feet as I stumbled sleepily to the corner of the room. I grabbed my backpack, pistol, and any other supplies I'd need for patrol. My eyes landed on my journal for a moment, and I decided to take it. Maybe there'd be something on the route worth sketching.
I grabbed another jacket to layer over my hoodie. The frigid air outside required as much—not just for a stroll, but for patrol, it was a necessity. After adding the additional layer of clothing, I went back to my backpack and slung the straps over my shoulders. Once my Converse were on, I headed out the door.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝔼𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖'𝕤 ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕞
My eyes squinted against the harsh rays of the sun as I walked toward the diner (which also functioned as a bar), Tipsy Bison, to grab a bite before leaving the gates of Jackson for patrol. On the way, I passed by a few people. Some gave me an awkward wave, which I returned; others didn't seem to notice my presence.
