Story cover for Adrenaline - d.d - ON HOLD by rudelyreedus
Adrenaline - d.d - ON HOLD
  • WpView
    Reads 3,250
  • WpVote
    Votes 141
  • WpPart
    Parts 7
  • WpHistory
    Time 33m
  • WpView
    Reads 3,250
  • WpVote
    Votes 141
  • WpPart
    Parts 7
  • WpHistory
    Time 33m
Ongoing, First published Dec 13, 2014
My head is pounding, muffling the sound of moaning corpses from my occupied mind. My vision blurry, distracting my thoughts of Lori, Carl and My brother's whereabouts. 
My lack of exercise seems to be mocking me as my knotted stomach, weak knees and aching thighs slow me down and my right foot dodges a straggler's hand. 

This is how it's going to be now isn't it? 

This is how my life is going to play out, being chased.
Day in, day out.
Just running, barely escaping corpse's bony hands and bloody bodies as they reach for the human Happy Meal of which they desire.

And one day they're going to win. Those...corpses, are the reason that I never got to live a life. I never got to go out and explore the world. I never got to experience life as it was, I never fell in love. 

Love. 
There was no chance it could still blossom in the pits of a collapsing world that now belongs to the dead...
Could it?
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Scars • Daryl Dixon by 0Myraa0
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Daryl always put on a mask, an impenetrable facade that made him appear indifferent, as if he didn't care about anything or anyone except for himself. He pushed people away, deliberately keeping them at arm's length, but I knew better. I had seen glimpses of something more beneath that hardened exterior-something real, something human. It wasn't obvious, and it wasn't easy to see, but it was there. I didn't know the full extent of his story, of the pain and the ghosts he carried with him, but I could tell that behind his rough edges, there was a man who cared. The more I watched him, the more I saw that contradiction in him-this mix of isolation and vulnerability. I didn't know him the way I wanted to, but at the same time, there was a strange, inexplicable feeling that I did. It was as if there was something familiar in him, something I recognized, even though we'd never truly shared our pasts. His eyes, especially, told a story all their own-a silent narrative of hurt, survival, and loss. There was a depth there, something raw and honest, as though his life before all of this had shaped him into someone who had learned not to trust, not to hope. I found myself wondering what kind of life he had before the world fell apart-what his family had been like, what his childhood had been shaped by. I could imagine the kind of father he had-a man whose influence left deep scars, someone who might have made Daryl believe that showing emotion or affection was a weakness. It wasn't hard to guess that the lessons Daryl had learned were ones forged in silence and pain, things that had made him pull away from others and close off the softer parts of himself. Daryl Dixon x Fem!OC
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When you lose everything? How do you survive? When the bad gets worst, how do you find the good? I had the perfect life before this all started. I was married, had two sons and a baby girl. Now all that's left is him. My one hope at staying sane. But even he is slipping through my fingers. I do not own Daryl Dixon, The Walking Dead or most of the themes of this story. I just had an idea and it's now 60 chapters long. This starts in season 4 and is so far being written into season 9. I have plans to continue writing through season 10 as well. I hope you enjoy, there are dark themes to this story so I request if your under 18, please don't read this.