Hello everyone! My name's Enora and I'm the biggest fan of AMC's The Walking Dead! I also have a crush for our dear Daryl Dixon but be quiet, ha-ha!
I'm fond of reading fictions on this site for a very long time: translations, American, French and even German. And I love reading OCs!
For those who don't really know what is it:
"'OC' stands for original character. An original character is a character that has been created by the writer, and does not appear in the actual book. Some fan fiction authors create romantic pairings between an original character and a character from the actual book."
So, yeah, I made one! But I won't talk 'bout more, let's read! … And give me some of your reviews !
NOTA : I'm French, so I'm waiting for someone who can correct my fan fiction 'cause I can, and I write some mistakes (grammar or orthography). Must be an English/American.
XOXO !
Chapter n°1The beginning of the end
My name is Mélanie. Just … Mélanie. Before, I was Mélanie Lincoln. But in this world where everything left and burn, would I need to give my surname? I don't know.
I don't even know if I would have the opportunity to talk to somebody for last time. I'm alone since so many times. I don't know any more whom I am really, where I go. Every day, I discover a new piece of "I". Or I lose some fragments.
I changed.
The curves of my body which were normal are reduced. We can see my ribs, which strike violently my skin. I feel ugly.
When I look in the mirror of the old shack where I sleep since a few days, I don't recognize myself any more.
My long blond hair lost their brightness. The light curls which framed my face with some crazy locks are repatriated in a kind of ponytail I made quickly.
When my face is not covered with dried or fresh blood, I see the color of my skin. Insipid. My skin is an insipid white. In spite of some tasks of bronzing which appear when I go hunting on sunny days, this face is ugly.
Only my mouth makes contrast and keeps a small pinkish brightness. But a scar situated in the corner of my lip reminds me the sad truth.
What about my eyes … «Bleus comme le ciel de Provence" sang me my mother before the dark work came out, and takes her with himself.
- "Mom" I whispered, tight teeth.
My eyes are always blue, yes. But my look remains motionless, expressionless. I have nobody anymore of other than I to look.
I continue to scrutinize the mirror which seems to defy me by showing me a reflection which does not look like me. But what more hurts me, it is that it is me.
Why me ? Why am I the one who survives? My brothers, my mother, my father. They were better than me, sure.
But this world swallowed them as it swallowed my heart.
Sometimes, I remember the best moments which I was living with those who I love. These moments which seemed to me so insignificant in the time…
I still hear my mother's laugh. I was as clear as a bell... her dextery to flip delicious French pancakes the "World's better pancakes» like we said.
The jokes and the ceaseless teasing of my two brothers, Ian and Jared, towards me.
I might find that boring, today, I would give my life just to find them.
- «They're in Heaven, Mélanie " I thought …
Now, they join the stars. They're in peace.
Some people would think that it would be better to join them … But for my part, it's not so easy. Something stop me to do it and I struggle to find the reason …
Is it because I'm fearful, too weak?
I dunno'.
But I think that if God let me live, there is a reason.
I am not religious, I am an atheist. But in that kinda world, every buoy represents a glimmer of hope for me, and pray and the last buoy that I got.
A noise rouses me from my thoughts.
I heard steps … Walkers? No way, steps are too fast for one of them.
But it can't be an animal. Be realistic, Mél :
Somebody, a guy's coming in.
Panic came to me; I looked for my gun, a revolver that I took out from a cadaver in Atlanta.
«What an idiot! " I scolded, talking 'bout myself.
I knew that leave my gun at the first floor gonna be a mistake…
I heard a second sound.
No matter who that could be, discretion wasn't knowledge for him, this damn guy, or this chick.
The beatings of my heart were so strong, I was afraid that this person hears it and comes to kill me or worse …
We could imagine everything …
I closed my eyes for a second, trying to calm me down and to think about the situation …
I looked around me, looking anything that could hurt, or kill.
In these kinda moments, you don't know what to do anymore, then, anything can help you: a screwdriver, a knife …
Not being able to catch my bow and to risk attracting the intruder, I took what my hand touched at first as weapon of defense: a katana. It was normally an element of decoration in one of the rooms where I was. I had already notice it but I had not planned to use it or to take it.
First 'cause that's very bulky and then 'cause that have no idea how to use this weapon.
Steps seemed to go away in the house. Determined, I moved, katana in the hand, on the stairwell …
But arrived at the doorstep …
- " Then? Found you something? "
- " Nah, just many empty cans … "
- " Take it, we could get back the rainwater with! "
I notice a woman's voice. A woman and a man.
Apparently, they looked for foods …
Two solutions :
The first one's to let them take what they found and not to show myself…
But on the other hand, I had to defend my own, like a wolf.
It's true, I had so much worked and hunted, searched a heap of house to get these foods …
I dunno if it's 'cause I had not met alive people for quite a while or if it is my huntress's instinct which urged me to come down, but I did it.
I went down the stairs one by one, taking good care not to strike the wall and not to walk on steps what could creaking under my weight …
For my biggest happiness, any steps creaked, and I thought I've been quiet.
The intruders went in the cellar, what urged me not to walk too abruptly or too hardly, just in case.
I blew five seconds, to evacuate a part of my stress because of this effort and in the risk which I had taken by coming down from the story …
The voices stayed still hear, coming from the story. My spirit made them resound …
Suddenly, the noises which betrayed their presence doubled in volume, beginning like a concert with my beating h My rib cage amounted to a speed more than lashed … She(it) was going to explode …
They were coming back !
I hid myself behind the sofa.
- "ANYTHING … Seems to be already rummage through "
I shivered, doubting me that this man spoke unconsciously about me.
- The kid needs more bandages!
- " Carl. His name is Carl. Pharmacies are quite empty. Any house are full of it, the school will be the last place to visit. " Answered the male voice.
And then I saw them: the one, the man, seemed to have like twenty years. He had the brown hair and the eyes. It was certainly a guy with Asiatic origin.
As for the girl, sheseemed quite so young. I looked to her: no more than thirty years. She was also scrawny as me, but shewas beautiful, her.
- «It's sucks ! " moaned her.
My heart had a failure when an idea came to me: " Mélanie, you didn't meet people since you left Atlanta. You're life sucks. You have to go to speak to them. They will listen to you, I think. If they had bad intentions, they wouldn't risk their life to save a kid's one!
But when I was singing, I couldn't stop watching again the gun of the Asiatic. As if the object threatened me.
«Anyway, you have nothing more to lose… "
A point for my thoughts.
It is in these moments when the expressions «a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do" " nothing venture nothing gain" take a whole sense and can turn out insuperable.
Determined, I leaped up. They didn't saw me so I moved with a shy step to meet them.
Every step represented big challenge) for me. I didn't know if this step will lead me to a podium, or if a depth gonna be hide at the end.
One step, two steps … More than some meters and I'll know if I die, or be overcome with joy.
Maybe none of the both.
I was at a few meters of them, my katana in the hand, lowered along my hip.
A tip was felt in my back.
- "One movement and you're dead.»
First time I saw him.