Carl Walkers: A Fictional Narrative

Ralph’s mother’s voice floated into his room. “Ralph, lunch is ready. Are you hungry?” she called. No, Ralph was not hungry. After weeks and weeks of surviving on such a meager diet of fruit and the occasional bite of pig, his stomach still hadn’t recovered. Ralph shuddered at the thought of eating pig. A week or so ago, his mother made him eggs and bacon for breakfast. Upon seeing the bacon, Ralph was violently ill with thoughts of Jack and his hunters.

I woke up to the sound of tropical birds echoing in my ears, the beautiful songs they were singing almost made me forget the horrors of the past few days. Lying on a dead mans bed, I thought, well that’s a new one. As I got up I pondered if I was to be put on trial whether the jury would rule it as self-defense or murder. My next thought was that I was famished but immediately I got a bad taste in my mouth remembering the previous night. I then went to the kitchen got some breakfast consisting of bread and jam. Then I began packing provisions cheese, bread, hardtack, pemmican, and water.

1. List the characters in the story you’re analyzing. Define each, identifying them as: round/dynamic; flat/static. Discuss what makes each either round/dynamic or flat/static. Use specific examples.

I slide into the uncomfortable white and red seat and open the bag like a kid on Christmas morning. For a moment I savor the smell of the grease and meat, before reaching in the bag and grasping the burger. I lift the food to my mouth, relishing the springy bun and firmness of the titanic sandwich, before digging in. Just as I had imagined, the grease drips down my chin and threatens to fall on my faded Nirvana shirt, but now is no time for napkins. I finish chewing and swallow in record time, barely breathing as I eat. Another bite makes its way into my mouth, and while I chew, I set down my sandwich and pull my favorite part of the meal out of the bag. The fries. The red and yellow box smiles at me as I set it down on the table. Tenderly, I pick up a limp fry and take a bite, my eyes closing as the potato and oil hit my tongue. The salt sticks to my fingers, the crystals shining in the light. I am finally

I can’t be that hungry. I think to myself and roll my eyes. My stomach starts to growl. Hush, I guess I am that hungry. I need to find something, but nothing is really hitting the spot. I lean down and create a snowball…no, correction, an ice cream scoop in my hand. As I follow the cookie path eating my vanilla ice cream my stomach continues to growl. This just isn’t what I’m craving. Vanilla is the classic choice, but it’s too plain. I reach the apex of the trail and I can see hundreds of flavors dotting the landscape like a Monet painting. The trail takes me to birthday cake, which is just too colorful for me. Next to cookies and cream, which is a nice balance of both flavors in every bite, but I’m not that structured. Then I walk through coffee ice cream without even trying it since it has always been too much of an adult flavor for me. I’m coming to my wits’ end as I stroll through lychee, too exotic for me, and the other myriad of different tastes which aren’t quite right for me. I throw my hands in exhaustion and fall back onto the ground. After all of this searching, I haven’t found what fits me. It shouldn’t be this hard. These thought circling around my mind make me oblivious to the fact that I am slowly sinking into the ground. Once I realize this I start to struggle and fight back only to matters worse as I become engulfed by a fluffy, white mass. I taste my attacker. It’s marshmallow. My foot slowly hits something more solid, an

Conversely, the speaker of “The Hunger Past” tells the tale of how her father influenced her to appreciate the simplicity of properly cooked food, contrasting the depth and profound influence demonstrated in “Two Fish, One Morning”. Ignorant to the beauty of properly cooked meat, the speaker initially dismisses her father’s comment on her inability to properly cook, claiming that her overcooked meat was how she liked it. However, after observing her father’s “vigor and passion” during each meal and tasting a properly cooked yakiniku, the speaker finally comes to understand why her father and grandfather insist on certain cooking methods. Appreciating “the full-bodied taste of the beef [that] coated [her] mouth”, the speaker comes to the realization

Kat frowned listening to him retreat. "Well fuck. Guess we better go make sure he isnt gonna kill us in our sleep." She was just getting out of the tub, sore as hell. Tying her mahogany hair up in a ponytail she heard him call up about visitors. "Damn" She opened the door and with her dog at heel, teeth hated he walked down the stairs with her. Kat looked best up, bruises all up her arms, her throat, even on on her jaw. Her torso was bruised and her ribs were likely bruised or broken. She saw the Walkers outside just as she saw the man. "Maybe we can just wait them out. They dont know we're here." She murmured. She knew she didn't have a chance to outrun them in her current state. She hadnt eaten or drank in over a day."

Our stomach’s we’re grumbling like thunder. Luckily, we could see from down the street, we’re approaching a grocery store. I knew I had to devise a plan in my mind to get us something to eat. The door opened with ease, but I was overcome by this incredible sense of warmth. Usually I’m nervous, but this time, the grocery store felt cozy, like how a home should

When Rick woke up from his coma, he awakens with no clue on the conundrum the world is in. He presumed he was talking to Shane with him holding a vase and only turned around to see crumbling flowers and walking out the room with shock to see the hospital looking like a war zone. Rick was completely bewildered when he saw all the corpses and bullet holes in the walls. Furthermore, he looked through a door, seeing a dead woman with only a small portion of her body left, this left him petrified. Eventually,

I lay awake yet inattentive before finally shoving the warmth from my body in an attempt to revive my senses. Stale but brisk air embraced me, leaving me unguarded from harsh discomfort. This, however, did awaken my mind and jumpstart my flesh. My stomach fought me. Nothing except for a few strips of microwave cooked bacon, a slice of turkey, and a scoop of mashed potatoes had entertained my digestive system the day before. Thanksgiving had normally been a time for a gargantuan feast but this year was different. Money was in short supply.

I knew that my taste buds would soon be overjoyed. I smelled the aroma of buttery, macaroni and cheese overpowering the house. Later, my mother in law called “Time to eat”. I rushed to the kitchen making it there before anyone else. She stabbed the macaroni, and I heard the sound of gooey, melty, cheesy goodness. She then lifted the spatula, cheese still stretching from the pan, and slapped a large chunk onto my plate. I sat down at the dining table and did not wait for anyone else to join me. I smiled as I breathed in to see if the smell of the macaroni had faded. The heavenly smell continued to linger. I jabbed my fork into the piece and proudly stuffed the warm chunk into my mouth. The delightful bite touched my tongue as I proceeded to chew, making sure I could savor every detail. My taste buds went crazy. I chewed every last crisp, creamy bite devouring my big portion. Not one elbow noodle remained on my plate, just a little golden grease from the

Everything is still and quiet. I survived the game. I tip-toe my way towards her room, and gently open the door, making sure it wouldn’t dare make a sound. I opened the door wide enough to make sure I have a full view of the room but was still concealed by the door’s frame. She wasn’t in her bed, only a neatly made bed remained in her place. My hope rises up and I wanted to sing on the top of my lungs. She was gone, she was really gone! My request had come true. I sink to the floor exhaustion overcoming me. My stomach growled, I place a hand over my stomach, I need food and then I’ll sleep I thought. I make my way towards the kitchen, now that she’s gone, I could eat as much as I want, I won’t have to hold back myself. I started to whistle, it felt good to finally be

Rick, Carl, Abraham, Sasha, Eugene, and Aaron were loading up the RV to take Maggie to the Hilltop. While Daryl, Michonne, Rosita, Glenn, and Carol were missing with Morgan out searching for her. I was pleading with dad to let me go with them and all I could get out of him was "No, Lyla I need you here. I know you're an adult but I need someone here who is strong and smart so please stay here we need to get Maggie to the Hilltop." I nodded and walked up to the gate with spencer and finished my shift at gate duty and watched as Dad drove off in the RV with my family. I climbed down the guard tower. "Hey Spenc you Okay finishing the shift? I need to go check on my little sister. " "Yeah Lyla I'll be okay. Have fun with Judith." He said with a

I picked up my pack, and put it back on my back. The sudden weight almost drove me to my knees, but I told myself that I had to keep going. I half-ran, half-stumbled back to the trail where Asher and I had hiked earlier, fueled solely on adrenaline. In the distance, I could just make out the trail. As the impeding gloom crept about me, I fumbled to grab my flashlight from one of the pockets of my backpack. I finally found it, and I flicked it on, sending a beam of light in front of me. It shook up and down with my arms as they pumped furiously in time with my legs. I sprinted until I couldn’t sprint anymore. I jogged until I couldn’t jog anymore, and I walked until I finally collapsed in exhaustion. I slowly sat up, groaning with the exertion. From my pocket, I pulled out what was left of my energy bar, and devoured it in seconds. I finished off what was left of my water from the hike earlier, then slowly stood

The trees willowed above the campers like fast moving water in a rapid. I consumed the words of the gospel as they flashed across the screen faster than Usain Bolt in his 100-meter dash, the calming sound of the strumming guitar as it fills the room. I feel the crisp pages of my song book grace my fingers as I open it to the first song. A dimly lit campfire glows against the campers’ faces as they harmonize together in song. As we got done singing we joined hands in prayer. I feel the slightly moist hands of my counselors and friends as we came together. I could smell the aroma of the fan favorite poppy seed chicken in the dining hall. The smell of the food overpowered the smell of the campfire smoke. After prayer, we rushed to the dining hall