What do I miss most? [A quiet laugh] Well, do you mean before or after it all changed? There's not too much I miss about my world as I knew it last week, or last month, or back in September. Met some nice people, though, so I guess I can say that. Met some nice people and had a decent life in Woodbury. Andrea, Merle, the rest of my people in our fine town. They were all good people, and that's nice to see when times are hard.
[He pauses, the look on his face shifting to something a bit more serious.]
Before that? Well, I miss my life. Part of it, not everything. Just something as simple as sittin' on the front porch, listenin' to REM, and drinkin' a glass of sweet tea on a hot afternoon in Athens... You can't do that anymore. It ain't that simple.
[Some of these things, however, are things he doesn't discuss with others: His daughter, for example, and other people who were close to him. Sure, Penny is still around, but it's not the same. That smilin' little face ain't the same now that she's "gone."]
I miss my wife. Wish things wouldn't have turned out the way they did, but I'm glad I have my daughter with me. Don't know what I'd do without my sweet girl.
[Another pause, the smile returning to his face]
Anymore questions? I've got a few more minutes. Ask me somethin' a bit easier to answer next time, like my favorite drink or my favorite REM album.
Sample Entry Two:
The photo of Philip, his wife, and his daughter, Penny, sat on his dresser, partially obscured by a stack of books and a few loose papers. The photo served as nothing but a reminder of everything he'd lost in this world after everything started to go downhill. Well, his wife was gone far before this, and whether that was a good thing or not, he didn't know... But Penny, she didn't deserve to go like she did. She didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve it, none of 'em deserved it. Nobody deserved this life they've got now, but that's just how things work, right? That's the hand he's been dealt and he has to live with it now.
The bottle of bourbon called his name, quietly at first but growing stronger with each minute. And, finally, after a good five minutes of resisting the dark liquor's siren song, he breaks down and pours himself a glass before retiring to his room to have a bit of alone time. Dealing with people every day gets tough, especially when that wasn't really his thing back before the world went to shit. This? Everything everybody knows him as in Woodbury? Yeah, this was a far cry from the sad life he led in Waynesboro.
"Gets easier every day," he mumbles to himself as the lights flicker on.
Rows of fish tanks, ten gallons a piece, line the wall opposite his leather recliner. Each tank filled with a murky water and at least two, maybe three severed heads. Some of them were already biters, some were well on their way, and others just couldn't keep on living. They all suffered the same fate, though. They all became a source of entertainment for The Governor. He spent a considerable amount of time in this room each night after curfew. The men were at the wall, his woman was satisfied, business had been taken care of for the day, and he needed time to unwind with a stiff drink.
"You gotta be prepared for 'em," he continued, taking a sip of his drink. "You can't get weak, just keep focused. That's what all this is for... Those poor bastards serve as a reminder. They're up there to remind you what you came from and to remind you what you'll end up as if you don't ready yourself for the outside world. You gotta do all you can to keep Woodbury together, got it?"
Jaws bit aimlessly at the water, glossed-over eyes rolling about in each head. The one on the top? Scott was his name. Good man, came all the way out to the Wal-Mart on Highway 19 to help bring all these fish tanks back to Woodbury. And look at him now, nothing but a reminder to Philip of what he had to become. He was determined to become everything he wasn't, to become something that was fit to live and survive in this world. And that's exactly why Scott's head was sitting pretty in that top tank. It was there so Philip Blake could know without a shadow of a doubt that he wasn't scared of the horrors this world held anymore.
3
What do you miss most about your world?
What do I miss most? [A quiet laugh] Well, do you mean before or after it all changed? There's not too much I miss about my world as I knew it last week, or last month, or back in September. Met some nice people, though, so I guess I can say that. Met some nice people and had a decent life in Woodbury. Andrea, Merle, the rest of my people in our fine town. They were all good people, and that's nice to see when times are hard.
[He pauses, the look on his face shifting to something a bit more serious.]
Before that? Well, I miss my life. Part of it, not everything. Just something as simple as sittin' on the front porch, listenin' to REM, and drinkin' a glass of sweet tea on a hot afternoon in Athens... You can't do that anymore. It ain't that simple.
[Some of these things, however, are things he doesn't discuss with others: His daughter, for example, and other people who were close to him. Sure, Penny is still around, but it's not the same. That smilin' little face ain't the same now that she's "gone."]
I miss my wife. Wish things wouldn't have turned out the way they did, but I'm glad I have my daughter with me. Don't know what I'd do without my sweet girl.
[Another pause, the smile returning to his face]
Anymore questions? I've got a few more minutes. Ask me somethin' a bit easier to answer next time, like my favorite drink or my favorite REM album.
Sample Entry Two:
The photo of Philip, his wife, and his daughter, Penny, sat on his dresser, partially obscured by a stack of books and a few loose papers. The photo served as nothing but a reminder of everything he'd lost in this world after everything started to go downhill. Well, his wife was gone far before this, and whether that was a good thing or not, he didn't know... But Penny, she didn't deserve to go like she did. She didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve it, none of 'em deserved it. Nobody deserved this life they've got now, but that's just how things work, right? That's the hand he's been dealt and he has to live with it now.
The bottle of bourbon called his name, quietly at first but growing stronger with each minute. And, finally, after a good five minutes of resisting the dark liquor's siren song, he breaks down and pours himself a glass before retiring to his room to have a bit of alone time. Dealing with people every day gets tough, especially when that wasn't really his thing back before the world went to shit. This? Everything everybody knows him as in Woodbury? Yeah, this was a far cry from the sad life he led in Waynesboro.
"Gets easier every day," he mumbles to himself as the lights flicker on.
Rows of fish tanks, ten gallons a piece, line the wall opposite his leather recliner. Each tank filled with a murky water and at least two, maybe three severed heads. Some of them were already biters, some were well on their way, and others just couldn't keep on living. They all suffered the same fate, though. They all became a source of entertainment for The Governor. He spent a considerable amount of time in this room each night after curfew. The men were at the wall, his woman was satisfied, business had been taken care of for the day, and he needed time to unwind with a stiff drink.
"You gotta be prepared for 'em," he continued, taking a sip of his drink. "You can't get weak, just keep focused. That's what all this is for... Those poor bastards serve as a reminder. They're up there to remind you what you came from and to remind you what you'll end up as if you don't ready yourself for the outside world. You gotta do all you can to keep Woodbury together, got it?"
Jaws bit aimlessly at the water, glossed-over eyes rolling about in each head. The one on the top? Scott was his name. Good man, came all the way out to the Wal-Mart on Highway 19 to help bring all these fish tanks back to Woodbury. And look at him now, nothing but a reminder to Philip of what he had to become. He was determined to become everything he wasn't, to become something that was fit to live and survive in this world. And that's exactly why Scott's head was sitting pretty in that top tank. It was there so Philip Blake could know without a shadow of a doubt that he wasn't scared of the horrors this world held anymore.