u/Super-Shenron

Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Today with the help of a nice lady and a gentleman of my own, u/WritingSweetroll and u/EmpleadoResponsable, I'm happy to host another bi-monthly contest with a theme we agreed on. While I'm eager to share it with you, I first want you to have a picture in mind.

Ever felt wronged by somebody else? What was the response to it? Did you consider it to be fair, considering the harm that was done to you? These kind of questions are the cornerstone of the very theme you're going to write around...

>!Justice!!<

Regardless of who you are, you're pretty much guaranteed to enter in conflicts of some kind. The important thing is to find the just outcome to resolve them. And should you not manage that, you have a whole system to turn to...or had. That ship has sailed since the dead didn't feel like staying dead anymore. So now, the few survivors have to deal with conflicts on their own. The most successful at it manage to make rules of their own. The least successful respond to feeling cheated by reaching for a gun. The possibilities are pretty much endless. Well, almost, because there are still rules we want you to abide by.

• One entry per writer, please! Don't bother posting multiple stories, you won't be getting brownie points for it.
• Your entry must be a One-Shot! No prequel, no sequel. Only a self-contained story will cut it.
• Please, use the theme we bothered to think up with the kindness of our hearts!
• Make sure to post your story before the deadline, which will be November 20th, 12:00 PM (Paris Time).
• Also, we're on a TWDG fanfic sub so...make it about TWDG! No crossover is allowed.
• Don't be afraid to enter for fun! We'll happily take reading a bad entry over not reading anything at all. There's a pretty flair at stake here!

Now...get to smithing, wordsmiths!

In loving memory of my dear friend,

E.Midnight.

I will never forget you.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Keep moving forward”

My heart screamed these unspoken words as my wooden step creaked against the stairs. One sound I’ve lived long enough with, the other the scar of my last run. Much like everything else, it all started to blur together. From the blood around every fight, all the way to the tears around every death. The sweat from every attempt to hold onto what was left, only to watch it slipping through my moist fingers. And all the while, my aching peg leg pestered me, as if to ask: “have you had enough?”. Yet, with my uneven pace, I passed the yard. Only after I pushed the spiked gate did I dare glance at the rising sun, and caught myself smiling. My mind, uncovered against the clouded sky, was all made up.

Closing the gate with another shove, I was treated to a trapped walker’s greeting. I didn’t return it, even as my hands reached for my dagger-happy instincts, and got a move on. As fast as my newest limb could allow, anyway. I may as well have been a tortoise struggling in the woods for what would have been a simple walk months ago. Right there, between the treacherous trees where we somehow survived an ambush. Unwilling to try my luck once more, it was my cue to press on and finally face the shack. While I paused to recover from the “march”, my hands practically threw themselves at the door, sparing no opportunity for any turning back. Inside, I took a moment to take in the pleasant warmth of the fireplace, laughing at the days we had to keep igniting and re-igniting a fire after an unlucky wind. Or rain. Sometimes, both. 

But the next moment, the thickening black smoke and embers threatened to surround the wooden walls, basked in a red glow. I tried to dash for the exit, but only managed to drop one of my crutches and just barely kept myself from following suit. Useless, just like my attempt to reach for my support. Having run out of options, I closed my eyes, waiting for the surrounding flames to scorch me to the bone. That moment never came. Opening a tentative eye made me wish I hadn’t.

Everything returned to normal, like the place wasn’t set ablaze a second ago. I scanned the one and only room in the shack time and again, laid an ear and even sniffed for a single whiff of burnt wood that wasn’t meant to be there. Despite my best efforts, it was nowhere to be found. That was it. I think I finally lost my fucking mind. The ranch rarely left my nights. Was it going to haunt my days too? Then, what would be next? Why can’t the good times linger too? The good times…

Taking a deep breath, I took a grip on my nerves. Why did I get shaken by fake flames? This is what I came here for. Every step up to that point got me here. Bitten, but still here, right next to my home. My friends. That wasn’t the time to stop. With great pain, I got back up, facing a heart much like the one I made for Louis and me. “That’s a potato?”, he said. If I didn’t want to keep the moment alive back then, I would’ve laughed at him being such a dork. It almost made me wish I had brought him here, to draw on his support against the wound carved in wood right in front of me: Minerva. Tenn deserved to know the truth about Sophie’s death. But was he ready to hear it? All he had left of his sister were memories and a name carved in stone that few wanted to visit. Perhaps this was why Violet didn’t let us scratch out this heart. No matter how much she pretended her choice didn’t hurt. 

Having stalled for this long enough, I turned to the opposite wall and grabbed my knife. First came my parents. Figured it would be a piece of cake. How hard could it be to carve my parent’s name, right? “Ed” and “Diana”, two simple names. But each letter had been harder than the last. I could read in one of the school’s books that a picture is worth a thousand words. But what were worth fuzzy pictures of what they looked like? Or what they sounded like? I could draw on the wonderful taste of the Saturday pancakes we used to make together. Or the purple flowers dad used to stick on the walls of my bedroom. But I missed them for so long that I sometimes wondered if I truly remembered them for who they were.

Like, I could remember all the times Sandra acted like the sister I never had. We even played a game where she did pretend to be. She was the very first of the many ghosts who died for my sake. But sometimes, I could only picture her as the monster who tried to eat Lee’s face, before I helped him cave hers in right on our living room floor. Still, I had the nerve to finish writing her name down. 

Next one had to be Lee. Last time I saw him, I leaned on him one last time to go rescue my people. “Him”, the one who always knew what to say to make me feel better before any big decision. Not the one I ran away from the one time he couldn’t. This world wasn’t like maths, he had to make it up as he went along whenever he didn’t have the answer. Honestly, he rarely did. But pretending he always knew what to say in these dreams somehow felt right until now. Probably because he hoped I didn’t notice. He didn’t need to be invincible. All he needed was to be…there. AJ kept telling me the same thing. Gotta remember to listen to him one day. 

I kept going with Kenny, Katjaa and Duck. A family of good people, taken by a world that was too much for them. No. I could blame the world, or Jane for leaving AJ in the snow. But it was I who pulled that trigger on my friend. Putting their names right next to each other felt right. He went to see them, didn’t he? Or, did he? It would be wonderful to think I believed that back then, instead of just making myself feel better for killing him. It would be beautiful if Tenn was right. If it were true, maybe I would get to tell Kenny how much AJ has grown. Someday, far away.

Carley. One of the first lives Lee had saved at the cost of another. For a little while, she was like a hero to me. Spent a lot of nights wishing to become just as brave. So obviously, Lilly’s name could never be on one of our walls even if I ever wanted to. There was no way I could ever forgive what she did to us, to Carley. For what she allowed herself to become. But I couldn’t just forget we used to be family, nor could I forget her ear-piercing shriek in that meat locker. Out of respect for what we had, I wrote down her father’s name. Larry wasn’t a good person, but not even he deserved to die the way he did. 

Omid definitely didn’t deserve his fate. After my parents and Lee, the worst day of my life, he and Christa were there for me. Omid always showed me kindness, never once letting me think it was my fault for messing up. 

Christa was kind too, but she also needed to be tough so I could be. When Omid and Junior were gone, it seemed like tough was all she had left to give. But when she spent her last moments risking it all for me against bandits, I finally saw the warmth she still had, buried deep within her. 

Probably why I couldn’t turn my back on Rebecca or Alvin. Even though they treated me like an enemy when I first met them (mostly Rebecca), somehow I could tell they weren’t bad people. Just broken ones, running away from their past. If only it were that easy. There were things we could never outrun. Which, in my case, meant literally everything. 

That made thirteen. All these years, all the people on my path, and I came up with thirteen names carved on wood that won’t mean anything to anybody but me. A girl who barely remembered their sacrifices. Their torn flesh as walkers sunk their teeth into them. Their brains splattered and the smoking gunpowder. The chorus of their pained cries for help or mercy. But few of their names. 

“I figured if we're all going on this crazy mission together, you might as well know who we really are.”

Ruby and the others eagerly told me what adults thought of them. What they were like. Trusted me with their backgrounds as they entrusted their lives to me. But rolling up my sleeve, I faced the scorching reminder they didn’t know a thing about me. Hell, how much did I know? I could barely make sense of the work I made on that wall. Was I preserving their fragile memories for them? Or for myself, who let so many of them spill out of my head? Funny. I thought watching them die was the hard part. Or worrying about meeting their fates every waking moment on the road. Worrying about being relied on, even by those supposed to look out for me, only to be left behind. 

No. The hard part was what came after. Having so much time to think about all I’ve been through, everything that I’ve done? It felt wrong. As unnatural as trying to breathe while swimming against the tides. What came naturally was telling everyone I was fine. And here I was, letting my blade clatter pathetically to the ground. Letting my eyes drown me in waters so cold they burned. 

“That's what's good about a broken heart. When you're looking at it all broken and shattered on the floor... You figure out the pieces you need versus the ones you liked. If you're ready to move on, that is…”

Why did I recall that? That baseball player from back then? I think his name was Xavi? No, Javi. He had been there for me, at a time when I was angry at the world for every time a loved one was gone. Every time a part of me died with them. But was I ready to move on? Truly? 

“Nothing lasts, Clementine. Not friends, not love. Not the place you call home. They'll all fall eventually.”

As would pieces of them I held in my head. That was true. But if forgetting was as inevitable as the fall, I’d just have to keep opening my heart to creating more pieces to hold onto. As many moments to look back on as possible, and every reason to keep moving forward. 

While I added another name to the wall, a sudden “Clem!” had me looking over my shoulder. AJ had found me. He had grown again. I could give it a couple more years before he’d grow taller than I. 

“Everyone was looking for you for breakfast! You can’t just keep sneaking out and-” My goofball started scolding me before he stopped, as though noticing something. “Clem, were you crying?”

“Sorry for worrying you,” I said, rubbing my face, “I just…needed a moment for myself. It won’t happen again.”

He reached for my arm. “Did you burn yourself? Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt. Not physically, anyway.” Sneaking a glance at the memorial, I silently thanked the nurse for taking care of him when I couldn’t.

“What does that mean?”

For some reason, I couldn’t resist a smile. 

“It means I have something to tell you. Let’s join the others.”

At first hesitating, he accepted my request with an "okay" and stepped forward. Before following him, I allowed myself a full looking back at the memorial wall.

“I’ll miss you.”

I missed him too. Everyone. But they would have to be a little more patient. They owed it to those who come after.

In loving memory of my dear friend,

E.Midnight.

I will never forget you.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Keep moving forward”

My heart screamed these unspoken words as my wooden step creaked against the stairs. One sound I’ve lived long enough with, the other the scar of my last run. Much like everything else, it all started to blur together. From the blood around every fight, all the way to the tears around every death. The sweat from every attempt to hold onto what was left, only to watch it slipping through my moist fingers. And all the while, my aching peg leg pestered me, as if to ask: “have you had enough?”. Yet, with my uneven pace, I passed the yard. Only after I pushed the spiked gate did I dare glance at the rising sun, and caught myself smiling. My mind, uncovered against the clouded sky, was all made up.

Closing the gate with another shove, I was treated to a trapped walker’s greeting. I didn’t return it, even as my hands reached for my dagger-happy instincts, and got a move on. As fast as my newest limb could allow, anyway. I may as well have been a tortoise struggling in the woods for what would have been a simple walk months ago. Right there, between the treacherous trees where we somehow survived an ambush. Unwilling to try my luck once more, it was my cue to press on and finally face the shack. While I paused to recover from the “march”, my hands practically threw themselves at the door, sparing no opportunity for any turning back. Inside, I took a moment to take in the pleasant warmth of the fireplace, laughing at the days we had to keep igniting and re-igniting a fire after an unlucky wind. Or rain. Sometimes, both. 

But the next moment, the thickening black smoke and embers threatened to surround the wooden walls, basked in a red glow. I tried to dash for the exit, but only managed to drop one of my crutches and just barely kept myself from following suit. Useless, just like my attempt to reach for my support. Having run out of options, I closed my eyes, waiting for the surrounding flames to scorch me to the bone. That moment never came. Opening a tentative eye made me wish I hadn’t.

Everything returned to normal, like the place wasn’t set ablaze a second ago. I scanned the one and only room in the shack time and again, laid an ear and even sniffed for a single whiff of burnt wood that wasn’t meant to be there. Despite my best efforts, it was nowhere to be found. That was it. I think I finally lost my fucking mind. The ranch rarely left my nights. Was it going to haunt my days too? Then, what would be next? Why can’t the good times linger too? The good times…

Taking a deep breath, I took a grip on my nerves. Why did I get shaken by fake flames? This is what I came here for. Every step up to that point got me here. Bitten, but still here, right next to my home. My friends. That wasn’t the time to stop. With great pain, I got back up, facing a heart much like the one I made for Louis and me. “That’s a potato?”, he said. If I didn’t want to keep the moment alive back then, I would’ve laughed at him being such a dork. It almost made me wish I had brought him here, to draw on his support against the wound carved in wood right in front of me: Minerva. Tenn deserved to know the truth about Sophie’s death. But was he ready to hear it? All he had left of his sister were memories and a name carved in stone that few wanted to visit. Perhaps this was why Violet didn’t let us scratch out this heart. No matter how much she pretended her choice didn’t hurt. 

Having stalled for this long enough, I turned to the opposite wall and grabbed my knife. First came my parents. Figured it would be a piece of cake. How hard could it be to carve my parent’s name, right? “Ed” and “Diana”, two simple names. But each letter had been harder than the last. I could read in one of the school’s books that a picture is worth a thousand words. But what were worth fuzzy pictures of what they looked like? Or what they sounded like? I could draw on the wonderful taste of the Saturday pancakes we used to make together. Or the purple flowers dad used to stick on the walls of my bedroom. But I missed them for so long that I sometimes wondered if I truly remembered them for who they were.

Like, I could remember all the times Sandra acted like the sister I never had. We even played a game where she did pretend to be. She was the very first of the many ghosts who died for my sake. But sometimes, I could only picture her as the monster who tried to eat Lee’s face, before I helped him cave hers in right on our living room floor. Still, I had the nerve to finish writing her name down. 

Next one had to be Lee. Last time I saw him, I leaned on him one last time to go rescue my people. “Him”, the one who always knew what to say to make me feel better before any big decision. Not the one I ran away from the one time he couldn’t. This world wasn’t like maths, he had to make it up as he went along whenever he didn’t have the answer. Honestly, he rarely did. But pretending he always knew what to say in these dreams somehow felt right until now. Probably because he hoped I didn’t notice. He didn’t need to be invincible. All he needed was to be…there. AJ kept telling me the same thing. Gotta remember to listen to him one day. 

I kept going with Kenny, Katjaa and Duck. A family of good people, taken by a world that was too much for them. No. I could blame the world, or Jane for leaving AJ in the snow. But it was I who pulled that trigger on my friend. Putting their names right next to each other felt right. He went to see them, didn’t he? Or, did he? It would be wonderful to think I believed that back then, instead of just making myself feel better for killing him. It would be beautiful if Tenn was right. If it were true, maybe I would get to tell Kenny how much AJ has grown. Someday, far away.

Carley. One of the first lives Lee had saved at the cost of another. For a little while, she was like a hero to me. Spent a lot of nights wishing to become just as brave. So obviously, Lilly’s name could never be on one of our walls even if I ever wanted to. There was no way I could ever forgive what she did to us, to Carley. For what she allowed herself to become. But I couldn’t just forget we used to be family, nor could I forget her ear-piercing shriek in that meat locker. Out of respect for what we had, I wrote down her father’s name. Larry wasn’t a good person, but not even he deserved to die the way he did. 

Omid definitely didn’t deserve his fate. After my parents and Lee, the worst day of my life, he and Christa were there for me. Omid always showed me kindness, never once letting me think it was my fault for messing up. 

Christa was kind too, but she also needed to be tough so I could be. When Omid and Junior were gone, it seemed like tough was all she had left to give. But when she spent her last moments risking it all for me against bandits, I finally saw the warmth she still had, buried deep within her. 

Probably why I couldn’t turn my back on Rebecca or Alvin. Even though they treated me like an enemy when I first met them (mostly Rebecca), somehow I could tell they weren’t bad people. Just broken ones, running away from their past. If only it were that easy. There were things we could never outrun. Which, in my case, meant literally everything. 

That made thirteen. All these years, all the people on my path, and I came up with thirteen names carved on wood that won’t mean anything to anybody but me. A girl who barely remembered their sacrifices. Their torn flesh as walkers sunk their teeth into them. Their brains splattered and the smoking gunpowder. The chorus of their pained cries for help or mercy. But few of their names. 

“I figured if we're all going on this crazy mission together, you might as well know who we really are.”

Ruby and the others eagerly told me what adults thought of them. What they were like. Trusted me with their backgrounds as they entrusted their lives to me. But rolling up my sleeve, I faced the scorching reminder they didn’t know a thing about me. Hell, how much did I know? I could barely make sense of the work I made on that wall. Was I preserving their fragile memories for them? Or for myself, who let so many of them spill out of my head? Funny. I thought watching them die was the hard part. Or worrying about meeting their fates every waking moment on the road. Worrying about being relied on, even by those supposed to look out for me, only to be left behind. 

No. The hard part was what came after. Having so much time to think about all I’ve been through, everything that I’ve done? It felt wrong. As unnatural as trying to breathe while swimming against the tides. What came naturally was telling everyone I was fine. And here I was, letting my blade clatter pathetically to the ground. Letting my eyes drown me in waters so cold they burned. 

“That's what's good about a broken heart. When you're looking at it all broken and shattered on the floor... You figure out the pieces you need versus the ones you liked. If you're ready to move on, that is…”

Why did I recall that? That baseball player from back then? I think his name was Xavi? No, Javi. He had been there for me, at a time when I was angry at the world for every time a loved one was gone. Every time a part of me died with them. But was I ready to move on? Truly? 

“Nothing lasts, Clementine. Not friends, not love. Not the place you call home. They'll all fall eventually.”

As would pieces of them I held in my head. That was true. But if forgetting was as inevitable as the fall, I’d just have to keep opening my heart to creating more pieces to hold onto. As many moments to look back on as possible, and every reason to keep moving forward. 

While I added another name to the wall, a sudden “Clem!” had me looking over my shoulder. AJ had found me. He had grown again. I could give it a couple more years before he’d grow taller than I. 

“Everyone was looking for you for breakfast! You can’t just keep sneaking out and-” My goofball started scolding me before he stopped, as though noticing something. “Clem, were you crying?”

“Sorry for worrying you,” I said, rubbing my face, “I just…needed a moment for myself. It won’t happen again.”

He reached for my arm. “Did you burn yourself? Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt. Not physically, anyway.” Sneaking a glance at the memorial, I silently thanked the nurse for taking care of him when I couldn’t.

“What does that mean?”

For some reason, I couldn’t resist a smile. 

“It means I have something to tell you. Let’s join the others.”

At first hesitating, he accepted my request with an "okay" and stepped forward. Before following him, I allowed myself a full looking back at the memorial wall.

“I’ll miss you.”

I missed him too. Everyone. But they would have to be a little more patient. They owed it to those who come after.