a wild surmise

A Lexicon of Liches, Witches, Wizards and More! (Part 2)

Fire sweeps across the battlefield, burning and immolating everything in its wake. waves of fire thrown everywhere as a lone figure plans where to place his next fiery explosion. in the end nothing remains except ash and the smell of burning flesh;

With a single command the dead rise, husks of unholy energy being directed by the will of another. ghouls, bones and shadows march endlessly at your discretion to devour all that lives. in the end, entire cities fall and are raised as a lich creates his army;

Madness is released on the world as eldrich horrors are born and studied. methodologically transmutated experiments creating something more adept at killing then the world has ever seen before. the mad experimenter opens the cage, realizing the beast to the populace to document its effectiveness.

To certain individuals, only one thing matters. Power; the power to destroy, to deceive, to attain absolute grasp on those of lesser merit. yet, when magics have the ability to bend even reality, naught one is above the mastery of the spellcaster.

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That summer I turned a corner in my soul down that Red Dirt Road…


A soft, cool breeze swept through Main Street of the sleepy town; by the time it had reached the front of the quaint church, young Rick Grimes was already feeling his garments he referred to as his Sunday best clinging to his form. The Georgian sun was already relentlessly beating down on the group of church goers though it was still well before noon. Rick stood quietly as his mother, Sheila spoke to one of her acquaintances from one of the many clubs she belonged to. He was waiting for her to say that it was all right for him and his younger brother, Jeff to return home on their own.

Sheila watched her husband Gene as he stood making conversation with a group of his friends and Rick watched them both.

Thud!

Rick felt a dull pain course through his upper arm from where the bony fist had made contact; he turned his head quickly to see Jeff retreating quickly with a devilish grin on his face. Instinctively, Rick ran after his brother and caught him near where the church belltower stood defiantly against the backdrop of the blue, cloudless sky.

He caught the younger Grimes by the sleeve of his dress shirt and slung him to the ground.

“Asshole,” said Rick as he pummelled Jeff’s arm with punches of his own.

“Ow! I’m tellin’ Mama you’ve cussin’ in the church yard!” he squealed, causing Rick to let go of him and cease his assault.

“Jerk,” said Rick. “You ain’t walkin’ home with me or coming fishin’. You can go with Mama to her tea party.”

Jeff screwed up his face, “Sorry, Rick.”

“Too late for sorry,” Rick answered as he began to walk back towards their mother.

“Please, I don’t wanna go to no stupid tea party,” the boy pleaded. “I’m sorry.”

“Well don’t come and sucker punch me, asshole,” Rick whispered.

“Sorry,” said Jeff once more. “Please let me come with you.”

Rick sighed and looked at his brother; he may have been annoying, but there was no way he would let him suffer through one of the stuffy, boring gatherings that their mother frequented on Sundays. Besides, he still needed someone to help carry the fishing gear down to the river; they would need to walk since Rick did not have a car of his own yet.

“Okay,” Rick offered. “But stop bein’ so annoying.”


Michonne searched through the kitchen drawers and cupboards for something that she could use as a container for the ingredients she was going to gather. It was one of the things she loved the most about spending the summers with her grandparents in rural Georgia; the abundance of fresh fruit and vegetables. Living in Atlanta meant that she did not get to spend a lazy Sunday morning picking produce that she could use later in one of her grandmother’s recipes.

She found a small plastic container under the sink; she held it up before shaking her head after realizing it would not hold half of the items she was set on procuring.

“Here,’ said her grandmother Pattie as she held out a small brown basket. “This should do just fine.”

“Thank you, Gramma,” she answered, before kissing her cheek and rushing towards the door.

“Michonne,” Pattie called out. “Where you think you’re goin’ dressed like that? You better get changed outta those church clothes before you leave this house.”

The teenager stopped in her tracks and offered her grandmother an apologetic look.

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied before placing the basket down on the counter and running upstairs to her room.


The hard ground was rough against Rick’s bare feet as the boy raced his younger brother along the red dirt road. The first one to reach Johnson’s fence was declared the winner and could annoy the other sibling for the rest of the day. Rick almost always won. This time, however, he let Jeff speed by him and come to a halt at the old wooden fence. Rick stopped and slipped his shoes back on and rolled the legs of his pants down before approaching the scene.

There was a girl who was inside of the yard and squatting down low; she looked to be a year or two younger than Rick and had dark skin that seemed to be shimmering in the daylight; her hair was pulled back tightly from her face.

“What ya doin’?” asked Jeff as the girl looked up at them.

“Pickin’ blackberries,” she replied in a matter-of-fact way and continued doing what she was doing.

“You can’t be in there,” Jeff said, pointing towards her. “That ain’t your property.”

Rick placed one of his now covered feet on the bottom of the fence and leaned on it as he watched the teenaged girl curiously.

“Who says it isn’t?” she replied, turning her attention to Rick now.

Her eyes were as dark as the midnight sky, and just as pretty; Rick felt his face flush warm so he looked away.

“This property belongs to Mr Johnson,” Jeff said sternly.  

Judge Johnson,” the girl corrected.

“Yeah well, we ain’t technical around here,” Jeff responded.

“Oh really? Seems like you’re gettin’ pretty technical to me,” she countered.

Jeff rolled his eyes, “Tell her, Rick. She can’t be in there and she can’t be takin’ Mr Judge Johnson’s berries.”

“Is this kid always so annoying, Rick?” she asked, straightening her posture and looking into Rick’s eyes.

Rick felt his heart rate begin to quicken as his mouth grew dry; he cleared his throat and moved from where he had leaned against the fence. He wiped his hands on his trousers before hooking his thumb into his belt and tilting his head to the side.

“He may be annoyin’, but he’s right; you can’t be in there takin’ other peoples’ property, even if they are growin’ wild,” he surmised.

She snorted and then laughed, “What, are you the law around here or somethin’?”

Now Rick felt annoyed by her laughing at him; “No,” he replied, but could not think of anything else to say.

Michonne rolled her eyes and then went back to picking her berries before saying to the brothers, “Run along now, Sheriff; and take your annoying little Deputy with you.”

Jeff poked his tongue out at the older girl who was too busy with gathering the blackberries to notice. Rick turned slowly and began to walk away; he made it a few paces down the red dirt road before looking over his shoulder at her. As their eyes met once more, she held his gaze until he stumbled over the lose road underfoot and had to watch his steps.


The sun had just begun the last leg of its journey for the day and Rick felt his stomach growl from hunger. He and Jeff had continued fishing past lunch and from the emptiness Rick felt it was probably time for them to venture home and find something to eat.

“You hungry?” asked Rick; Jeff turned to face his brother and then nodded. “We should get goin’ then.”

“Okay,” said Jeff as he started to reel his line in.

“Grab the net,” Rick requested as he started to pack away the bait, knives and other fishing gear that they had taken with them. “I got the other stuff.”

Once they were ready to leave their fishing spot, the boys cut through the thick greenery and made their way up to the highway. They would walk a mile, not going near town, until they reached Old Route 3. Their home was somewhere in the middle of the dirt road that linked many of the farming properties. Rick’s family had owned a dairy farm in King County for five generations and his father still tended it, though he did not think he would like to go into the family business. Rick had other plans.

The older of the Grimes boys had the net slung over his shoulder and it bounced against his back; the two medium-sized redear sunfish that they had gutted and cleaned by the water’s edge lay lifeless at the base of the net. Both boys smelled of fish and their clothes and shoes were soiled by specks of dry mud; Rick planned on going home, cleaning himself up and then cooking the fish. They stopped a moment as Jeff needed to remove a stone from his sneaker. Rick urged him to move to the roadside as he heard a vehicle approaching; it stopped beside them and when the dust settled a smiling Mr Johnson rolled down his window.

“Hello there, Rick, Jeffrey. Been down by the river today?” he asked as Rick greeted him amicably.

“Yes, sir,” Rick answered. “Only caught a couple o’ shellcrackers.”

“Well you let me know if you get any catfish,” said Mr Johnson. “I’ll pay you twenty bucks for a couple of those. Mrs Johnson loves cookin’ ‘em almost as much as I love eatin’ ‘em.”

“Yes, sir,” Rick replied with a smile. “I sure will.”

“You boys need a lift home?” the elderly gentleman asked, before Rick could thank him for the offer but kindly decline, Jeff had already said yes.

“We’ll put your gear in the trunk,” said Mr Johnson as he exited the vehicle and opened the trunk; the boys placed their fishing poles and other things therein and went to get into the car.

“Hop on in the back there,” Mr Johnson advised as the front passenger’s seat was taken; Rick sat behind the old man and Jeff behind his passenger.

Rick wiped the sweat from his brow then suddenly felt his face grow warm when he realized the girl whom they had met earlier was now sitting in the front of the car staring back at him.

“Rick, Jeffrey,” Mr Johnson started. “This here’s my granddaughter, Michonne. She’s stayin’ with us this summer.”


Next Time: Rick finds himself walking down the road in hopes of running into Michonne again; he’s intrigued by her but is she in the mood for running into him?

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