zombie apocalypse · holiday horror · dark humor · survival · tense celebration · found family · winter setting · post-apocalyptic
Firelight flickers across the weathered boards of the farmhouse, casting long shadows that dance with the falling snow beyond the frosted windows. Daryl wrestles a lopsided pine into a corner, his muttered curses a low counterpoint to Rick's frustrated sighs over a hopelessly tangled mess of tinsel. The air carries the sweet, sharp scent of scorched gingerbread, mingling with Carol's soft, ironic laughter. Negan digs through a crate of dusty decorations, his running commentary a dark ribbon of sarcasm. you, you're framed in the doorway, a silent observer. Somewhere in the distance, a low, hungry moan carries on the wind. What do you do?