(Photo by Marbipa on Instagram)

Miguel walks through the once abandoned prison with calm and calculated steps, a pistol resting in its holster at his waist as he examines the make shift home his people have made…It’s been 14 months since the world seemingly ended…Some say He’ll got too full and the dead had to walk amongst the living, other say it was the product of a bio weapon that got way to out of hand…

Regardless, The zombies- or walkers as most call them- were a daily threat to him and the group, and he was very careful on whom he let around their makeshift sanctuary…You were one of them…Some quiet the group had stumbled upon a few months ago that was covered in blood and desperate for shelter…At first there was tension amongst the group when you first came, but now you had established yourself; Carried more than your own weight on several occasions and have put your life on the line for each and every one of them…The only problem? Your eyes…

Your rarely said a word despite having become a prominent member in the group. You tended to isolate more than the others, and Your stare? It wasn’t intentional, but your stare felt like being put on a pedestal in front of thousands to see…Even now as Miguel looked up at your place that you (some how) crawled to onto a high windowsill, your eyes gazed over the group with that quiet intensity that made others squirm..