Imogene Wilkerson

The curious one, the daydreamer

0 · 58 views · located in Post-Apocalyptic Earth

a character in “The Crawl”, as played by lushescape19


FULL NAME: Imogene Wilkerson
GENDER: Female


HAIR: Strawberry blond, shoulder length and uneven, matted with leaves and dirt clods
HEIGHT: 5’7”
DISTINGUISHING MARKS(SCARS,MOLES): Mutilated skin on the knees and palms of hands; a barely-noticeable scar on her throat about half an inch long; a palm-sized patch of burned skin on her belly
SKIN COLOR: Slightly tanned
BODY TYPE/BUILD: Slender w/ moderately muscled arms and strong runner’s legs


FAMILY MEMBERS: Older brother in a group of bandits (Wes Wilkerson), and the rest are presumed deceased; Raised by a kind stranger, Emilia (deceased)
RELATIONSHIPS: Traded goods with a group of survivors just outside the city, but formed no real relationships there or with anyone else
SOCIABILITY: Hesitant to socialize, but generally unafraid of most individual travelers she encounters


DRINK/SMOKE/DRUGS: Rarely comes across cigarettes or alcohol, but happens upon (and indulges in) the occasional wild-growing hallucinogen
WEAKNESSES/VULNERABILITY: daydreams and is unstable at times; unobservant, prone to walk right into traps
CLEANLINESS/NEATNESS: Filthy and unapologetic about it; wears mud as a sunscreen on her face and arms
FEARS: sleep (night terrors threaten to give away her hiding spot at night), drowning
COMFORTS: long, sometimes philosophical chats with Rhett
STRENGTHS: putting strangers at ease with her apparent gullibility, extremely proficient with reading/writing/language skills; high-endurance runner


BIOGRAPHY: Imogene was separated from her parents at a young age. She can’t remember their names, but she sees their faces in her dreams. An elderly stranger, Emilia, found Imogene and Wes wandering the waste. Emilia took them in, keeping them safe and teaching them the ruthless ways of survival until the day she died. Imogene was 17 when she died, Wes 23. The siblings had different ideas about how and where to live after that. Wes joined a large group of bandits that inhabited the city. Imogene ran with then for a few days before going into seclusion, deciding that the murdering and stealing life wasn’t for her. A year into her seclusion, Rhett appeared, the voice in her head. He was a creation of her own mind, designed to keep her sane. Rhett is the insightful and observant portion of Imogene that has been repressed. He is also the voice of reason, often warring with Imogene’s own sense of morality.


SCHOOLING LEVEL: Taught to read and write; self-educated on a wide variety of topics
GEOGRAPHY: Can read a map and a compass
COOKING: Can gut, skin, and cook all manner of wild creatures; can distinguish safe vegetation from unsafe
SEWING: Proficient at sewing fabric, not flesh
MECHANICS: ignorant of mechanical things

So begins...

Imogene Wilkerson's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Imogene Wilkerson

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Imogene’s life had been reduced to little pleasures like playing with pill bugs. She let the little things roll around on the palm of her dirt-caked palm and admired their innumerable little legs. She envied the way they could curl into themselves and hide.

Her existence was a cruel one: scavenging in the wastes all day, barricading herself in the suburbs at night. For all its cruelty, though, Imogene fought hard against boredom. She treasured finding a book over finding a can of beans, just because the book would nourish her for longer. In fact, Imogene had nearly become accustomed to the gnawing hunger in her gut. She could almost ignore it. Almost.

For as long as she could remember, that gnawing hunger had accompanied her. Finding wild berries and cooking up the occasional lanky rabbit was like throwing a bucket of water on a raging wildfire. She became an expert at averting her mind, finding little projects to keep her from the hunger pains. On that particular day, Imogene spotted something that promised to entertain her for months.

A skateboard. The wood was cracked, but it looked ridable. The decrepit wheels needed tightening, and finding a screwdriver was highly improbable. Instead, she jammed a butter knife into the slot to tighten the screws. Working with the skateboard, she sat on the porch of a house she frequented - the house with an attic. The attic door was perfectly camouflaged. She felt safe there. At least, somewhat safe. With her project completed - it seemed sturdy enough to ride now - she watched the sun move across the sky.

You’ve wasted the day, Imogene, griped Rhett.

“Oh please, Rhett. I found water.”

Water, but no food. You didn’t put forth effort today. You’re getting lazy.

“Oh, shut up,” she retorted, dropping the skateboard to the sidewalk. She stepped on the board tentatively, rolling forward only to be stopped by the weeds breaking through the concrete. “This will help me get around quicker. Save some energy.”

You’ll break your neck.

“Every day is a risk. I could be gutted by bandits or mauled by Beasts in the next breath. And you’re complaining about the dangers of a skateboard?”

Imogene laughed as she fell, scraping the palms of her hands. She experimented with the skateboard until the sun was low in the sky, painting the cloudless expanse in hues of tangerine and magenta. Curfew. The Beasts would emerge soon. One whiff of her and she was done for. Once they spotted a human, they didn’t forget. They didn’t give up.

The locks of the home had been destroyed by the pillagers. It was nearly impossible to find a door that locked properly. Imogene had to find other ways to keep the Beasts out. She piled rotting, dusted furniture in front of the door, and then she retreated to the attic. She felt warmth toward the space, and she hoped she could stay this time. All of her other homes didn't last long. Whether by Beast or stranger, her sense of security was always ruined before she could get comfortable.

But she was comfortable in her attic, despite the heat; it became trapped in the attic and threatened to cook her alive. She opened the small window, letting in a warm breeze that did little help. Her pallet was sequestered in the corner. The ratty blankets provided padding against the wooden floor. She eased her tense body down, feeling the familiar ache in her shoulders and back. As the moon found its mount in the star-infested sky, Imogene’s eyes slid closed.

Hours passed, but when her eyes snapped open, it felt like she had just closed them. She waited. The Beasts outside woke her often, but she knew better than to assume nothing was amiss. There was a thud below her. Something was inside. But how?
You forgot to barricade the back door, you imbecile! Rhett's voice was a loud bellow in her head. Her heart lurched, her gut tightened, and a cold sweat sprouted on her forehead. Fight for flight response urged her to make a choice, to do something, but Rhett convinced her to wait.

Terror squeezing the heart in her chest, she waited. The Beasts were hardly intelligent enough to find the attic, much less find their way inside. And yet…

The attic door whined as it was yanked down. It was a person. Questions bombarded her mind. He must’ve been hiding out in the house, waiting for nightfall, she thought.

MOVE! Rhett shouted, snapping her out of it.

She grabbed the skateboard and her well-worn satchel and squirmed out the attic window just as the intruder clambered into the attic, lunging for her. She heard his roar of frustration at watching her tumble onto the roof. Imogene attempted to stand, lost her footing, and fell through the muggy night air. Her back hit the sun-crisped grass, forcing the air from her lungs and a grunt from her throat.

The panic seeped into her slowly. She was paralyzed by fear, lying in the grass, listening to the sounds of the savage world populated with Beasts salivating, waiting to devour her.