Walking Dead Carl Costume Novels & Stories

Good Carl, you take this beating and you like it. Huffing I wrapped my hands around Carl's neck and began to twist and twist until finally with a ripping pop Carl's head came off completely allowing fuzz to go flying. Seeing red I wasn't satisfied by this end and turned to the dummy beside Carl. With a growl I lunged towards it extending my claws so that I could swipe them against the dummy's emotionless face again and again ripping it to tiny little shreds until all that remained was flying stuffing and pieces of fabric.

“I don’t care what this is. I’m going in.” As soon as Carter crossed the threshold, his ripped jeans, black leather jacket, and white tee dissolved like smoke on the wind. In their place clung a long, heavy cloak, ink-dark and gleaming at the seams. He froze mid-step, spinning toward me with eyes blown wide, before dragging his gaze down his body. “Holy shit, Charlie—are you seeing this?” My throat went dry, but I still managed a shaky laugh. “You stripped and changed clothes in half a second?”

he joked. I laughed softly. “Maybe later. Good luck though.” He smiled at me, that same brotherly smile, and went outside with David. I watched them from the window for a while. Carl was wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans. He looked strong and capable as he lifted the hood of the car. Every time he laughed at something David said, my chest felt tight. I went back to my book, but I couldn’t focus. After some time, I decided to take them cold drinks. I poured two glasses of lemonade and walked outside.

I raised my head after asking and went blank, my cell phone almost fell off. "Carl, hey!" "No, don't call him!" I tried to tell Leonidas, but it was too late. Carl Malaver, dressed in a long-sleeved black V-neck sweater with some white flannel underneath (I could see a bit of the fabric on the edge of his collar), blue jeans, white sneakers, his silver wristwatch, his hair neatly combed and freshly shaved, was also carrying a black, luxurious wheeled suitcase in one hand and with the other, he was handling the keys to a vehicle.

It was shiny and floating farther in the waters. He swam towards it and what he saw made his heart sink so deep he could have drowned. Lying afloat and suspended was the pink sophisticated leatherwear super suit outfit that belonged to Carol. It was charred at the arms and legs as well as the chest area where the pink lightning bolt emblem was still in place and not a single mark on it. Damon’s hands began to tremble when he held the costume. “No, no, NO!” His face was still wet and no one could tell if he was crying but veins had formed on his forehead which he then buried into the costume.

Carl confirmed, then he turned and looked at the car. One foot came out first, a patent leather white shoe with a white lace sock. Then the other. Willow watched, stunned. Moments later, she was fully out of the car, dressed in a blue frock with white lace around the collar that matched the lace on her shoes. Her dark, curly hair was done in loose pig tails, her cheeks pink and rosy. She stood, her hands folded in front of her, looking at all of us. Carl rushed to her side, took her little hand in his and held it as he faced us. A look of pride beamed on his face.

Kelvin asked curiously as he picked up his gun from the floor. “Yeah, there seem to be two of them. I chased the other one here; he must have run seeing his man down.” Carl replied, taking a deep breath. “Thanks for saving me.” Kelvin replied with a calm voice. Kelvin then bent down and opened up the face mask of the man lying dead on the floor; he opened it, staring not to recognize the face of the man. Kelvin then closed it back up. “Who the hell are these guys?” Carl asked with his eyes wide open.

We picked up our walk and crossed the street a ways down from the bus stop. Carl’s Automotive Shop had three full garage sections as well as a large lobby on the left-hand side. There was an upper deck that covered the whole back of the warehouse you couldn’t see into from the front. That’s where Carl lived. We got into the lobby where we opened the red lockers under the stairs and grabbed our official uniform shirts. Carl was leaning over the hood of a car with a flashlight shining down the side of the engine. I leaned over and looked at the area he was looking at.

That filthy woman was not even worthy to carry her heels. The man beside her must believe that she was a hundred times better than that filthy woman. … Meanwhile, a crimson red sports car sprinted towards the event venue. Inside the car was Carl wearing a black shirt with his medium-short hair tucked neatly behind his ears. The button around his chest was left undone, exposing his fair chest. He also had a red jacket to go with the black shirt. There was even a freshly plucked rose pinned to his collar. His already charming facial features were set off by the fiery red and elegant black combination. It was as though he was a living elf.

"Who's that?" Carl emerged from the shadows in a monochrome striped suit. Everyone was startled when he walked out coldly like the devil. The Walkers' bodyguards immediately greeted their boss in relief, while the Ithanian Mafia paled and exclaimed, "The high and mighty Mr. Walker actually pulled a sneak attack? Wasn't it too pathetic of him?" "Is that so?" Carl coldly chuckled as he looked at the Walkers' bodyguards on the ground. Many of them were knocked out, which was out of his expectations.