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Mine, Craft, Farm

04 Jun

As I stared through my tall observation tower and faced the north, I tilted my head to one side.  It felt strange, that I was planning to go out with only a few spare tools and a wooden sword, rather than dozens of torches, tools, and whatever else I could carry.  I glanced back at the glass-surrounded room I built with my own hands.  I was proud, but I wanted to do more.  I wanted to throw danger to the winds, even with my unarmored body and my lone sword.

My home– no, my castle– was incredible.  I had this room– my observation tower.  I had a master bedroom, a guest room, a reception hall, a crafting room with everything included, an underground farm, a second level with beasts, and all the defenses a lowly farmer could create using stone, wood, glass, and some help from my friends.

Slowly, I climbed down the dark ladder, into my master bedroom.  It was sparse, with a king-sized bed, an image of the Enderman who fell in love with me, and a few torches.  The walls, floor, and ceiling were all cobblestone, and the door was wooden.  It was mine, though.  I left and looked through each of my rooms.  They were bare, and they were all cobblestone, but they were mine, and they served their purpose well.

I took a deep breath and finally pressed the button, then ran like an idiot out of my home– the button was tricky, and sometimes took multiple tries to open the door if I couldn’t run fast enough, but those two iron doors that led outside were my best defense against zombies and other creeps.

It was a late start already, but I swam through my moat, toward the sandy beach not far away.

At some point, some idiot planted a lot of cacti about.  I wove through them and crossed a strip of grassland to arrive at the desert.  Thankful that none of my friends were around to watch me get murdered, I set out in search of riches, glory, or even a new opportunity.  To me, the world seemed so small, and I needed to expand it.  I ran and ran, until night fell, and I began to feel endangered as the native monsters revealed themselves as they hungrily approached me.

Quickly, I dug down.  Three meters, and I looked up.  The monsters stopped caring about me, or at least didn’t approach my little hole.  For now, I was safe.

My night passed without rest, and come morning, I dug myself out and darted off, eager to see if there was anywhere I could go that was new.  I finally left the desert and found mountains, sheep, and hills.  I kept going, and became lost.  That was alright, though.  I was without my valuables, save a ton of sand, for use in avoiding traps and pitfalls.

I continued running until I came to… the ocean.  Surely, in two days, I hadn’t crossed ALL there was!  I turned and began to run again, following the coast, desperately looking inland for something interesting.  I didn’t want to be trapped in one place!

Foolishly, I kept running through the night.  I earned an intense hunger, and more than a few arrows.  Still, I dragged my tired body forward.

My stomach hurt fiercely, and as night fell again, I looked for a place to dig.  I was surrounded by stone, and my pickaxe was long since broken.  I began to laugh at myself.  I was lost.  I was starving, and all I had was stacks of various crap.  I hugged myself and ran forward.

I tripped.  I nearly fell of a cliff.  Below, I saw lights.  A village!   I looked around and began to carefully climb lower.

Ssssss!

No.  Not that.

Anything but that.  I couldn’t survive that.  I slowly turned to look back.  Was it my imagination?  Before my head could turn enough to look, an explosion met my eyes.  First, I felt nothing but pressure.

The pressure quickly gave way to agony.  I watched lower body twitch in front of me as I laid on the hard stone ground.  I was skin and bones– gaunt, and now minus most of my organs. I felt my fingers and hands twitch, and  I tried to crawl forward.  I bit at the thin layer of sand, and its grit invaded my mouth.  I was drooling.

I forced myself to breathe.  I wasn’t going to survive this creeper explosion, but that didn’t mean that going quickly was an option, either.

Something cracked into my head.  I tried to look back, but it held me in place and smacked me again.  Growls and chittering and clattering came from everywhere as I gasped.  Soon, I only heard the sounds of my own ragged gasps, desperate gulps at air, and felt only the cracking of something hard and sharp hitting my head.  My vision faded.

Suddenly, everything in my mind went wrong.  I bit the stone underneath me and my body jerked about as I screamed and saw horrible and pleasant images, felt horrible and pleasant smells, and more.  All at once, these stimuli drove at my consciousness in a pureed mix of emotion and sensation, until suddenly I jerked up from my bed, gasping.  I covered my mouth, then darted to a nearby potted plant and vomited into the poor jungle sapling.

For a long time, I remained there, huddled around that unfortunate potted plant.  I sobbed and whimpered for what felt like hours until I heard someone enter my house.  Hurriedly, I cleaned up and rushed to meet them.

It was Miv, the one responsible for the various devices throughout my home. “Miv!” I grinned. “What’s up?” I forced myself to cheer as he explained that he wanted to investigate the giant hole under my house that he made a while back.  As he walked past me, he chuckled. “So, how’d the exploration go?”

“Eh, I died.”

“Ah.  That stinks.  I heard you got lost.”

“Well, not lost anymore.” For some reason, I laughed at the terrible joke.  Death was a terrible, terrible joke here.

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