The House
A gentle breeze brushed across the salt kissed skin. The small waves pulled at the legs. A pungent smell of seaweed filled the nostrils and choked life back into a body. A man lifted himself to his knees, wondering where he was, or what happened. He looked into the sky and the sun's bright rays blinded him. "Aaah," he moaned, grasping his head; it ached with the confusion of waking up on a beach.
The man blinked hard and regained his focus. His surroundings were very tropical, that of a beach, and a forest. The man looked around for signs of any others; but there was nobody in sight. The man rose to his feet; still a bit wobbly, and stepped off the shore and to the forest.
The shade felt good on the man's leathery, salt water-soaked skin. He found a big tree and sat back against its trunk, he wondered how he got this beach; wherever 'this' beach was. Before long the man passed out from extreme exhaustion. When he awoke, the sun was ending its time in the sky and was setting behind the ocean's horizon. The temperature had dropped and it was surprisingly much cooler. In fact the man felt a bit chilly, he needed to build a fire.
The man wondered through the forest in search of something to chop wood with. Not long, he came upon an axe lying on the floor. He picked it up and began to chop the branches of a nearby tree. Strange sounds immediately crept into the nearby darkness. The man peered around the darkness, but saw nothing. He continued chopping wood, until, at last he had enough logs to keep a fire for the night.
The fire was warm and made the man feel a little better about his predicament. His wet clothes had dried and his body stopped shivering. Just then something brushed his back. It felt soft like silk, yet slimy. He leapt to his feet in fright. He grabbed his axe and held it tight. The man looked out into the black, but saw nothing. He grabbed a burning log and used it as a torch. And suddenly, floating in front of him was a large eyeball looking at him; its long tentacles waving back and forth in the air behind it. Just then the eyeball flew into him, knocking him backwards and into the fire.
The man was lucky enough that his roll out of the flames put the minor fires out. The monster circled around in the air and came flying back at the man. This time the man brought his axe back and chopped hard on the eye. Juices sprayed the night air and a loud pop echoed through the trees. And then, to the man's disbelief, more flying eyeballs fluttered out of the trees and into the dark sky. The creatures all circled the man and attacked relentlessly.
The man swung his axe in defense, but it was no use, there was too many. Instead, he ran for it. Between trees he dodged. Over large roots and under rock archways the man skipped and sprinted. And then, a small light appeared in the distance. It was a lamp, and the man's only hope for shelter. He ducked more attacks and repelled others with the swing of his axe and torch, until he finally made it to the lamp. Just a few feet away was small house. Normally, the man would never enter a person's house without permission; but this was a dire circumstance. So he forced open the door to the house and slammed it quickly behind him. He was safe, finally. He didn't know what those things were, but he knew one thing… they were bad news.
It wasn't long before the door opened, and the man's heart raced. 'Was it those monsters again?' No, in fact it was another man. "Hmm, this is an odd sight." the man said.
"I'm sorry, for breaking in. I'll leave…" the stranger started.
"Ah, so you're the reason those Demon Eyes are going blood thirsty out there." the owner of the house interrupted.
The stranger sighed a heavy sigh, "Like I said mate, sorry for the interruption. I'll be on my way."
"Nonsense," the owner said blocking the door, "that's just suicide. Why not stay the night, and in the morning you may leave?" he offered.
The stranger was taken back by the man's kindness. "I appreciated your hospitality sir." he said.
"Of course, it's not like I get allot of company out here." the owner replied. "My name is Joe, and this here is my crab-shack. I'm a fisherman by trait. But I see you gathered that already by my abundant amount of fish in here." Joe said. "What's your name?" he asked.
The stranger thought for a moment, he couldn't remember his name.
"Kid?" said Joe, putting his coat on the hanger.
"Oh, sorry… My name's John." he answered.
"So John, where do you hail from?" Joe inquired.
"I don't remember…" replied John.
"What happened to you then?" Joe asked.
"I can't remember that either." said John.
"Well, if you're going to survive Terraria, you'll need a house." Joe said. "I'd offer you my axe to start but it looks like you already found it."
John looked at the tool. "Keep it, you'll need it more than I." said Joe. "Get some rest, tomorrow morning you can begin building your house. I'll help of course."
John nodded, and then turned in for the night. The next morning Joe stuck to his word, and assisted John in chopping wood, turning the raw materials into lumber, and turning that lumber into walls. Soon John had a two-story cottage. It was quant, and more importantly safe. The two had taken roughly five days to construct John's house; all the meanwhile staying at Joe's shack.
"It's pretty empty in here I reckon." Joe spat.
"This is true." Muttered John.
Joe looked at John, "Lets make you some furniture." Joe said.