Hello, everyone, and happy Halloween at the date of this being posted! As proof of me not being dead, here's a new horror/survival themed story (Never mind that it's the last day for the season.) Either way, hope you enjoy - for now, here's the obligatory legal stuff.

I, the author of this story, have no claim to Minecraft, the assets and gameplay of Minecraft, or the several mods for Minecraft that may be included in the story. Minecraft is (as of this writing) the property of Microsoft Co., developed originally by Mojang.

Prologue - Taking Inventory

I'd woken on a beach, sun shining at what looked to be mid-afternoon. The air was salty with ocean water, with a slight tinge of aged wood, and as it brushed upon my face with utmost care, I was reluctant to wake. Thoughts of my crewmates danced in my mind, and aside from a bitter taste in my mouth, everything felt right in the world.

Then the memories of last night came clawing back to me; How the ocean wind had suddenly picked up, moving the waves into chaos with its reverberating howls. Seeing the mast, struck by lightning, crushing a fisherman while smoldering sails held another in their painful embrace. Rushing to the lower deck to alert my comrades, only for the hulls to betray us and invite the waters in.

I quickly decided to rouse myself soon after that, wanting nothing more than for the visions to end. Looking down at myself, shifting the torn fabric of my cyan undershirt and denim work jeans - my coat might as well be lost to the sea with how ragged it was - I'd found several scrapes, cuts, and bruises among my arms. Worst of all, though, was a chunk of torn wood jutting out of my lower leg, two fingers wide and long as my index. Right, that'd be the first issue.

I'd been trained in a bit of all fields: First Aid, basic woodworking, and even some knowledge of safe foods were all part of my skillset. This master-of-none approach would last me long enough to survive until a rescue team would find me, And they certainly will, eventually. I'd just have to make do until then. Saving my own life would certainly be doable, so I tore off what was left of my coat and focused on the task.

I'd have to remove the offending object, first and foremost, and I dreaded the task as even a testing caress of the crude wooden spike sent waves of agony upwards. It had to be done, though, or I'd definitely bleed out on the shore. I grit my teeth, grasped the wooden shank, and dear god it hurt like hell but I yanked the offending shard out and bunched the fabric of my coat against the wound. Luckily, some frayed rope from the ship wreckage was lying nearby, so using that along with the wooden spike, I managed to make a shoddy torniquet - It'd probably fall apart sooner rather than later, though it served its purpose well enough.

Trying to stand, or at the least kneel, was a poorly planned move; The pain shooting up my leg made sure that the best I could do to move was to drag myself along at short intervals. It took a large chunk of the day to make it to a larger section of wreckage, but there were rations and disinfectants that I couldn't possibly pass up. My torniquet had indeed fallen apart by then, but I was quickly able to replace it with some treated (if still soggy) bandage, and finally give my tattered coat the burial at sea it deserved.

My plan from here was to stay in the more stable parts of the wreckage, waiting for rescue. There'd probably be enough supplies to keep me alive until then - that was the comfort I held in my mind as sleep overcame me.

Of course, that idea would change soon enough.