Gray looked up into the clouds, thinking to himself about how much he hated the overcast, it left the world in a grey murk of gloomy disaster. The flowers on the side of his house no longer glowed the red and yellow they used to, and the glint of the sun into his eyes from the glasses on the house no longer made the world seem too bright, just more hazy.
He stood up, wondering what would wait for him on the inside of his house. His expectations failed to meet reality. He looked at the dark grey kitchen, the mustiness of it all.
His parents had died a little more than a week before. They had both been attacked by skeletons in the night. Not expecting to see white figures jump out of a pitch black forest, the two adults had been slaughtered viciously, leaving their 15 year-old boy, Gray, to fend for himself.
Life was tough without his parents, he had stopped tending to the farm animals, as well as many other parts of his former life. He, instead, killed the farm animals on the first day of being alone, preferring to cook and eat them rather than keep them alive. The farm he lived on was slow deteriorating from misuse as Gray did not know much about farming melons, and drought was killing the grains. The house was ready to fall apart, his parents had left him the night before their "cleaning" day. The house was filled with rotting food, the timber had mold on it, the water spring where they got their water from had dried up.
Gray walked in and immediately decided it was time for him to find his own way, the wall of the house was leaning inward, he could see the cross beams behind it. He didn't want somebody to come in and destroy all of his things, so he decided that he would wait for night, that way a creeper could come and wash away all of the bad things in his life, preventing the good things from being found or used again.