DISCLAIMER: Minecraft does not belong to me. Inspiration for this story is from a Minecraft Parody song on YouTube.
In the forest, beneath the dark oak trees, sat a young man surrounded by hastily-built barricades. It was dark, the area only lit up by a mere lone torch in front of the boy, a small spot of light in the gaping blackness of the woods. From the darkness came the groans and rattles of the undead; zombies and skeletons waking up from their daily slumber. The sounds meant the boy's doom was approaching, a fact he knew, by the reaction that could be seen if someone were watching- a stiffening of the muscles and a wide-eyed look around. And as the boy looked around, he thought back upon his life. He thought upon what had brought him to this moment.
He had grown up in a poor household with little money. His older brother, Steve, was a miner, and was gone for days at a time trying to find the precious ores needed for the household to survive. His father, Notch, and his father's best friend, Jeb, were inventors, and spent their time showing off their contraptions to the village and selling them for gold and emeralds to keep afloat. The boy wanted to help like his brother did, but they kept saying he was too young. It was a fact he refused to accept, and eventually, they finally gave in when the boy was 15.
He got his own iron helmet and stone pickaxe, following his brother's footsteps in mining. He didn't understand the dangers involved, didn't realize how many times his brother saved him and how many times he got lucky. The boy's confidence grew, and finally, he set out to mine alone. The family watched as he left, hoping he would return safely. Sadly, this wasn't going to happen.
The boy had romped too far from home in his search for the perfect spot, the sun high in the sky past noon by the time he settled into a spot and started digging. Stone and dirt blocks fell from the walls as he dug them down, collecting in his storage bag for later use. The time flew by, until it was so dark the boy could barely see. This was when he emerged from his new mine, and looked at the sun setting in the sky.
His eyes had widened, and his feet had begun carrying him away from his mine back towards home, until he realized this action was futile. The boy knew he couldn't run forever. So he used the dirt and stone he had gathered in the mine, and knocked down nearby trees for creating a barricade around him. Three blocks high the boy built the barricade, until he ran out of supplies. Then he used the last of his wood to craft a torch with the singular piece of coal he had gotten while mining. The rattles and groans in the forest so close by told the boy all he needed to know- his shelter wasn't enough.
So the boy sat by his lone torch, writing in the journal he had been given during his first mining trip, recording his end. His pickaxe lay broken beside him, unable to be used, and looking at it, the boy was taken hold of by a sudden fit of desperation. He began punching the ground, trying to dig a tunnel to escape, but the ground underfoot was too hard. But he kept digging until his hands bled, hearing the walls of his barricades be struck by zombie-bodies and skeleton arrows, until he could dig no more. All of his effort showed only one block of difference, and he lay exhausted on the ground next to his pack.
As the first wall of his barricade fell, the boy reached over and took the photo of his family from his pack. As the groans and moans of zombies grew louder, he gazed upon the faces of his loved ones and felt guilt at the fact that he hadn't listened to their warnings. This was the end for him, and it was possible they would never know what had happened to him. The boy felt the crushing weight of guilt, knowing this could have been avoided were he not so stupid. He wished he could say goodbye…
