Steve opened his eyes. Where am I? he wondered. He looked around. He was on a beach, with a forest to his back and some distant specks on the horizon, probably islands in this vast ocean. Suddenly, as if he had done this before, Steve started moving towards a tree. He didn't know why, but ripping that tree apart not only sounded plausible; it seemed necessary, as dumb as that sounded. Won't this hurt! He demanded to himself as he started to tear at the tree. Sure enough, a few minutes later his hands were bloody and bruised, but also holding some logs. Again, he felt an inexplicable urge to rip the logs apart. That was an easier task than ripping apart the tree, and he soon had several planks in his hand. Steve felt like he knew how to do this. He just had to remember how, piece by piece. Soon after, he stood in front of a crafting table. Wait a minute! How did he know what that…..crafting table was called? Steve looked up in disbelief, and noticed the sun was directly above him. A spasm of fear ran through him. Somehow, he knew the going down was a bad thing. He was working feverishly now, sometimes remembering how to do that, sometimes having now idea whatsoever. By the time the sun went down, he had a rude shelter made of wooden planks. Just in time, he realized as the light went out. Grabbing a wooden pickaxe he had just made (how did he know these names?), Steve descended into the depths.
THE NEXT DAY
Steve climbed back up the ladder. All he had for a night's work was some crushed stone. Cobblestone, he realized a second later. Oh well. A growl arose from his stomach. Animals. Right. The sun wasn't quite up yet, and it wasn't bright out yet, but what difference did it make? He could still see, and that was the important thing. He walked out of the door and came face to face with...a hellish version of himself. Zombie, he recognized as he buried his pickaxe into the beast. The zombie reeled back, but wrenched the pickaxe out of his hands. Defenseless, Steve ran back to his hut. Damn it! He only had one stick! He glanced back. The zombie was getting closer. He looked back. What the hell...? A WOODEN SWORD! Thank goodness for accidents! Renewed energy filled him as he rushed the zombie. Four hits, and it was over. The adrenelin from the fight had already worn off, and Steve fell to his knees. He was so hungry...he felt like he was about to die. Steve glanced around for hope, anything. He saw the rotting flesh the zombie had left behind. Yech...he'd probably just die quicker if he ate that. Suddenly, he saw salvation: a herd of six cows. He charged into their midst, driven to a frenzy by hunger. He felt his wooden sword break, but he went on, punching them. Only then he realized how pathetic he looked. Steve surveyed the carnage in front of him. All the cows lay in pools of blood. Leather and raw, bloody beef lay all around. He greedily devoured a chunk of beef. His hunger temporarily stifled. Steve began to collect the leather and beef lying on the ground and headed home.
A FEW FRUITLESS HOURS LATER...
Steve just stared at the crafting table. He had spent several hours already trying to make a device to cook his beef, but all he could remember was it was made of cobblestone. Suddenly, his brain snapped. That was it! Not just a furnace, but stone tools! leather armor!
SIX HOURS LATER
It was getting dark again. Steve looked up with a new confidence as he felt the weight of the leather armor on his body, and the grip he had on his stone sword. He was planning to go out and take those zombies head on, but first he reached into his furnace and pulled out the steak he had been cooking. Only then did he realize he had no table to eat at, nor seat to sit at. Oh well...it didn't change much. He ate his steak leaning against the wall, and soon enough he stepped outside. He stood near his house for a few minutes, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. The first thing he noticed was the lack of zombies. Then he noticed the creatureseemingly made out of bones standing there. Something whizzed past his head. ARROW! his mind screamed as he sprinted toward the skeleton, (or so his brain told him) and hit it. It flew back and over...a cliff. A few minutes of carefull sliding later, Steve came up to the broken body of the skeleton. He first retrieved some of the bones and arrows that were still in one piece. Then he examined the weapon the skeleton held. It hit him: it was a bow! He glanced at a couple of nearby spiders, and smiled. A few minutes of hunting later, Steve came back to his house, holding some string in his hand. A bow! Long range! Steve was so happy, he didn't notice the cold, lifeless eyes watching him from above.
Yes, that was a Herobrine mentioning. Either way,
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