Long story short, I was tired. When I'm tired, I become philosophical. I was also watching minecraft videos. Then this happened.
I woke up in the midst of a strange place. It was awhile before the painful memories came flooding back to me. Now I'm in the middle of this apocalyptic world, trying to defend myself from the undead and creatures from an alien planet. No home, no family. It's just me here. Of course, the occasional villager will let me into their home and listen to my story. But soon enough I will have to be on my way again.
Tonight I found a village. A nice farmer let me into his home and traded with me. He didn't have any good deals but, then again, they never do.
"I thought all of the Players died out," he said to me.
"They did," I replied, "except for me."
"Please, sit down. Tell me your story."
I began, not even needing to think about the words that have rolled off my tongue countless times.
"It was like any other day," I started. "My father was teaching me how to mine oars. I had been practicing on some old cobblestone and a used wooden pickaxe. That day, he crafted me a stone pickaxe. My first new pickaxe. We worked all day and I was just starting to get the grip just right when it was time for supper. The sun had started to set, and it was almost night time. Then I heard a strange moaning sound…"
"Dad?" Steve asked, looking up at his father's concerned face. "What was that?"
"I'm not quite sure," Robert replied. His eyes scanned the ever growing darkness. Then he saw it.
"Rose!" He called. "Get the kids inside!"
Steve looked on in horror at the creature. His tattered clothes and green skin struck terror into the boy's heart. He saw his father pull out a stone sword. They were poor farmers and couldn't afford much more than one stone sword.
"Steve!" His mother, Rose, called.
Steve couldn't move. He was paralyzed with fear. He jumped as he felt something grab his arm. He instantly tried to calm his racing heartbeat. It was only his mother. She dragged him inside and locked the door. Then a blood-curdling scream was heard. His father's scream.
"Steve, get Ella," His mother whispered, a tear rolling down her face. "I'm going to try to get your father's sword."
Steve could do nothing but nod, too fear-stricken to speak. His 4-year-old sister was huddled in the corner, crying at the sound of zombies banging on the door. All of a sudden there was a loud explosion that burst through the wall. Seeing nothing else he could do, Steve scooped up his sister and raced through the hole, not looking back as he ran away from his house, his dead parents, the life he once knew.
It was becoming hard to run. Steve knew his sister was slowing him down, but there was no way he would leave her behind or make her run on her own.
Steve barely noticed where he was going. The objects in front of him were blurred with tears and the darkness. He was cold, hungry, and tired. He was just about to give up when he ran into something scaly. In the darkness, he could just make out a green color before it exploded, sending him and his sister flying.
"Ella!" Despite the pain, Steve rushed over to his sister's motionless body. He was about to cry and mourn her when he saw her chest rising and falling. Ella was alive, just unconscious.
Steve picked up his sister and rushed to find a place to hide. "Come on Ella, stay with me," he mumbled. He found the side of a mountain and dug a hole large enough to accommodate him and his sister. He climbed inside before filling up the entrance. At this point, Steve allowed himself to cry.
His whole body hurt, his parents were dead, his house was destroyed. He had no home, no food.
With these thoughts rushing through his mind, Steve finally succumbed to sleep.
When he woke up, his sister's body was cold in his arms. She had died in the night. Steve was numb as he dug her a shallow grave and gave her a small headstone. His life had turned upside-down. What now?
Steve stood at the foot of his sister's grave, contemplating his decision. He would start a new life, become a traveler. He would live by his own rules. He would mine to make a living. Maybe he would find survivors. One thing was for certain, though.
He would never become attached to anything ever again. He would start right now, by turning away from his sister's grave, not shedding a single tear.