Prologue
The zombies were banging on their door hard.
Steve and his mother, Cassandra, cowered as the mobs punched mercilessly at the door, making banging sounds. Alex, who was in her crib, was crying and snuffling because of the noise.
Suddenly there was a flash of iron and all the zombies keeled over and crumbled into dust.
Steve's father, Storm, ripped through the horde of zombies like a shovel through dirt.
Other warriors joined in on the fight and beat at the zombie's bodies with their swords.
Suddenly a creeper crawled out of nowhere and exploded, blasting one warrior into oblivion.
Storm yelled, "No!" and slashed through even more mobs with desperation. Suddenly a creeper came out of nowhere, right behind him.
"Dad!" Steve screamed.
The creeper exploded, blasting bits of dirt and stone everywhere.
And lying injured on the street was his father.
He looked up and smiled at Steve weakly before he crumbled into dust until the only thing left of him was the contents of his inventory.
"Dad! Dad!" screamed Steve. Suddenly the zombies blasted through the door, groaning and moaning. Cassandra stood up and tried to beat them back with a hoe, but they easily beat her into the ground. Cassandra groaned and looked into Steve's eyes. "Promise me you will do everything you can to protect your sister. Please." she said.
Before Steve could say anything, she crumbled into dust in front of his eyes. "No. No. Mom. No, please."
He cried in pain as one of the zombies struck him. The monster stepped forward, grinning madly.
Suddenly the zombie stopped with a look of shock. He fell forwards onto his face and crumbled into dust. The other zombies backed up, groaning in shock.
They were looking fearfully around for their assassin. Suddenly one of the zombie's expressions froze in shock. He observed the stone blade sticking out of his chest and crumbled into dust. The other zombies backed up, alarmed as a figure rose out of the darkness.
He moved with shocking speed and agility, stabbing and swinging his stone sword wildly. Suddenly his sword snapped in half and he swore.
The last remaining zombie, sensing victory, charged forward.
He never lived long enough to realize what a mistake he had made.
The zombie was kicked backwards onto his back and started to groan but was cut off as the mysterious figure stepped on his face and grinded his shoe painfully into the zombies face. As the mob slowly dissolved, the figure turned around. He held out his hand. Steve took it and the figure pulled him up.
"You ok?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm ok." Steve paused. "Who are you?" The figure took a long time to respond.
"Jesse. I'm Jesse." he said.
"Can you teach me how to fight like that?" Steve said. Jesse squinted his eyes at him. "Could," he said thoughtfully. "But aren't you a little young?"
"Young!" Steve said indignantly. "Listen, mister. I need to learn to fight if I want to protect my sister. I have to! It was my mother's dying wish!" he choked on the last word. Steve regained his stature and said, "Plus, I'm not that young! I'm eleven!"
"Hmm," Jesse said. "Sure, why not?" he said finally.
"Awesome!" Steve said enthusiastically. "When do we start?" Jesse scratched his head. "We'll figure that out later. Let's go to my place for the night. It's well protected. You probably shouldn't sleep here. I mean, this house is just begging to be attacked!" Jesse replied.
"Great!" Steve said. "I'll go pack!" he ran downstairs.
Those mobs are going to be sorry they messed with me soon. Steve thought.
And done!
This is a new experience for me, since I like to write stories.
I wrote this story at the age of eleven, and didn't really remember writing it until I came across a copy of this story on my ancient computer.
Any type of criticism is appreciated.