I don't play Minecraft; my sister does. We were talking and I rambled about an idea that developed in my head as she spoke of all things Minecraft. She started crying and asked me to write this.

Comments and constructive criticism are very much appreciated!


In a villager's home, Steve looked down at his borrowed bed and admired the supplies he had gathered. Enough food to last until the arrival at the next village and his mining tools on one side; weapons lay in a line, wiped clean from their previous venture.

Save for the stone sword.

It wasn't going to last much longer, but Steve found himself using that weapon less and less as time went on.

It reminded him of things that left him biting through his lip, to drown in the middle of the night.

Steve turned to the bag at his waist, pulling on its strings to see what stayed there. Ten emeralds shone in the scarce light that he was letting into the sack. It would have to be enough. Screams were coming in through the window and the smell of burning pork was permeating the air, accompanied by the loud booms that were making him bite the inside of his cheek. He took his time, lifting everything into his backpack that he would need and attaching his weapons and holsters onto the proper spots of his body. Steve sighed heavily.

'Off to a new place,' he mused with discontent. As he adjusted his pack, hoping that this time, the straps wouldn't rub his shoulders too much and give him blisters like last time.

He heard a horrible groaning outside and felt ice travel the length of his spine.

He heard his name with a hiss on the first letter.

"SsssssteeEeeve. "

He ran out of the house, his blood racing.

'Have to run! Have to get to the Dragon!'

One may wonder if Steve is in danger, being chased by a green, exploding being that dragged out its sounds like an angry chicken trying to protect its chicks. The short answer...

Ask Steve.

As he ran towards the woods, thick and thin in all of the wrong areas, Steve looked behind at the village for just a moment.

Fire was curling towards the sky, and he stared in awe and horror as he heard the screaming of villagers and smelt the strong odor of pork again. It was a familiar scent to him, despite his horror, and he tried to ignore it as he continued to run, trying to avoid tripping over rocks and shrubbery.

It was the scent of burning human flesh, forever chasing him.

He heard explosions occurring behind him, in the same tune that the monster, that mockery of a savior - 'Damn him!' - would try and say his name through the creatures he commanded.

'I have to run!'

He could hear the wolves behind him, howling for his blood. And he heard the cries of the villagers, their flesh burning like pork and being devoured raw or smoking by the beasts that chased him.

'Damn you, Herobrine!'

The light of fire faded behind him as he lost himself in the woods, the coolness of the leaves soothing his tight-feeling skin.