Don't ask me why I chose to write about Minesweeper. Even I'm not entirely sure. Anyway, this is my first ever fic, so expect iffiness. Review if you feel compelled to do so- I'd be pleasantly surprised if anyone likes this story. Oh yes, and I don't own Minesweeper- Microsoft does, although that goes without saying.

Sweepaholic- by Fractal Monkey

Hi, my name's Brian, and I'm a sweepaholic.

Well, that's what they call people like me. People who are addicted to that game. You know the one- with the grid and the numbers, the only sounds being the clicking of the mouse, and the occasional shout of delight or frustration from the player. I can clear the Expert board in 68 seconds, you know. Pretty impressive for someone who's only been playing a year, don't you think?

It hasn't always been like this. I remember the first time I ever played. My computer's CD drive had stopped working, so I couldn't play most of the games. A bit of aimless browsing led me to four games, games which I'd overlooked until then. I had nothing better to do, so I tried them out. Freecell was first, but I could never grasp that. Hearts was fun for a while, but I quickly tired of it. Solitaire- I knew that game well, so there was no need to play it here. The final title led me to a small grid of blank squares, overseen by a yellow smiling face, flanked by two number displays. A quick scan of the help file, and I knew what to do. I made my first tentative clicks, and thus my first steps, into the world known as Minesweeper.

That first game took me nearly a minute, but I was rewarded with the smiley face donning sunglasses. I had become the master of the beginner level. So I tried the next stage up, and was confronted with a much larger board, and four times the number of mines. Undaunted, I set off once more. It was then that I tasted defeat for the first time. Halfway through the board, I saw red, and the smiley face ensured I knew about it, contorting its features into those of a dead man, or as close as a yellow smiley could get to one. I tried again, determined to succeed. When I did, that feeling of satisfaction entered me again. It was only then that I realised I had been playing for over an hour. Foolishly, I thought nothing of it, and continued playing well into the night.

This pattern continued for weeks, then months. I often went two or three days without sleeping, ever in pursuit of faster times and quicker boards. When I finally did get some sleep, my dreams were haunted by endless fields of grey squares, littered with numbers. The blue ones and the green twos were commonplace, and I frequently saw red threes and deep indigo fours. The dreams would get worse, with higher numbers making themselves known, numbers that didn't even make sense- sixes in the middle of nowhere, miles from any mines, and twos that were completely mine-ridden. In one particularly horrible nightmare, I even saw a figure nine, coloured a hideous orange, rising up to mock me. The smiley face, too, would mock me, saying nothing to me no matter how much I questioned it, giving only that smile, the smile that drove me to succeed, the smile that had taken over my life.

I don't leave the house anymore. I only stop playing to eat, and occasionally to sleep. Only when I absolutely need to, of course. I found a way to play it online as well. I've seen the times some people out there have achieved. Spectacular times, times that I never thought possible until I saw them done with my own eyes. These people spur me on. I can beat them. No, I will beat them. I'll get the fastest times the world has ever seen, then they'll see. They'll know me. They'll speak my name in awe. They'll see me as a god. One day, I will be a sweeping god, immortalised in the online Hall of Fame.

Yes, I'm a sweepaholic- and proud of it.