Rated: PG-13
Language: English
Categories: Humour/Adventure
Title: A Day in the Life of a Terrarian
Summary: What happens when we die? Do we float in nothingness for eternity, or are we reborn to a new life? Are we sent to paradise, or to the underworld to atone for our sins, or some world in-between to atone for our wrongdoings? I don't know the answer, but if the guide opens the door for one more Slime, he's going to find out quite quickly.
Author's Note: I still hate myself for this.

A Day in the Life of a Terrarian

Night 1
OH MY GOD WHY DID ANDREW NOT THINK IT PERTINENT TO WARN ME THAT ZOMBIES AND DEMONIC EYEBALLS COME OUT AT NIGHT?! I could have been a bit more understanding of his nervousness if I had known what the rush was in building the house. I think he would find me to be quite agreeable when it comes to not being eaten alive.

I was, thankfully, able to erect a basic space for us before the area was completely overrun with Zombies, and I must thank God that those eyes don't seem to have any true intelligence; they seem to just fly aimlessly and bounce off of anything in their path. The shack is rudimentary but it should suffice until morning, when we can make more agreeable alterations.

When the morning began, I had my doubts about my strange new companion's ability to make good on his promise that he would be able to assist me in..whatever my purpose for being here is. During the course of the day, however, he proved to be an invaluable source of knowledge and information; I found myself relying on his commentary to discover what materials I could use to make various things. He's even informed me that, with the proper items in place, I may be able to dabble in alchemy.

My opinion of this man changed drastically after he let in the first Zombie of the night.

I have not as of yet decided whether Andrew is suicidal, in league with the creatures of the night, or simply too anxious to help. When I roused the matter of why he felt pressed to allow the very creatures we had built this humble abode so quickly to avoid to enter, his explanation was a simply stated, "I thought someone was knocking to beg for sanctuary."

I was both terrified and immensely annoyed the first three times he did it. The Zombies were easily enough dispatched of by a few dozen pickaxe strikes to the face, but the prospect of doing it all over again for a fifth time was less than appealing.

By the seventh Zombie, I was sorely tempted to block him off into the mine I have started behind the shack.

Andrew now sits at the table staring idly at the wall as I stare at the door, pickaxe clutched firmly in one hand. As we anxiously await daylight, I find myself puzzled by the man across from me.

My self-professed guide seems intelligent enough, but it seems to me that he is missing that all-important sense of self-preservation. Each time a Zombie knocks on the door, he springs up to answer. The look of disappointment that crawls onto his face, just moments before the look of sheer terror, when he sees yet another Zombie reaching out for him strikes me as peculiar.

Is it possible that some great calamity has happened and Andrew is waiting for the return of a lover, assumed dead? Does he have friends who were taken by the creatures outside - perhaps devoured and never to be seen again who he is unable to let rest? Or per chance a relative who was meant to meet him in this location when he came upon me? His willingness to be of assistance brings to mind a child-like innocence and eagerness to please that is altogether more or less uncommon for a man his age.

Or at least, the age that I suspect he may be. I have never been overly skilled in accurately discerning the age of others around me.

Not that I can remember my own age, of course.

Either way, perhaps I am simply reading too much into the situation or it could be that I have already begun to bore of the circumstances set before me in which my only companion is potentially a simpleton who is a handful of seeds short of a garden. I have determined that I will need to keep an eye on Andrew no matter the reason for his nonsensical actions; although he is something of a nuisance to me at the moment, the prevailing suspicion in my mind is that there could be more to him, and indeed the strange, and sometimes terrifying, new world I awoke in than meets the eye.

A peek outside informs me that the Zombies and Demon Eyes are retreating with the coming rays of morning's first light. Now that the threat of Andrew opening the door for them has lessened significantly, I believe it is a good idea to finally get some sleep before resuming work on the mine and beginning the necessary adjustments to our humble temporary abode. It has been a horrifically long and strenuous day, and my body is weary.
-Gambrien
To Be Continued...