Chapter 2

Steve was unable to move, frozen with fear. It was too late to run or even attempt to fight back. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact of the inevitable explosion, but it never came. Any second now, he thought. It'll be over soon. He stood there for what seemed like an hour, nervous and yet curious as to why he and his house hadn't been blown to shreds. Maybe it wasn't a creeper after all?

Any thoughts of doubt quickly vanished from his mind when he cautiously opened one eye; there was indeed something standing right in front of him. Lightning clashed in the sky, briefly allowing him to catch a glimpse of his formidable green opponent in a better light.

Sure enough, the hauntingly mournful face stared back at him, completely devoid of any emotion… and yet not a single hiss or an explosion was heard.

Exactly what was going on here?

He swallowed a lump in his throat and meekly took a step back. Was this some sort of cruel joke? Was the creeper merely toying with his soon-to-be prey by appearing passive? Did creepers even possess that sort of humor? His mind whirled with confusion as he struggled to make sense of his current dilemma.

Now is your chance, he told himself. Just draw your sword and kill it. No big deal. You've done this before. Keeping his eyes on the creeper, he slowly reached for the iron sword at his side, preparing to make the first move.

And then it spoke.

"Help me…"

"AGH!" Steve yelped and fell backward. Now he knew he was hallucinating. Creepers did many things, but they did not speak.

This fact was proven wrong when the creeper looked down at his shocked form on the floor and spoke again. "Please… help me…"

"Y-you… you j-just…" He stumbled greatly over his words. "Th-there's no way…" His voice trailed off, and all he could do was gaze upward at the creeper with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

Get up, get up! Do something! Anything! His mind screamed at him to stand and defend himself, but his legs seemed to have given up on him at the moment. This can't be happening. Creepers don't talk.

"I promise… I won't hurt you…"

He shut his eyes, refusing to believe what was right in front of him. Creepers don't talk, creepers don't talk, creepers don't talk…

"I'm…different…"

He opened his eyes.

There was such sorrow in the tiny voice that it was impossible not to hear it. Those two words seemed to hold a silent plea, a cry for help. But how could something like that come from something like… well, a monster? It was a creeper, for goodness sake! He glanced upward at it, conflicting feelings of curiosity and wariness tugging at him.

He noticed that the creeper was trembling (seemingly from the chilled, rainy weather), which made him wonder how long it had been standing out there. Crystal droplets of water dripped from its shivering body, telling him that it must have been out in the rain for quite a long time. Not only that, but there was a strange, bleeding gash on the right side of its face; it looked like a fresh wound. He almost felt pity for the poor creature, but then his natural instincts took over. Be careful, he reminded himself. A creeper is still a creeper, no matter how vulnerable it may look.

While keeping a close eye on it, he rose with caution and cleared his throat. "Um… come in, I guess." He gestured to the fireplace. "You can warm yourself over there."

The creeper appeared as if it might begin to cry. "Th-thank you," it stammered gratefully.

Steve watched as it wobbled over to the fire and huddled close to it. He hoped it wasn't a bad idea to let it in his house, considering all the memories he had of past creepers invading his territory and completely obliterating it - and himself - with one blow. But there was something about this creeper that was different - besides the fact that it could speak, of course. There was something at the back of Steve's mind that told him to trust this visitor of his; he wasn't sure whether or not to follow that little voice in his head, but he reckoned it couldn't hurt to play along while keeping a safe distance. Besides, what was the creeper going to be able to do with that great of an injury?

He returned to his chair and motioned to the one opposite to him. "Sit down."

His weary guest gladly obliged, sinking into the wool cushion with a small hiss of contentment. Steve smiled in spite of himself; it seemed that humans weren't the only creatures that enjoyed the restful luxury of chairs.

It was a strange thing, to have built a house to keep the monsters out of his perimeter… and then willingly invite one in to that same house. Oh, the irony.

A few moments passed by before he broke the silence. "So… you can speak."

The creeper cocked its head to one side, perplexed at this statement. "Yes. Does that surprise you?"

"Of course it does!" Steve exclaimed in disbelief. "I mean, you're the first voice I've heard for years. And, well, you're a creeper."

"Yes."

"I've never known a creeper to speak."

"We normally don't converse in the human tongue, but I highly doubt you would understand what I have to say if I were to say it in our native language."

Got that right. Steve contemplated his next question. There were so many things he wanted to know that it made his head spin. Why did it decide to speak to him now? And why wasn't it attacking him? Nothing made sense anymore. He bit his lip in deep thought.

The creeper sensed his bewilderment. "I know how much my coming here must have upset you, but you're the only one I can turn to, human. There isn't much time."

Steve snapped back to reality. "Time until what?"

The creeper avoided his intent gaze and instead focused its attention on the fireplace, watching the flames dance and crackle behind the glass. "You… I… the world… we're all in danger - grave danger."

Grave danger? Steve's heart skipped a beat at hearing those ominous words. "What do you mean, grave danger?"

The light from the fire flickered across the creeper's face, giving it an eerie glow. "There is great evil afoot, far beneath the crust of the earth… where the dark things lie. The wicked shall rise up and overthrow the fair. The world is doomed to die."

"Doomed to die?" Steve repeated faintly. "How do you know all of this?"

"There are Higher Beings of this world, greater than you and I. They have given me a sign - an ill-omened message from nature's skies. Haven't you noticed? Stormy weather, dried crops, malnourished animals… and the stars themselves are dimming."

"And that points to the death of the world… how?"

The creeper's empty eyes were suddenly filled with sadness. "You do not believe me." He looked back at Steve desperately. "You must trust that what I have said is true! I have no reason to lie."

Steve gave a long, thoughtful sigh, taking in what had been said to him. "Okay," he said slowly. "Let's say I do believe you're telling the truth. How do I know for sure?"

A slight, yet heavy pause hung in the air. "I think I would have to start from the very beginning - my beginning, to be exact."

Steve leaned back in the chair, sensing a long story was in store. "Go ahead, then. I'm listening."

The creeper inhaled and began his tale.