Light a fire and let it burn. Burn everything away, our tears and laughs, until all that is left is a retorted pile of bones and burnt flesh.
So many mobs and Players…becoming a single distorted entity, dancing their eyes away.
Here, there, some become smoke, some become water and lava, breaking each other, destroying everything and leaving obsidian behind. Is that their souls? No. Their souls are dirt blocks.
One arm here, one leg there, moving, contorting, crawling in the ground. Screams, cries, pleas to the sky…it happens that even the Gods can dance and so, no one will answer and no dreams will come true.
Just eat your hope, hungry kid.
Lick it; take off little bits, letting the bitter flavor take everything until it becomes a little mess of white, green and black.
Those are the colors of depravation, putrefaction and…I am sorry, there is no poetry to you. Black is the color of that disgusting little alley in the town, where these kids are given away by that horrible creeper.
It is time for the perverted, the corrupted and the happy to party! Come on, let's have fun! Everyone is invited! This night is not a night for kids…except our especial guests! Come on, little enderman! Show us what your master taught you all!
It laughs, gets a bucket with water and sticks its hands in, screaming purposefully, letting its pain be mixed with the crowd's excitement. Getting on top of a table, calling people and splashing water…Someone will get there too and our party will move on!
A sword happens and a Player falls dead. A love quarrel, maybe. Whatever! We will forget this by the time sun comes up! Drink this world away! Water, milk…poison. Death is forgettable too, as long as you can enjoy your final day with us.
Little kids quickly make it disappear, eating it all, even the bones. Some of these bones are used as weapons, others are put in terrible hands and, upside down, venture into their insides, in a way or the other.
Clapping their hands whenever someone falls unconscious, singing disgusting songs, forgetting themselves.
There aren't Players, There aren't mobs. Just the "us" that live and live, without caring about others. Wasting tears and blood in fun, just like vermin in the ground. Isn't that amazing too?
Forget the sun, all the light here is fire, through our clothes, through our flesh, muscles, organs, whatever! There is no soul down there, just a smiling face, full of teeth and blood. Their blood. The blood of all the dead ones, including yourself.
Come on! Don't be ashamed! Show yourself! Sing, cry, fall. There is no way you can fall once again once you reached this place. This is the place where your heart will agonize, happier than ever, twisting itself in pure joy, an immense pleasure. Follow it! It's a party, after all! A dead party for nasty beings!
One by one, the shield of the hours falls and the sun comes up.
Pure, golden light, across plains, forests and deserts. Across Them.
The twisted being dissolves, each not-mob and each not-Player walking around, as if drunk, taken away by the memories of the blackened fire and the sensation of waking up from a dream. A terrible, filthy dream that is all they wish to live, again and again, to their unworthy dying breath.
But it is gone. The fire was killed and so were them. Like shadows, they vanish, one by one, just as dirty now as before. They don't make a sound, blind to this world. It's just a silent choir.
Whatever, whatever, whatever... Welcome.
Now it is all gone, forgotten once again as the fire waits for the cold night and these terrible things, slaves of themselves, to dance their eyes away. A putrid routine, the spectacle of every day.
From ashes to ashes.