Tommyinnit Oneshots

Written in History

He was young, that was really all he could remember. It was bitterly cold, but the rain fell from the sky in liquid form. He was alone, a little cranky but mostly numb. He could barely feel his skin, and the repetitive motion of walking was now a muscle memory, not a conscious choice. His mind wandered to food, to safety or a place to dry off. He didn't bother wondering about when an animal or Mob would strike. There was nothing he could do but die in that situation. Even if he had a weapon, which he didn't, he wasn't strong or fast or agile. He was malnourished and could barely think about something that wasn't his growling organ.

        He saw the shadow before he saw the creature. He ducked behind a tree, breath slow so the rain was louder than that. He didn't move, body frozen. Even when his legs began to cramp up, even when his eyelids felt more like bricks than a part of his body, he didn't move. His body screamed that he should run while his mind was stockpiling adrenaline. When the shadow was gone, he would bolt, racing past the place that the shadow would be.

        That's what he thought, but the shadow was getting closer. It was multiplying. There was more than one. The shadows reminded him of zombies, but the arms were moving instead of clamped into one position. More like Endermen, he realized, a neutral mob he didn't need to worry about. Unfortunately, the shadow was shorter than an Endermen and the limbs weren't as long. Did zombie Endermen exist? Was this some new mob, one he didn't know the rules of?

        One shadow popped around the corner before he was ready. He brought his arms up defensively as the creature- whatever it was- looked at him with blinking eyes. It was a zombie in shape, but it had a different look about it. It didn't wear tattered clothes, instead sporting a yellow raincoat and boots. It had white eyes with a circle of brown and a smaller black inside the brown in the white space. There were lips, but they were more of a pink color than the gray zombies had. Their skin wasn't sagging and had a pale color to it. There was even brown fur on its head and above the eyes but nowhere else. This was a zombie if the zombie didn't look so.... Dead.

        "Hello?" The creature asked. Wait. That was his language. The creature spoke in words he understood. No other mob did that. Other mobs either didn't communicate, or had their own sounds with associated meanings. He was able to understand the sounds to an extent (he just heard a noise and paired it with the following actions), but no creature ever understood what he meant.

        He tilted his head. This was strange to him. This was a neutral mob, at least. All he had to do was walk away, and the creature wouldn't attack. It might get curious and follow, but he would survive another day all the same. That's what he thought, anyways, but when he tried walking away, the creature grabbed his wrist.

        He didn't know how to react. He hit the creature in the stomach, somehow curling his numb fingers into a fist. The creature didn't light up red with pain, but let go of his wrist with a startled expression. He took it as a sign to run, knowing the creature was seconds away from retaliating. He kept an even pace, trying to outrun the creature without wasting all his energy. What if the creature was like Enderman in the way they could teleport, albeit short distances?

        He stopped when he ran into another one of those creatures. This one had blonder hair, with blue eyes and big feathery wings like a bird or elytrian. He was taller than the other creature, and had a more intimidating aura around him with the large wings and sharp eyes that gazed down at him. He swallowed, letting the creature size him up. Hopefully, the creature understood that he was defenseless and wasn't a threat. Even if he was hostile, he didn't have anything to pack his punches, not brains or bronze. He didn't even know what he looked like, just pale hands and tattered clothes. He imagined he was a baby zombie that never learned the proper language as his peers. A zombie couldn't do damage to a winged creature like this, not when he was tiny, could he?