Wilbur woke up in his bed.
He was trying to recall what happened the day before.
Oh, right.
He was attacked by the ghost.
That little fucker.
He sighed, rubbing at his temples.
This was going to be a long day.
He hoped he wouldn't have to confront the ghost again, but he's going to force himself to.
He couldn't help but feel remorse for the ghost.
They died so young.
He got up and changed out of his pajamas, then walking down the stairs.
To his surprise, the ghost was right there, sleeping on the sofa.
He thought ghosts didn't really sleep.
Guess the kid's an exception.
Now that he thought about it, the ghost seemed to have some tarred ink flowing down his forehead.
That must have been where the ghost's injury was afflicted.
A death due to damage at the head.
He wondered how it happened.
He walked towards the kitchen, and began dusting the corners and wiping the tiles down.
He didn't want to cook in a messy environment.
Right.
Food.
He doesn't have any ingredients.
He continued working on cleansing the kitchen, then heading to the door.
He put his shoes on, and headed outside.
He also decided to bring his brown jacket with him.
He didn't know what the weather was today.
He closed the door behind him, and set travel to the nearest village.
It was a few kilometers away, which was quite far if you'd walk.
He sighed.
This was going to take a while.
Well, it took roughly 47 minutes.
That's rich, isn't it?
The journey back would be extremely painful, as he'd be carrying a fuck ton of stock.
He looked around and found the nearest stall where there were fresh vegetables and fruit.
"How much for these?" Wilbur said, motioning towards some vegetables.
"3 Emerald for 4 'em each." The trader said, heavy accent sticking through.
Wilbur nodded in approvement.
He gave the trader a few emeralds in return more some vegetables, and waved goodbye.
3 emerald for 4 vegetables were quite a bargain.
Perhaps they had loads of stock.
He trailed off in the market, looking for a stall where meat was sold.
He found a butcher's, and walked up while examining the meat.
"Fresh batch." He said, motioning towards some lamb, "Just got 'em out."
Wilbur restrained from sneering. He hated lamb.
He loved sheep, but not to eat.
"Just some steak, please."
YOU ARE READING
sorry, don't really care because my life's running on acoustic.
FanfictionWilbur leaves his childhood home where Philza Minecraft had harbored him for the last 24 years. He was finally able to get his hands on a simplistic yet refined home which was near the woods, and located nearby a stream. He decided this would be the...
