SBI oneshots and ideas

Out (SBI)

Plot: Kidza has overly protective parents, that's all. Every child has there things sold away by their parents.
Setting: Phil's room, the hallway, and police station.

Tw: abandonment and dark themes.
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Philza Minecraft was just sitting on his rocking chair. He swears that's it. No violence, nor shouts was present in his home in the small village.

But to be fair, Philza was a rowdy child. Yes he may sit on the rocking chair, but a few coragas rocks later and his head was jammed into the wall.

His parents sold the rocking chair after that.

This time Philza was just on his bed. Laying in the warm covers of his comforter. He lay there. which was maybe a bit too high off the ground.

He tossed and turned right off the bed.

His parents sold the bed. Leaving only the mattress.

Phil loved his swing set. Every day he would sit and swing to his harts content. The rickety old swings creaked and wined with every swing swung.

One day he went a bit too high and the set collapsed, sending the young Phil falling to the earth.

They trashed the old wooden swing set.

Phil sat in his room, on his old matress. He wasn't young anymore by his standards.

At the ripe of 11 all his toys and figurines were sold, gifted, or trashed.

All that was left in his room was his old mattress, his comforter, and his flat pillows. His parents got rid of everything else, say for a few things left in the hallways for him. His cloths lay in a pile on the floor in a corner. Clean and unclean separated into two different piles.

He was used to this sort of boredom. The type of boredom of fidgeting to do something you are not allowed to do.

Once again, like many times before, he was locked in his room. He didn't even have a ball to bounce on the walls. His parents got rid of it a year earlier.

So he sat on his old mattress. At the age of 11,  Phil was fighting pirates and defeating lizard people with the help of his trusty bird friends.

When he was 12 he was building grand structures. This was one of those times. He was making a big grand structure made of blue and red. With kettles floating from the sky indefinitely and the ground beneath him clouded in thick purple mist.

Or it would've been, it is still in progress. As he was still trying to figure out how to devoid the aria of its deep ocean.

Like everyday, his parents unlocked his door. A frightened look on their faces as they hand him a bowl of food.

"Thanks muma!" He thanks with a bright bubbly smile.

"Yea, no problem Phil." His mother rushes out. Closing the door tightly and locking it shut with a booming tick.

He turns towards his birds. The walls return to there blue sky and the floor becomes ocean.

The birds, his birds, look at his food hungrily.

"No back off, my food." Phil reprimands, "don't make me lock you back in base again."

The birds, the poor birds squawk away. Leaving him alone with his chicken noodle soup.

He eats hungrily. His favorite, and also one of the only, food.

Once he was finished he put his plate on the blue see-through platform he built a while back and, using his grayish wings, he flutters down to the ocean. His giggles carry far out to the distant lands.