Minecraft - A Novel - The Journey Begins

Chapter 2 - Dreams... Or not?

Peter did not wake up in his bedroom, but in a much different place.

He was on the floor, on some kind of block he did not recognize. There was no door, only blocks all around him.

He took a cautious step back, his palms to the wall. "Hello?" he called, hoping for an answer. "Hello?" He called, once more. His voice echoed back to him, with the sound of hello drifting back and back again, always growing softer.

Knowing there was no use in saying anything else, he sat down. The blocks he was sitting on were very uncomfortable, and made him squirm ever once in a while. Peter was already very tired, and his body longed for rest. Peter closed his eyes, but could not sleep.

Opening his eyelids once more, he heard evil laughter. It grew louder and louder, piercing his ears. He put his hands to his ears, but it was no use. The high pitched laughter went through, and his ears bleeded. The pain was incredible and blood trickled down.

Finally, the laughter stopped, and quick as it had come, Peter's ears auto healed.

Peter touched his ear, and it showed no wound. Frantically standing up, he kept hitting the walls that bound him.

He was out of control, with no thought of his own. His body acted for him, and his hands bled as he tore through the block. Finally, it ended. His hand wounds were still there, unlike the ear, and now he could see where he was. The mot horrid, horrid place. Fire was everywhere, and lava lakes were as common as oceans.

The temperature was rising rapidly, and Peter fell down in pain. His back was slashed as if a sword just cut through him, and his eyes were shining white, pure white. The evil laughter came back, and his ears were bleeding once more.

"You cannot escape," the voice taunted, " You will be here forever" it said. For that moment Peter felt as if he was dying, and that he wanted to die.

The pain was unimaginable, and blood trickled down his neck. He jumped into lava and...

Buzzz Buzzz, went his alarm clock. Instantly, Peter checked if the wounds or blood stains were there.

They weren't there, and as Peter realized this, he sighed in relief and relaxed himself.

It was just a dream, and there was nothing to actually worry about. Drops of sweat dripped down on his neck, as where the blood had been in his dream.

Peter had these nightmares for a while, and had begun to get used to them, but he still was afraid of them, the young boy he was. As a result he dreaded sleep, for it always brought him fear and ungratefulness.

Yawning and stretching, Peter walked downstairs calmly, going down the flights of stairs and glancing at the chandelier. He had learned not to tell his parents about his nightmares, because they always worried about them too much.

Another boring day, he thought, as he walked to the dining table, Another boring day.