The Life of Herobrine

Chapter 2: More of Herobrine's Childhood

Enjoy!!

  I remember my first fighting lesson with my dad. I was horrible. But by my third, I was amazing. For a ten year old. I could beat almost all the other ten year old boys that were in training. Except for this one guy named Erik who could pretty much dominate everyone. I bet he could even beat my dad. But, other than him, I could beat everyone. So, I was the fighter.

  Even though I was dominating, my dad still didn't like my fighting. Well, enough talk about it all. Let me show you through my perspective what was going on in my life around that time....

****HEROBRINE'S POV****

  I walked home from sword practice, my sword swinging dully in my right hand. I looked down at it. Why couldn't my dad let me have stone, like everyone else, instead of wood? Toby, my best friend, was next to me blabbing on about how he was getting better and better, and how he thought Mellisa looked pretty cute(I must admit, she did). Notch was walking slightly in front of us, but I could tell he was listening in on our (well, Toby's) conversation. Eventually Toby stopped talking, and we walked in silence.

  For some strange reason my stomach was slightly churning, and I felt all cold. I wondered if maybe I was sick. I had never gotten sickonce in my life. Sometmes the whole family would be sick: except me. My mind was switching back and forth between my aching stomach, why I had never been sick before, and why Notch, a 16 year old, had been listening to two ten year olds' conversations.

  Suddenly I felt this strange flash of heat, but at the same time I was cold. My stomach felt like it was on a minecart. Notch and Toby were still walking like normal, their heads sort of looking down. I stopped dead. Both Notch and Toby turned to look at me; I guess they had noticed I wasn't walking anymore. "Brian, are you okay?', Notch asked."You look really...pale." I didn't answer, I was too busy trying not to throw up. Good thing we were on a forest road that not many people used, because that's exactly what I did, right then and there. I bent over, vomting into the grass, with that same hot/cold feeling.

  "Brian!", Notch exclaimed, surprised. "Oh man....", Toby muttered. I vomited again, feeling so weak I thought I would pass out. Notch hurried over to me. "Are you okay?", he asked, looking concerned.  I nodded weakly, my eyelids drooping. Toby looked at me with a mix of sympothy and concern. "That's really gotta suck, man.", he said to me.

  We started walking again. I noticed Toby was kind of walking a few feet away from me, I guess so if I threw up again he wouldn't get it all over him. Good thing too. Because, of course, I threw up again. Notch jumped backwards to avoid getting it on him, and Toby just kinda stood there looking surprised. I started wobbling on my feet, and the next thing I knew, Notch was holding me, looking concerned. I tried to speak, but it only came out as a moan. I saw Toby standing over me, a look of fear on his face.

  I started having trouble breathing, and started taking deep gasping breaths. Notch picked me up (he was pretty strong for not taking much sword practice), and started running. Soon we were in front of our house. Notch kicked open the door and gently set me on the sofa. Steve came in, looking confused. He took one look at me and shouted out- well, I think you guys have a good idea of what he said. 

  "MOM!!", Notch yelled, his worried gaze still on me. My mother came in, took one look at me and said under her breath- well, never mind what she said. She left the room, and I heard the sound of water running. She came back in with a cold wet cloth and gently set it on my forehead. The last thing I saw was Notch and Steve staring at me, looking very concerned. Then I blacked out.

 I woke up in my bed to see Notch standing next to me. He looked relieved once he saw my open eyes. I tried to sit up, but my stomach started churning, and the hot/cold feeling came back. I gasped in pain, and Notch shoved me back onto the bed, looking scared. "How....how long have  been out?..", I mummered. Notch hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Three days." The first thought that went through my head was, "THREE DAYS?!? Dad is gonna KILL ME!!" Suddenly my dad came into the room. Speak of the devil. 

  He stared at me, his eyes cold. "I guess you are too sick to start training tomorrow.", he said, then left. "START TRAINING??", I thought. "I am lying on my DEATH BED, and he wants me to START TRAINING?!?" I couldn't believe that my own dad could be like that. I closed my eyes and relaxed all my weight onto the pillow.  Notch sighed and gently squeezed my shoulder, then left.

  I woke up a couple hours later, my stomach in cramps and my whole body aching. I cried out, and Steve ran in. I must have looked really pale or green or something, because he grabbed a bucket from the side of the bed and shoved it in my hands. I vomited into it, feeling like I was going to pass out and die. I started crying. Hey, I was only 10.

  This went on for pretty much about two weeks. On the third week I was feeling much better, so my dad decided it was time for training again. I was swinging my sword at a wooden dummy, when suddenly I started seeing spots in my vision. My head started pounding, and uddenly I couldn't breath. I fell over, struggling for breath. Then I saw this strange black blob that slighty resembled a human coming into focus.

  I woke in the same place, on the training room floor. I felt perfectly fine, like I had never even been sick in the first place. I sat up, looked around, then went back to training.

***FIVE YEARS LATER***

 I was 15 years old. I was training in the training room again. My dad had decided I was good enough for a stone sword at eleven, and recently I had been given an iron one. I used half my golden ingots to get it enchanted with sharpness. I had been in the training room for two days now, with no food and no sleep. My three water bottles were long gone now. I was determined to make my dad see how good I was, and I had really started to enjoy fighting too. I was going to be the best. I would beat Erik, who was still the best. Suddenly I stopped swinging my sword for pretty the much the first time since I had come into the room. 

  I fell straight foward onto the ground, passing out from dehydration and lack of sleep. My dad found me in there, passed out on the floor. He yelled at me for thirty minutes straight for how a good fighter wouldn't have passed out. I tried to tell him that a good fighter needs his rest, but all I got was a slap in the face for my, as he called it, "Smart-ass comment". Later he beat me for passing out.

A/N Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Going to try to post another one either later today or sometime tomorrow! See you my Skittles! Vote, comment, follow