Alex.

The Shelter

Alex spawned into the world, a flat, blocky surface with scattered pigs, a forest, and a small pond. "Where the hell am I?" he questioned. The sun was just rising over the mountains, and he needed to get working. Sprinting, Alex ran over to a tree. With his blocky fist he punched the block until a small bit of wood popped out. "Strange..." he said out loud, and cut down more trees. Soon the sun was setting over the horizon. A cute green bush-type mob spawned. "Oh shi--" Alex zipped off to the village, slamming the door behind him. "Ohgodohgodohgod," he muttered, scared to death. What the hell were these things? Alex walked over to a crafting table. By placing one log block in the grid, he got four back. Soon he was able to craft a sword to defend himself from these mobs. A low growl emerged from the door. "God, these people can't light well at all." he muttered, swinging open the door to quickly slay the zombie. Shutting the door, he looked into his inventory. There was a new item. Rotten flesh was dropped from the zombie, along with its golden helmet it was wearing. It's weak, Alex thought, but it'll do. The night slowly passed as Alex read some of the books from the librarian's small house. There was a twanggg from a bow as it hit a glass block. "What the--Stay away from me!!" Alex shouted as he peeped through the window. The sun began rising, and soon the skeleton was on fire, as well as some zombies. There was a creeper in the distance. A spider lost its jockey. Alex recalled words from a poem somewhere: Some burn, some do not. "Some of these burn. Violently. With fire." he noted. With his wooden sword in hand, Alex cautiously stepped outside. The village was busting with life as villagers ran around, trading, entering and leaving their huts. A strange, small building with iron bars and lava was near the middle. "What's that?!" Alex asked as he ran to it, as opened the door. Inside there were a few chairs and a table, and a chest. Inside the chest there were a few apples and a iron pickaxe. "Sweet." Alex noted as he took the items. A villager with a black apron, the Blacksmith, was smelting some iron. "Hello, traveler." he greeted Alex. "You don't care that I just took your apples and iron pickaxe, right." Alex said as more of a statement then as a question. Alex left to go make a house. "Maybe I'll dig into that hill..." he said as he started swinging his pick at a dark grey ore. Coal. Just as the sun was setting his house was dug out. He'd went and killed some sheep for a bed. Alex layer down in his new bed under the soft red blankets. Tomorrow was another day.