Username or E-mail:
Forget your password?
Young Writers Society
Falling Down the Mineshaft
Thu Jun 06, 2019 2:45 pm
Falling Down the Mineshaft
A Saeverse Production
[ A Minecraft Fanfiction ]
It was just supposed to be an update.
The day was April 23rd, 2019.
Minecraft was set to update. You chose to log in on that day; maybe it was because you were regular player, or because you wanted to play for nostalgia's sake. But, no matter the reason, the outcome was the same.
You chose to play the game.
And the game chose you.
One moment, you were at the keyboard. The next, you felt excruciating pain, followed by darkness as you swiftly fell unconscious. When you finally came to again, you found yourself in a world
like your own. It certainly looked the same – similar trees, similar animals, and similar sensations. But your body felt wrong, and there were some creatures flitting about in the darkness that just didn't seem right.
All it took was a glance down for you to figure out what had happened. Whether by magic, a malfunction, or something else, the update had brought you into what was just supposed to be a video game as your skin.
But this isn't the Minecraft you've come to know and love. The update has made it a strange, unfamiliar place, and you've discovered that you have terrifying new powers at your disposal. You may have been blessed with the power to conjure flames at will, or the ability to bend darkness to your desires.
You need to find others like you. You couldn't have been the only ones who were brought here by the update. But the world of Minecraftia is a dangerous place, and one has to be wary of all they meet.
And, most importantly of all...
…you are not alone.
If you're interested in joining this storybook, please click on
link or on the blue box in the upper right hand corner of the page. It'll bring you to the DT (discussion thread) for this storybook, which is where we'll be doing all of our scheming for the storybook! This thread is reserved for just the story posts.
“You cannot get through a
without having an
world around you
What you do makes a
you have to decide
you want to make
Mon Jun 10, 2019 8:53 pm
[ A Ship Sets Sail ]
It had been a long time since Lucy had gotten to sit down and play a day's worth of Minecraft. The last time must have been freshman year - things had gotten surprisingly busy after then, and it was a miracle that she had enough time to waste a day behind a screen. But here she was, sitting at her desk with the blinds drawn, lights off and a can of coke at her side. Her phone lay forgotten on her bed. With her parents at work and Diane off camping with her family, there was no one to call.
And Lucy, to be honest, was alright with that.
It was just her, her mods and the world at her fingertips.
Now all that there was left to do was update the game. It took a little time, but she wasn't bored. She was scheming away on a spare scrap of paper the entire time, trying to figure out just what additions she needed to make the perfect replica of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. She got so into it that she didn't realize the game had finished updating - which, theoretically, wasn't a bad thing, because the plans were
. The "impress my girlfriend when she sees it later" type of good.
Setting her notes aside and taking a large gulp of coke, she started the game and opened the world.
Lucy thought she knew what true pain felt like. She had broken her toe in seventh grade, and the overwhelming sensation had stuck with her ever since. But that was
compared to what she felt as she sat at the screen, and
compared to the pain that made her clench her heart as she struggled to remain upright. Was this a heart attack? She didn't think she could get one at seventeen, and she didn't think it was supposed to make her entire body feel like it was on fire-
The world went dark.
When Lucy opened her eyes again, the world felt
For one thing, there was something over one of her eyes as she sat up. She absentmindedly went to move it out of the way with her right hand, only to feel a sharp tinge of pain under said eye. There were so many things to process - how her body felt off, how there was something coming out of her back, and how the room she was in was familiar and not - but it was the pain and the thing covering her eye that she focused on.
She tried moving it again.
, she thought, feeling another tinge of pain as the whatever-it-was poked her cheek. There was something on her hand. Well, both hands technically had things, but it was the right hand that felt the most unfamiliar.
She raised it in front of her face.
There was a hook on her hand.
Not quite sure if she was dreaming or not, she poked it with her other hand.
And then she started staring at that hand, too, because the hand was nothing like her own. She flipped it over, poked it with the hook, and then proceeded to look it over again. "That's not my hand." She blinked again, her left hand instinctively going up to her throat. "That's not my voice."
She paused again.
Maybe she should have been screaming about her voice sounding far deeper, older, and more masculine, but she was still in partial denial about the whole thing. It just couldn't be her, right? This was a weird dream, or a weird out-of-body experience or something normal, but no amount of staring gave her an idea. "Deep breaths, Luce," she reminded herself, getting a bit of a chill when she heard the voice that left her lips. "You just have to come up with a plan. Look around. Figure out what happened, where you are and-"
The room had been relatively normal - maybe some kind of restaurant, from all of the tables - until she had looked up at the stage and saw the towering animatronics on it.
She screamed a wholly unfamiliar scream.
Then she grabbed the thing closest to her (a metal napkin holder) and chucked it at Freddy.
When the bear straight out of Five Nights at Freddy's fell over from the badly aimed throw, something about the whole situation clicked. It was a stupid, absurd theory, but here she was with a hook for a hand, what was beginning to feel suspiciously like an eye patch over an eye, and what she was pretty sure was a tail sticking out of her butt.
She was in Minecraft as her skin.
Her replica had a bathroom in it. She didn't have the foggiest idea of how well that would translate over to what had apparently become real life, but it would have a mirror. And that was all that she needed to confirm her theory. After a quick stop by the stage to stand Freddy back up - if he really was her creation, she wasn't going to let him be harmed further - she darted off towards what she was pretty sure was the bathroom. Maybe she should have been questioning which bathroom to use, but what the heck - it was her place, and she definitely wasn't ready to see her crudely made urinals brought to life.
She skid to a halt in front of the mirror.
A man - familiar and not familiar - stared back at her, looking like an eerily realistic cosplay of a human!Foxy. A golden eye watched her from a face with a bit of stubble, and a quick check with her left hand proved that her other eye was perfectly fine underneath the eye patch. A tail swished absentmindedly behind him, and a pair of soft - of course she tried touching them - fox ears were nestled among messy scarlet hair. And when she gaped at her reflection, she saw a pair of little fangs peeking out from among his pearly whites.
"Okay, then," Lucy said. "I guess I'm stuck in Minecraft."
...It was going to a little time to sink in.
She stared at herself for a little longer before returning to the main room, marveling over how it all looked in real life. It was the perfect convergence of two dreams come true - a love of FNAF and a love of Minecraft - and she wished Diane was here to see it. Her girlfriend might not have been into FNAF as much, but getting stuck here with her would have been awesome.
She paused in her train of thought, a look of sudden realization appearing on her face.
"Diane be elsewhere, but me be still able to 'ave some fun."
The look quickly transformed into a sly, mischievous grin that showed off her newly-acquired fangs. Oh, this was going to be
. She could worry about the implications of getting stuck in a video game later. Now? It was time to embrace her inner pirate, and Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was her landlocked ship.
"Be ready for Freddy?" she said, glancing at the immobile animatronics on the stage. She pointed a hook at the previously attacked bear. "Ye better be ready for Foxy, because this pirate captain be ready to take th' stage!"
“You cannot get through a
without having an
world around you
What you do makes a
you have to decide
you want to make
Mon Jun 24, 2019 12:13 am
Screen Shot 2019-07-01 at 8.54.07 PM.png (223.95 KiB) Viewed 72 times
"Alright, bros," Jamie said. He had his camera voice on--the low, deep one with the slightest hint of a rasp. "I've got a special treat for you today." He fumbled with his GoPro, popping it out of the harness he wore around his chest and holding it out. He had enough experience using it to know his face was perfectly in frame. "Now, I've been training pretty hard for this one. Bro, you don't even
he laughed, running his free hand through his loose curls. He didn't have to fake his excitement.
The rooftops were especially windy today, and he was kind of regretting not bringing a hairtie along. But the clouds above were dark, churning, foreboding. He wouldn't have time to run back home and grab one before the imminent thunderstorm. And postponing the video wasn't an option. He'd already procrastinated long enough.
He pointed a serious finger at the camera. "Now, I know I usually explain the route I'm gonna take, but today's different. Uh, we're gonna be flirting with danger--" He looked around lowered his voice to a conspirational whisper "--but that's no different from normal, is it?" He winked, and chuckled. "Yeah, I'll shut up now. Enjoy, bros. Peace."
He cast a glance to the sky. He had time. For sure. And if he didn't, he was a
Plus, some of these fancy moves he had planned would be way cooler in the rain. Jamie shook off his worry and did a few last minute stretches.
The rooftops were beautiful. Most people wouldn't agree--the sky-facing walls of a building were left plain, undecorated. They were home to machinery, wire and pipes that jutted out awkwardly, spindly towers of rough steel. To Jamie, they were something completely different. Sure, they weren't aesthetically pleasing, but every ledge, rail, unnatural little wall represented opportunity, a chance to get better, a heart-stopping moment of fear and excitement. From the rooftops, you can see the spread of the city. People. Cars. Color. Life. And it's all so insignificant. So temporary. One leap, and you find yourself a world away. What's happening in
little plaster box? Corporate meetings? A child being born?
Jamie grinned, backed up to the edge of the roof, and flew.
epic parkour fail?! sick flips taken too far
Jamie dragged a hand down his face and groaned. Is it really worth it? Broadcasting his failure across the internet, where it's sure to go viral? Sacrificing his pride for views? His cursor hovered over the "publish" button.
"No," he said aloud, and shoved the mouse off his desk entirely. It bounced on the hardwood floor twice before spinning to a stop. He frowned and leaned back in his chair. He did sign up for this as a YouTuber. He can't be perfect all the time. Right? But his mistake wasn't a simple misstep. He winced, remembering it.
After a particularly menacing growl from the clouds, Jamie, startled, had mistimed his jump. Luckily, he was a professional. He knew how to catch himself on a ledge, and haul himself onto the roof of the next building. Unluckily, that was the moment the sky opened up, and any attempt to haul himself up onto the now-slippery roof was more dangerous than hanging three stories in the air. Which he was. Three stories. Not a deadly fall, for the lucky.
Luckily, he could count himself among those who didn't die from a three story drop. Unluckily, after scrabbling for purchase and failing, Jamie found himself in free-fall, with his back to the rapidly-approaching ground. Luckily, He was able to grab hold of a particularly tall downspout attached to the wall. Unluckily, his momentum tore the flimsy metal from the wall, and he fell hard against the concrete, shoulder-first, after said downspout tore a deep, painful gash up the length of his arm. And then, realizing he might have to pay for that, he parkour'd his ass home as fast as he could. (On the sidewalk. Like a normal person. Maybe that wasn't actually parkour.)
Yeah. Not his best moment.
He rolled over to the mouse and picked it up. Didn't seem to be broken. He shrugged and rolled back over to his laptop.
His stomach sank. With his arm injured like this, he wouldn't be able to make any videos at all for weeks. He didn't have a job. His videos were his only source of income.
He closed the Chrome window--he'd upload his failure of a video later, he had something else to check up on.
Just a few more clicks, and... Jamie laughed out loud. He wasn't going to starve.
He had Minecraft.
Luckily, a month or two ago, he started a new weekly series on his channel--SickFlipsBro: ParkourCraft. And luckily, It had been a wild success, even though all he did was sit at the computer for an hour, press the spacebar a few times, edit and post. And even more luckily, he didn't need to aggravate his injured arm to record those videos at all.
Jamie let out a whoop. His upstairs neighbor banged on his ceiling. He didn't care. Sure, the game needed an update. Whatever. He didn't care about that, either. He spent the whole download staring at the progress bar and grinning wildly. It was a good thing he lived alone.
When Jamie woke up, everything was
First off, the sun was shining. The soft grass beneath his bare arms was dry, and impossibly lush.
Second off, he definitely wasn't wearing the same clothes he was before. Also, they were dry too.
Ah, shit. Of course. Jamie sat up, scratching the back of his neck. He must have been kidnapped or something. Yeah. He didn't publish his video on time and an angry local fan decided to bring out the big guns. And then drive him out... to the forest. And leave him there. Well, maybe not. The air was way too warm for Denver, anyway.
He heaved himself to his feet, and swayed a bit. Woah. He was a bit further from the ground than he used to.
Jamie decided this whole situation was a bucket full of weird. But he'd play along. The weather was nice. Plus, his... his arm. The gash was gone. Hold up. He held his right arm up to the sun. Yep, perfectly healed. It was as if he'd never been injured in the first place. Come to think of it, as he searched the rest of his body, it seemed like
his scars had just vanished. And his muscles were bigger, somehow more toned. Plus, his skin gleamed, like it had been rubbed with oil. The muscles he could definitely live with, but the skin--what the hell is going on?
He needed to find some sort of civilization. That was his first step. He could figure out what he was going to after that once he found another human being.
Jamie very suddenly regretted rejecting SurvivalBros' invitation to join them on their channel for a special episode. And quitting the Boy Scouts at eleven. As if in agreement, his stomach grumbled.
He took that as a cue to get moving, and pushed forward through the unnaturally sparse forest. Seriously, did bushes just stop existing? Flowers?
"Hello?" he called into the trees. "Anyone there? Hey--any bros willing to help a parkour bro out? Please?"
In the distance, he thought he caught a glimpse of a wooden roof.
"You are... a new flower on an old Elm tree. What? NOT MY FAULT YOU REMIND ME OF A PINK FLOWER ON AN OLD ELM TREE" -Tuesday
"You would make a terrifying politician." -CuriosityCat
. I review!
Formerly Zhia and Reneia
Wed Jul 10, 2019 6:31 pm
Barry falls into a bathroom!
“Yes, yes, of course of course...uh huh...and you need that in two weeks? Okay, I'll get back to you later and I'll start as soon as possible.”
Barry let the phone drop on his bed as he groaned. God, why did clients have to be so picky? At least that one was gone. A strange request, he had to admit. It wasn't everyday someone commissioned an action pose of a character quite like this, though he can't say he'd put it up as his number one weirdest thing he'd ever been asked to draw. He sighed and checked the clock on his phone. 10:23am. Great, he could get some coffee, scroll through memes for half an hour and then get to what this client wanted. He hoped they weren't picky about the pose.
Barry found himself an hour later scrolling through Reddit forums, trying to find references. After about 20 minutes of fruitless search, he suddenly remembered that there were people on YouTube that did parkour. Maybe he could find something there.
After about an hour of ingesting parkour videos through his optical organs, he noted that he'd been sticking mostly to one channel. He hadn't paid much attention to the name, but he noticed they did some minecraft content. Feeling nostalgic, he watched a few, before remembering he had a job to do. After quickly sketching out some basic thumbnail sketches, he sent the file to the client, asking if any of the ones he'd shown were to their liking.
Another half an hour passed with him watching more of that minecraft parkour series. When he checked his phone again, he noted he'd not gotten a reply from the client. He shrugged and figured while he waited, he could watch more of the minecraft series.
Half an hour later, the nostalgia itch was too strong to ignore and he gave in, opening up the minecraft launcher that had all but collected dust on his desktop. After a few clicks, it was updating. He checked his phone again. Still no response from the client. They were probably asleep.
When Barry looked up again, the uodate was finished, and he felt a strange, unearthly pain. Soon enough, before he could do anything about it, he blacked out.
With his limp body splayed over his desk, he didn't hear his phone notify him of a new message.
Barry woke up with a start, noting that his legs, from the knees down, felt a little wet.
“Alright. First off, ouch. Second off, where am I?”
he thought to himself, looking around. He noticed that his clothes seemed more clunky. And shiny. He looked down, noticing he was wearing some lightweight clothing with what seemed like thin metal protection sewn in. He squinted. Was his chest a bit bigger, or was that just him? Also, who was the smart guy who dropped him into a farm. Now he's ruined someone's potatoes. He'd have to apolog-
“THIEF!!” Someone yelled from behind him. Barry whipped his head round to see what the commotion was, only to ve smacked in the side of the head by something else. It wasn't a hard thing, though, but what surprised him more was that the person was pointing at him. He raised his hands slowly.
“Uh, sir-” he noted that his voice sounded weird as all heck but now was not the time to be dwelling on weird voice changes - he'd call it second puberty for now - “I think you have the wrong person. I kinda...just woke up here,” he explained, though none of his words seemed to deter the approaching mob of what appeared to be villagers. Indeed, as Barry looked about he noticed that there were small, wooden houses that looked like they came out of some ye olde fantasy village.
“Sir, I'll give you back anything I've taken, as it may have just been a mistake,” Barry tried to diffuse the situation, but as the crowd of onlookers grew, so did the tension in the air.
“Give m’ back papa's potatoes!!!” a small, young voice cried out from somewhere below Barry’s eyeline. He looked down, only to see a toddler trying to attack his legs. A few of the villagers called the child back but he didn't seem to listen. Barry internally cursed and went to pick up the child, only to have his arms get swatted at with tiny little hands.
“Aaaaah! Stranger danger! Stranger danger!!” the child screamed, and ran away, only to trip and fall. He started crying, and Barry had to wonder what was his deal.
“Look, look, I'll plant more potatoes for you if you want! And then I'll be on my way! All I wanna know is where...the...what…” Barry trailed off, the ground beginning to shake. The crowd parted, and a silhouette of a large, beast of a person stood, staring at Barry. The light shone from behind the person's head, making it hard to make out any features.
“What is problem?” the newcomer asked, their voice deep and booming. The child who had tripped earlier went running.
“It was that lady over there!! She made me trip!!” the child pointed at Barry, and he had to take a look around to make sure he was the only one in that area.
“Woah woah woah, now hold on, I-” before Barry could continue, the person walked forward, moving out of the harsh light. Consequently, Barry could now make out their features. And boy, were they some features.
Red, glowing eyes sunken deep into a cold, harshly chiseled face that stared at Barry with eyes that showed nothing but anger. Pure, unwavering rage that told Barry one thing: he was screwed. Muscles made from iron (literally!) flexed, as vines warped and bent, trying to stay attached to the body of the Iron Golem. To Barry, each step was punctuated by his own heartbeat, pumping blood around his body so he could get the hell out of here.
And get the hell out of here he did. As soon as the golem reached the edge of the farm, Barry wasted no time asking more questions. He turned tail, and no, he did not run. He did not sprint. He bolted, faster than a swiftness potion ever could dream of. Figuratively, of course. Barry did not look back, not even when he had to dodge a few cows, not even when scrambling up a hill with sheep and pigs grazing all over, not even when he swam across a river populated by squid for some reason. He didn't even question these oddities; rather, he was focused on one thing: the direction that would take him away from that village.
As he zigzagged his way through a forest of white and brown with a ceiling of green, he found himself realising that he felt a lot lighter than before. He wondered if he had been knocked out for very long. Or maybe he had been knocked out, frozen in cryostasis and only now had he been awoken by some strange, otherworldly entity, that decided he should find himself a criminal of “Hell no” Village, which he had mentally named himself just now. Perhaps that was why he found only an inkling of familiarity in the landscape he ran through, as he desperately tried to escape from the clutches of an iron golem that gave up chasing him long ago.
As he ran, he saw a clearing up ahead. Sliding through a gap between the trees, he stopped as he came face to face with a building. It seemed to be the side of some sort of restaurant, if the obscured sign on what he assumed was the front was anything to go by.
“This is perfect! If I can make my way inside through here, I can escape those villagers who are
chasing me right this second!”
Barry thought to himself.
Back at the village, the iron golem let out what could only be described as a sneeze, as it continued mulling about the village.
Barry found himself climbing up the wall, and - miraculously - through a gap in the window.
Falling to the ground with an “Oof,” Barry laid there for a few moments, before realising he wasn't alone. Quickly, he stood up and dusted himself off, before leaning on a nearby stall -- it seemed he was in a bathroom -- and nodding toward the other person in the room.
The pirate fox person raised an eyebrow at him, turning towards him with an amused smirk. “What be ye doin’ in me bathroom?” he asked, and for a wiff of a second, Mr Fox seemed to have a ghost of a frown on his face. Barry blinked and missed it, though.
“Hiding fron a vicious mob out for my flesh,” Barry replied casually, with a bit of a shrug, “how's your Saturday going?”
Mr Fox Man smirks right back at Barry, “It be goin’ good -- though me don't have a mob after me booty,” he replied, taking a step closer.
Barry laughed at that. Walking forward, he glanced around the room a bit more carefully.
“The woman's bathroom? Whoops-- wait what's he doing in here?”
Barry stopped about an arms length away from Mr Foxy, tilting his head.
“Well Mr Pirate,” he says, imitating the man in question's accent, “why be ye in the ladies’ room, if ye have no mob after yer booty?”
It was faint, it was subtle, and Barry almost missed it, but Foxy Man froze for the briefest of seconds. Barry then felt something poking at his stomach.
“Well, why would ye be needin’ a mob after ye to be in the ladies’ room, miss?”
At that, Barry frowned. “Miss”?
“Uh, well because I'm a…” he began, but trailed off as he got a look at himself in the mirror. Soft, feminine features. Bright blue eyes, full lips and long, brown hair pulled up into a ponytail. Wearing a light suit of armour with very thin metal enhancement. The higher voice, the slightly bigger chest and feeling of being a bit lighter made sense to Barry now. This was not his body, oh definitely not. But, as far as he was concerned, the only problem was the ponytail. He'd never had one before and he wasn't sure how it worked. He was sure of one thing though.
“...my God, I'm beautiful.”
I'm cool as a cucumber
Even if I'm in a pickle
Two possibilities exist: Either we are alone in the universe, or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.
Fri Jul 12, 2019 1:11 am
[ Ahoy, mateys! ]
Before this fateful confrontation, Lucy had been using the bathroom. It had been an experience, to say the least, but she had just finished washing her hands when the knight showed up.
(Hands in the plural – she did have a hand underneath the hook, though it was hard to tell when the hook was on like it was now.)
Lucy's instincts were pretty good most of the time. There were a few incidents that weren't to be spoken of – Diane was there for almost all of them – but she usually could make the right assessment on a situation. And it seemed like she wasn't the only one who got stuck as her skin, if the woman's reaction to her reflection was anything to go off.
“That be a mood,” she agreed. She cast herself a look in the mirror as well, just for kicks. She looked
. If she didn't know it was her beneath the hook and eye patch, she would have thought she was looking at an actual pirate in her reflection.
The knight tore her (probably not a she, given the confusion over the use of miss earlier) gaze away from the mirror to give Lucy a look. Before she could voice whatever confusion she had over the comment, or maybe even make a dig at Lucy's appearance, Lucy beat her to the punch.
“Me be like ye,” she said. Should she discard the pirate accent? Yeah. Would she? Nay. “Me be stuck in Minecraft too. The name be Lucy. Me think we be stuck as our skins-”
why the villagers were after me,” the other player said.
Lucy stared, and the accent dropped. “You-You didn't realize that?”
“I was too busy being threatened for stealing potatoes,” the knight said, with a nonchalant attitude that Lucy suspected was normal. “I'm Barry.”
The two shook hands, which was made more than a little awkward by the hook, but Lucy was barely paying attention to it. She was being to come to a major realization. The type of realization that would make this whole getting stuck in Minecraft thing a lot less fun. She wandered out into the main room, Barry following behind her. If there was one thing he wasn't, it was silent – she could hear his footsteps echoing through the empty building.
“Is this the place from FNAF?”
“Me made it meself,” Lucy absentmindedly answered. What was useful here? There was wearable armor, but if Barry's movements were anything to go of off, it would just drag her down. The weapons were all modded to fit the characters. The only things she could probably find was a spare change of clothes – the night guard uniform – and some food.
“Do you have to talk like that?” Barry asked, walking up to one of the animatronics and looking it in the eye – almost like he was challenging it to come fight him.
“Nay,” Lucy answered. She joined him up front, but her gaze was focused at a point beyond the group. “But it be fun, an' when will me have another chance to?”
“That be a very good point,” Barry conceded.
The two fell into silence.
They stared at the animatronics long enough for Lucy to start getting creeped out by Freddy's face – it definitely was a trick of the eye when she thought his head move
a bit – and Lucy took that later revelation as a sign that they needed to do something else.
She turned to Barry.
“...Me don't want to be th' one to bring this up,” she finally said, “but me thinks we be in a
of trouble. If th' villagers be getting mad at ye for stealing their taters before ye ended up in th' game, then we need to be worrying about whatever we did before this. How good be yer memory of th' game?”
Barry didn't say anything.
He just silently stared at her.
But that, unfortunately, was enough to convey that it wasn't very good.
“Well, we be walking the plank,” Lucy miserably said. She might have had a good memory of what she had done last, but she had no idea how much their gaming pasts were going to haunt them. She had done a lot of stupid stuff in recent years, and she shuddered at the thought of being punished for it.
“Goodbye players,” Barry added, despair clear in his voice.
Then they stared at each other.
“...Ye be thinking what me be thinking?”
“If we're stuck in Minecraft,” Barry said, “then other people have to be, too.”
“Link start,” Lucy whispered, grinning from one ear to the other.
Barry shook his head and gave a chuckle as Lucy started for one of the backrooms – if they really were leaving her beloved creation, she needed to grab just a
things. “So you've seen
Sword Art Online
“Me be a pirate of good tastes.” Lucy pushed open the doors, making a beeline for the rack of costumes. She might not have had the full set, but she just need a single costume part. “Now, if ye want some
be where it be at.”
She plopped a pirate hat on.
“There,” she said, spinning back to show off the addition to her outfit. “Me fox ears be hidden now, an' me can pull a
an' hide me tail underneath me shirt.”
She did exactly that as she marched back into the main room with Barry beside her. It took some manipulating, but she managed to get it wrapped around her underneath her shirt.
Now for the last part.
“Just give me a minute, an' me be ready to embark on our adventure,” she told him. She darted over to the stage and hopped onto it. Freddy and Chica were spared not even the quickest of looks – her eyes were only on Bonnie.
She took his guitar.
Slinging the strap over her shoulders and adjusting it so the guitar was on her back, Lucy jumped off to the spot right in front of Barry.
“Can I take something?” he asked.
“Nay,” she said, grabbing onto his wrist with her non-hook hand and bringing him towards the door. “Potatoes be th' only thing ye be stealing today, Barry.”
The town had fallen into chaos after the thief's escape, but it returned to normal relatively quickly. The farmers resigned themselves to their lost crop – an unfortunately frequent occurrence in these parts – and began the tedious task of tidying the plots. The other villagers lingered in the town's square. Some hoped that word of the thief would arrive, while the rest knew it was hopeless.
But towns were rarely without visitors, and this village was no exception.
A young boy, no more than a few years old, noticed someone approaching on the horizon. Though he could do little more than make out their general shape – something humanoid – he still ran to the spot where his father was mourning the loss of his potatoes.
“Papa!” he cried out. His father kept staring at the ground. “I see someone coming, Papa!”
The man raised his head to stare at the horizon. The entire village grew silent as the figure approached – even the iron golem turned to watch the stranger. There had been travelers that looked like him before, but none had the same energy to his step that he did. The tips of his gray sleeves swayed in the wind, and his sunglasses were perched almost askew. Even his hairstyle was different – his dark brown hair may have had the same small ponytail, but the way it was thrown up was slightly different.
His amulet bounced on his chest right up until the moment he stopped in front of the conglomeration of people. Then it lay still, glinting in the light of the midday sun.
“Hi,” he said.
The traveler slipped his hands into the pockets of his gray pants.
“Are you going to steal papa's potatoes?” the little boy asked.
His face fell. “Someone stole your crops?” he asked.
“A woman wearing knight's armor,” the boy's father sorrowfully confirmed. “They had just finished growing – I had just left the house to harvest them when she took all but one of them.”
“Do you have it with you?”
The villager nodded.
“Can I have it?” he asked.
After a moment of hesitation, he handed over to the traveler. The town watched – wary – and half expected the newcomer to run off in that very moment. But then he withdrew a golden sword from his side and cut it into small chunks in a movement that was too quick for the normal eye to fully comprehend. His arms filled with the potatoes and sword clattering onto the pathway, he turned to the father once more.
“Were they planted in that empty plot of land over there?” he asked.
“If you replant that,” he said, “it'll take too long to grow.”
“I have my ways,” the traveler promised, a smile dancing across his lips as he approached the dirt. The moment was partially ruined by him almost tripping over a discarded shovel, but he regained his balance and quickly placed all the chunks into the dirt.
Then he withdrew a pouch from his pocket.
Gasps rang out among the villagers as he began to sprinkle its contents on the plot of land. The white powder coated the earth. Even those who had never seen it before knew it had to be bone meal; only a few moments later, the dust sunk into the ground and plants began to spring to life.
He turned back to the group.
A second later, the little boy was running up to him and throwing his arms around his legs. “You brought papa's potatoes back!” he exclaimed, a big grin on his face. The traveler smiled, too, giving the boy a pat on the head before looking up at his father.
“I hope that helps,” he said.
“It certainly does – words can't describe my gratitude.” The villager hesitated, glancing at the faces of his fellow townspeople. “Is there anything I-
can do to show how thankful we are-We don't even know your name, and you just spent all that bone meal on a stranger.”
“It's nothing!” the traveler hurriedly said. He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “It's not that hard to get it, and you needed it more than me right now.”
Glances were exchanged. Just who was this stranger, and how could he ever say something like fighting mobs was an easy task?
The boy jumped at his feet. “What's your name, mister?”
“It's, uh, Sky,” the traveler said. He gestured in the direction of the woods. “I really should be going now – if I don't hurry, I won't be able to get through the woods before night fall.”
“That's very understandable,” the farmer agreed. “But are you sure there isn't anything I could do?”
Sky thought the offer over.
“...What direction did the woman who stole your potatoes go?”
The farmer pointed at the woods. “She went in there. We tried following her, but...”
“The woods are
,” the boy whispered, looking up with a completely serious expression. Sky's gaze dropped down to the young villager. “There's a creepy pirate who lives there, and he keeps mechanical monsters in his house! If you're not careful, they'll
A woman nervously stepped out of the crowd. “I-I saw a ghost in there just yesterday, too. He was a very good looking man, and seemed alive, but no one could ever look that perfect...”
“And then there's that witch that lives on the other end of the woods, just before the swamp,” the butcher added. “She doesn't venture out of her hut much, but when she does...”
“She's a menace,” the blacksmith agreed.
By this point, the boy had returned to his father's side, and Sky was free to leave the town. So he gave a nod and a bow – fixing his sunglasses as he popped back up – and said, “Thank you for the warnings! I really need to head out now, but thanks again.”
And then the traveler was gone just as quickly as he had appeared.
“You cannot get through a
without having an
world around you
What you do makes a
you have to decide
you want to make
Light griefs are loquacious, but the great are dumb.
Copyright © 2018
Young Writers Society
All your bananas belong to me.
YWS logo created by Jordan Bobo
Header images ©
About / Info
Become a Supporter
Hosting by YWS
Forums & RPG
Cover Art Creator
Poetic Lines Gen
Story Theme Gen
107,414 Literary Works • 571,341 Reviews