I awake to my second week in hell. My joy at actually living through a night was off-set by my oracular vision of where I was trapped. Still there was nothing to do but continue on with my plan to explore the subterranean depths. I hurriedly finished my crude home and set off once more into the mines.
I spend the day alternately mining and logging. By evening even my superdimensional pants are streatched to breaking point; turgid with wood and stone.
I retire to my shelter as night falls and craft some containers to hold my growing cache of raw supplies.
The night passes uneventfully again. I can hear them ousdie my walls and spy them through my windows (ha, windows, fucking holes I bored in the wall). But they cannot as yet reach me inside. Sleep evades me and to pass the time I construct a ladder and a balcony (supported on the air itself it seems) from which to stare out across my purgatorial prison.
I needed coal. Without torches I could only venture so far into the underground. I would have to leave the safety of my island to search out some coal deposits. Thanks to my nights efforts I now had a boat with which to surmount this dreary sea.
I sped across the ocean in my boat. Going further from my island than I’d ever been. I ventured further and further into the heartlands until at last I found an exposed vein of coal.
Travelling onwards throughout the day I discovered more coal and at one point a docile heard of cows, whom I butchered for their durable skin.
As night fell I entombed myself in a small stone grave, my only companion a lone torch (I hope I dont have to worry about carbon monoxide poisoning, though I am sorta sleepy…).
As I tried to fight of sleep (and my possibly death by asphyixiation) I tried to turn the cows skins into something wearable. But fingerless hands arent designed for needlepoint. Eventually I simply wrapped the bloody hides around me.
With nothing left to do I tried to drift off to sleep, lulled by the torches hypnotic glow and the low lullably of brains echoing from the zombies outside.
The new day was ushered in by the dawn (and a burning zombie). Evidently my undead neighbours were rather senstive to UV.
Anyway, I’d had enough of looking for coal and living in fear in hastily assembled stone tombs. It was time to go home. But here’s the thing, when youve wandered across countless blocky plains they all tend to, well, blur into one another.
I set off in what I thought was the direction of the island.
This really doesnt look very familiar to me.
Perhaps I came a different way and the island is just over that hill?
Turned out I was wrong. Now Im lost and running from skeletons in the dark.
Still lost, feels like Ive been sailing forever.
I have no idea where Im going. I know how I could get home. But all my precious coal would be gone and I dont think I can take that step yet. I cant let them kill me out of convenience. My life has to mean something…it has to.
Ah home at last…courtesy of a fucking skeleton shooting me in the face. Fucking skeleton, WHAT ABOUT MY FUCKING COAL? Still if Im going to explore I need to figure out some way of returning home intact. Im going to build a tower, reaching up to the shitty square clouds!
Listening to: Bon Jovi - Wanted Dead or Alive