The Hollow Mountain Journals P1

Deviation Actions

KleinerKiller's avatar

Literature Text

The following has been extracted from the journal of the late Blake Gladesmith, and as such, may contain disturbing content. The nature of the phenomenon surrounding the "Hollow Mountain" area has not been ascertained, and as such, no dedicated investigations are currently possible. Gladesmith's words have not been altered for this viewing.

Day One: The Village

One day in, and I'm already hitting my stride!

Okay, technically this is my second day in uncharted territory, but it's not like I could have gotten anything accomplished when I arrived. If I recall, it was close to sunset when I crossed from my homeland to this server. I'd heard the hisses and howls from town before, but up close, running to any semblance of shelter with my heart almost exploding in my ears? Not a fun experience.

Listening to 'em through a block-thick cobblestone wall? Now that's a hell of a thing.

I should back up, I know. When I spawned here -- still not something I'm used to, considering how few life-threatening scenarios I've been placed in since my youth -- I landed right next to one of those primitive merchant villages everyone likes to swindle emeralds from. Being a man of class, I did no such thing. Not that anyone reading this could prove if I did, anyway.

Despite looking like half-finished clay sculptures with eyes as big around as my fist, the villagers were actually very pleasant and hospitable people. They didn't lift a hand against me when I started holing up in one of their empty houses for the night. One of them even smirked at me when I nabbed a couple of things from his storage chest. I think it was a smirk, at least. Hard to tell with those folks. I managed to craft a bed out of some wool blocks I found (don't ask me why they didn't have beds; I've never seen one even blink, let alone sleep), and I settled in for the night.

Peculiar thing happened the next morning, though. When I woke up, there were -- swear to Notch -- four villagers gathered around, kind of huddled together between my bed and the door. All they did was stare at me with those big saucer eyes, grunting out one of those ear-killing "hrrmmmm" noises every couple of seconds. And then, and I couldn't make this shit up if I tried, two more shuffled in and took places so they all got a nice view of me. This couldn't have barely been a three-by-three room, and with my bed taking up two blocks, it was six people gathered in a straight line so tightly it looked they'd fused.

After I pushed through the congregation and convinced myself that nobody was about to carve the sign of Herobrine into my forehead, I started gathering the materials for my own little shack. All I had at the time was my bare hands, so I could only take down some doors, pull oak planks out of the walls, and loot the chests and crop fields. Yeah, it was a selfish move, but it wasn't so much that they couldn't rebuild in a day. And I got a nice iron helmet and chest plate out of the deal.

Then came the point where I had to harvest the cobblestone that now shields me from the night's terrors, and to do that, I needed to do what they taught us in school: punch some trees. The romanticized version of this would have me cleanly splitting the lumber into even blocks, no trouble. Since I'm the only guy who'll see this, I have no trouble admitting that my knuckles looked like bloody pincushions by the time I hauled the first load in. Luckily for me, I managed to gather enough for some rudimentary tools, including a sword, a pick to crack open harder substances, and -- thank Notch -- an axe with which to facilitate my slow stripping of the server's lumber resources.

Once that was all done and over with, it was easy to craft the beginnings of my first shelter. The room I'm currently sitting in is about five blocks by seven, three blocks high, and composed entirely of cobblestone. With a wooden door at the entrance, my bed in the far corner, and a couple of crafting appliances scattered along the wall, I've got myself a fairly standard Minecraftian dwelling. Once I get to the plans I have in mind... well, let's just say that a lot of the headlines back home are going to contain reference to 'Blake Gladesmith.' That'll be the day.

Incidentally, while harvesting the cobblestone, I spotted quite a few interesting sights. I've marked them on my map, and I'll explore them in further detail when I'm prepared.

That about does it for tonight's entry. I'm turning in.

Day One: Addendum

Oh, mighty lord Notch, have mercy on my soul.

It was just a couple of things I took. I had no idea... I wasn't thinking. I'm responsible for this. This is my fault. THIS IS MY FAULT.

... We learned in school about these things called "zombie sieges", where a great bunch of zombies swarm together and rush a village, banging on doors and being general menaces until the sun roasts them to ashes. Normal zombie sieges are victimless, I was told, unless someone is stupid enough not to seal their windows and keep their doors firmly shut throughout the night.

I took the doors. I took the walls. NOTCH. 

They're looking at me through the panels in my door. I can see their gangrenous skin and tumored noses all the way from my bed. Those fucking eyes... I know they aren't sapient anymore, but I feel like my very soul is being picked apart by them. And the worst part? I recognize some of the faces. The ones staring at me earlier, crowded into the house I'd commandeered. They knew. They KNEW what I was going to force upon them and they just... let it happen.

I don't know what to do.

Day Two: Out of Sight, Out of Mind

I went back to the village today. It goes without saying that it was uninhabited at this point.

I picked apart what I could from the abandoned remnants. Nobody was around to stop me, and I didn't have to feel like too much of a bastard for taking things. Got a load of cobblestone, planks, and food. It seems like I'll have to make my own glass if I want windows, because the pre-made panes shatter like... well, glass.

There were piles of rotten flesh lining the streets, baked by the harsh sunlight. I ignored them.

At this point, I have to confess something to myself: what I did next was premeditated and without remorse. I did it out of sheer necessity for my own continued sanity, not out of honor or respect for the dead. Disconnecting myself is the only way I can keep from dragging my sword across my own wrists, so if someone else ever reads this, please know that I also didn't do this out of sick pleasure.

With my recently-crafted stone tools, I started mining in a large gravel pocket nearby. Mining gravel is tricky business; the focus is less on cracking the block like any other, and more like sifting through it until it decides to crumble. Experienced miners can cleave through miles of gravel in minutes, but I'm just starting out. And it would appear that I've started to write myself on a tangent, so I'll cut to the important part.

After some digging, I managed to acquire a flint. From that point, crafting a lighter was almost comically easy. With said lighter in hand, I ran back to the village and... unloaded, if you will.

The flames took time to spread over what remained of the village, and I had to stand and watch until they extinguished themselves. The destruction was uniform, leaving almost no trace of inhabitants other than the standing well, crop fields, and a couple of persistent blocks that I hadn't the time to break. I had essentially cast an enormous eraser over the spot where a self-sufficient society once stood.

I... I have to forget about this. I have to make myself forget about my horrible lapse in judgement. It's my second day, for Notch's sake. Got to get back on the miner's high, or else I'll wallow in directionless misery for the rest of my short life. I have my plans, I have my goals, and I have the means to follow through with them. That's all that matters.

In the morning, I'll set out to my first destination. May my luck be fairer there.
I'm back to writing! For the foreseeable future, at least. My scholarly paper is nearly in the completion stages, so I'm starting to get more free time. Plus, it's a holiday, so you know how that goes.

This is the first "chapter" in the series I've based on my Minecraft experiences. Each post will contain multiple entries, cutting off wherever I see fit. I apologize for the short length of this one, but it's 2:00am and I felt like finishing up.

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED: Everything, aside from the obvious backstory and emotional details. I crashed in a village, stole some shit, witnessed the villagers becoming zombies, and torched the village with a flint and steel.
© 2014 - 2024 KleinerKiller
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
StitchedSmile1's avatar
Next time, on The Walking Dead Minecraft addition. XD
Nice Sben. It had a bit humor to it, well the main character. But that's good, I hate to serious. Also if people were starring at me through my shit... well fuck I'd leave right away. XD