My name is Sami.
I came across Minecraft at the age of 9 from my big brother. He taught me the controls, carefully, patiently, and lovingly.
At the time, we were both rookies. My brother, being 13 years old, suffered from autism. He was slow with learning, but he was still a loving brother and he cared for me a lot. We started by making dirt houses in random forests, losing our way, and then building a new one. Then we found our old dirt house, and took it down. Then we learned that trees could be hacked down, and started making wood houses instead of cheap dirt ones.
The discovery of Too Many Items was introduced, and we had fun spawning chickens (at the time we thought they were ducks) everywhere as well.
But one day, as my brother and I were coming home from school, discussing Minecraft, he was hit by a drunk driver. A flash of purple particles shimmered through the air, reminding me of the scary Nether Portals my brother sometimes made. I was reminded of the time where we died three times in a lava lake trying to collect enough obsidian to create a house of Nether Portals.
I dragged him to the sidewalk and mourned. I begged him to please press the "respawn" button over and over again. He lay there like a limp ragdoll, bloodied and disfigured. My parents thought I was becoming a psychopath.
So they had a funeral, cremated him, game me some ashes, and told me everything was alright. At night I would see the silhouette of a blocky character in the window, peering in at me. Sometimes I would see a chicken (I still thought it was a duck) toddling among the oak trees. And then my parents sent me away.
At the asylum, I was horrified. I was convinced these blocky things I was seeing were real. As much as I told them to listen, they would just stop and say, "This will only hurt for a moment," and then press a button and terrorize me as much as possible. They wanted to get this "imagination" out of my head.
I got sick. I had been diagnosed with cancer.
And then I fell into a coma.
I told my brother to respawn.
And in my coma, I was in my very own silence, my world, where my brother HAD respawned.
We were in the world of Minecraft, where roses and dandelions grew among the tall grass.
And that little spot on the sidewalk where he died? Recreated as a Minecraft scene.
Except here, instead if despair, I found happiness.
I came across Minecraft at the age of 9 from my big brother. He taught me the controls, carefully, patiently, and lovingly.
At the time, we were both rookies. My brother, being 13 years old, suffered from autism. He was slow with learning, but he was still a loving brother and he cared for me a lot. We started by making dirt houses in random forests, losing our way, and then building a new one. Then we found our old dirt house, and took it down. Then we learned that trees could be hacked down, and started making wood houses instead of cheap dirt ones.
The discovery of Too Many Items was introduced, and we had fun spawning chickens (at the time we thought they were ducks) everywhere as well.
But one day, as my brother and I were coming home from school, discussing Minecraft, he was hit by a drunk driver. A flash of purple particles shimmered through the air, reminding me of the scary Nether Portals my brother sometimes made. I was reminded of the time where we died three times in a lava lake trying to collect enough obsidian to create a house of Nether Portals.
I dragged him to the sidewalk and mourned. I begged him to please press the "respawn" button over and over again. He lay there like a limp ragdoll, bloodied and disfigured. My parents thought I was becoming a psychopath.
So they had a funeral, cremated him, game me some ashes, and told me everything was alright. At night I would see the silhouette of a blocky character in the window, peering in at me. Sometimes I would see a chicken (I still thought it was a duck) toddling among the oak trees. And then my parents sent me away.
At the asylum, I was horrified. I was convinced these blocky things I was seeing were real. As much as I told them to listen, they would just stop and say, "This will only hurt for a moment," and then press a button and terrorize me as much as possible. They wanted to get this "imagination" out of my head.
I got sick. I had been diagnosed with cancer.
And then I fell into a coma.
I told my brother to respawn.
And in my coma, I was in my very own silence, my world, where my brother HAD respawned.
We were in the world of Minecraft, where roses and dandelions grew among the tall grass.
And that little spot on the sidewalk where he died? Recreated as a Minecraft scene.
Except here, instead if despair, I found happiness.
TT2000, you are genius.