(( just gonna practice some description-filled writing
practice, ya know
nonsense story yo
ITS NONSENSE WITH SOME MINECRAFT REFERENCES
yey for 1 word story titles ))
She sat enveloped in the moth-bitten, fading, scarlet-colored sheets as she glanced over toward the scratched-up glass where so many monsters had clawed, banging desperately, with the sole purpose of coming in and ripping her soul from her body until they became simply charred remains that smelled putrid, like death itself.
Her humble abode was small, but very cozy. The repaired bits of the walls and floor was obvious. The bright, new birch wood was a huge contrast against the dark spruce. So many creepers before had blown it up, just hoping to maybe kill her once and for all.
Everything was one, and one was everything.
Her crafting quarters melted into the furnace room, her mine was a gaping hole in the scratched and worn spruce.
That mine used to keep her up all night. It was covered by the thick trapdoors that barred the dark from creeping in, but it didn't stop the dreams. The once haunting sounds were now her ambiance. She slept in them, and they echoed around in her dreams.
The ambiance would sing to her, telling her of her forgotten siblings, of her forgotten mother. Reminding her that she was torn apart by the seams, the cloth of her fragile fragile, fighting to stay together, coarse spider thread fighting to keep that cloth together.
And her face was now creased with age. It was no longer sleek and smooth as it once was.
But her face was now relaxed as well. No more worries, no more stress. It was ghost white, and glowed with a blue aura that lit up the darkened room.
The spiders crawled up and down the walls. She heard their scuttling, like fingers tapping at a crafting bench, waiting for the iron by the furnace. They, like her, were restless.
But she decided to wait. She would be patient and let it come to her. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, forest fires erupting from her wrists.
practice, ya know
nonsense story yo
ITS NONSENSE WITH SOME MINECRAFT REFERENCES
yey for 1 word story titles ))
She sat enveloped in the moth-bitten, fading, scarlet-colored sheets as she glanced over toward the scratched-up glass where so many monsters had clawed, banging desperately, with the sole purpose of coming in and ripping her soul from her body until they became simply charred remains that smelled putrid, like death itself.
Her humble abode was small, but very cozy. The repaired bits of the walls and floor was obvious. The bright, new birch wood was a huge contrast against the dark spruce. So many creepers before had blown it up, just hoping to maybe kill her once and for all.
Everything was one, and one was everything.
Her crafting quarters melted into the furnace room, her mine was a gaping hole in the scratched and worn spruce.
That mine used to keep her up all night. It was covered by the thick trapdoors that barred the dark from creeping in, but it didn't stop the dreams. The once haunting sounds were now her ambiance. She slept in them, and they echoed around in her dreams.
The ambiance would sing to her, telling her of her forgotten siblings, of her forgotten mother. Reminding her that she was torn apart by the seams, the cloth of her fragile fragile, fighting to stay together, coarse spider thread fighting to keep that cloth together.
And her face was now creased with age. It was no longer sleek and smooth as it once was.
But her face was now relaxed as well. No more worries, no more stress. It was ghost white, and glowed with a blue aura that lit up the darkened room.
The spiders crawled up and down the walls. She heard their scuttling, like fingers tapping at a crafting bench, waiting for the iron by the furnace. They, like her, were restless.
But she decided to wait. She would be patient and let it come to her. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, forest fires erupting from her wrists.
She was home now.