I do the natural, instinctive thing. I run. I hurdle down my one-way mineshaft and block myself into a little stone cubby-thing. I have a feeling this will not be the first, nor the last time I have resorted to this crude survival. I force myself to breathe deeply and ground myself. Suddenly I feel another flashback coming on, but I squeeze my eyes hard and force myself to stay in reality.

Grounding myself is a technique I used in my early survival days. I have already used it once today, and I have already flashed back to the first time I used it. It is where I plant my feet into the ground and feel every detail of the surface under my feet. The stone is cool and hard. I use this, and something familiar to tether myself and force myself to think clearly. My boots, as before, are what suffice to ground me.

Breathing deeply, I open my pocket belt and display all its contents before me. Two full compartments of stone, and twenty-two additional blocks of andesite and granite assortments. A log, a nearly broken stone pickaxe and wooden sword, one stick, and some lily-pads and dirt. Not off to a promising start, I think. 

Separating my log into planks, I craft a single table and chisel out a block wide space in the wall to place it. Opening the crafting table up I realize yet again I haven't thought ahead properly. I don't have the materials to make an iron sword. Frowning and pulling up a furnace, I chisel another opening up and place my iron oven.

As I open up the oven, I realize yet again how stupidly I've wasted materials. I have no fuel for my single iron ingot, and even if there was it still wouldn't be enough for a sword. My plan is, yet again, bunk. Gah, I think, why can't I sort out my thoughts properly and do SOMETHING, ANYTHING useful! I get ready to throw my only stick into the furnace before pinching myself. I am not making the same mistake again.

Okay, I sort through my brain, night lasts four hundred and eighty counts*. So I just count four hundred then tunnel my way from here back to the surface and collect more wood before I go back into my mineshaft and place torches and clear out all the monsters. I nod contently. I have made a good plan. Finally, I think. I begin my slow count.

Three hundred ninety-eight, three hundred ninety-nine... four hundred! I begin mining the blocks directly above me and consequently jumping and placing dirt underneath me as I go. Fifteen blocks of stone and dirt later I emerge in a bright, late morning environment on the island next to the island my bunker is on.

Wading over to my Island, I notice that my bunker looks relatively undisturbed. Creeping in, I throw open my single chest and take out seven coals. I place my furnace in a nook and fuel it up. Already I can reach into the fuming oven and take out a perfectly squared ingot of smooth, shiny iron. 

Next, I open up a crafting table and graft some twenty-four torches, leaving me with no more coal. I light up my bunker, and, reaching for my pickaxe, I nod approvingly. Now, all I have to do is kill some sheep and I'll have a qualifying starter base, I conclude. Stepping into the warm, afternoon light, I can't help forgetting my troubles for just a second and basking in the familiar feeling from seemingly long ago.

I am home in a sense. This is where I had truly become myself, and now I am being forced to rediscover who I am again without a profession, home, friends, and safety. But I'm still desperate to find my friends and go back to Prisseters, even so. 

Prisseters might not have been right for me right away, but now it's was the only place I feel is right for me. With it's bright streets and large, open mines just outside it's walls. And it's thousands of people and businesses. Sure, I might have lived most of my life alone, but I'm really more of an extrovert, even though I'm much of a big city busy life person, I guess I've involuntarily become one.

Let's go find some sheep, I grin and vault out of my bunker, heading into the unknown. Yet again, S had forgotten to plan and prepare. The counts were ticking down swiftly, and with no material for a shelter - it was back to the good old days for S. And unless S did something about it fast, there might not be a return from them.

Minecraft Words

* - Count, Second

Author's Note:

You probably won't be seeing many 'Minecraft Words' sections, but I didn't want to use seconds or too much to tie it to real life, so I devised 'counts'. Most people would pretty much get that right away but I had to be sure. Because I'll probably use this term again.

Also I did not invent how many seconds day and night last. I did the hard work of using a calculator and that's actually how many seconds night lasts. For any hardcore survivalists: your welcome.

Prisseters. Prisseters. I just remembered that name that I came up with months ago. I hope it was the city in the FanFiction, because if it wasn't then I'm sorry Zharu (other minecraft story main character I created)

I am making a full (maybe four-fifths) commitment to grammar and spelling, because as I reader I know how awesome I am being right now.

EDIT: I added a drawing of S to the top of the chapter, but her blonde-brown hair turned out way to orange and the belt made her look like Alex. Oh well.