Abolish Herobrine

Drunk

Apologies for long absence. Posting one of the chapters written previously but disregarded. But posting it now since nothing new showed up to replace it...

34 Days Ago

"This is n-not real... B-better not be... Ugh!.. It is?"

Steve pulled back his hand with a hiss. The flames burning his field and fence were not an illusion. Helplessly lowering his torch, Steve glanced around himself with a lost look, swaying quite a bit as he stood on the path leading to his cabin. So much work... All gone! Dismay and then anger swept through him, washing away the earlier elated mood.

Bright embers flew past Steve's face as he turned and searched the darkness of surrounding forest. He could distinctly feel his visitor's presence nearby radiating a dark, vengeful mirth.

"I k-know you're here. H-hhherabra-a..." His tongue felt thick in his mouth, refusing to pronounce Herobrine's name.

"Hmmm." A huff sounded from the side. Spinning and immediately swaying on unsteady feet, Steve squinted at his white-eyed twin casually leaning against the front porch beam, his arms folded across his chest. Amusement fought with disgust on his face as he regarded Steve with visible disappointment written all over his face. Steve grimaced, his eyes turning blurry with tears.

"W-why? Just... why?" Steve's voice turned into a hurt, slurring whine. "W-what did I... even do to you?... For you... to do this..." Steve gestured to the burning field. A fence log crashed to the ground just then. Steve stared at it briefly, recalling how he had carefully cut and trimmed each one, smiling as he did the work that would last him years. Turning back to Herobrine, he saw the faint guilt cross his twin's face before it was firmly banished, replaced by stubborn resentfulness.

Steve couldn't understand the reason for it. It was as if Herobrine was punishing him for something. Why was he so mean again? After their short exchange a week ago, Steve had dared to hope that they reached an understanding of some sort. And now it was back to this?

"I worked for 'ours on that... Its ruined n-now!" Steve could barely keep himself from crying.

"That's it?" Came Herobrine's wry voice. Steve blinked at him in confusion. "You are not going to stand up for yourself? You look like you're about to cry... I have never met a player... a mortal as weak and pitiful as you. This is pathetic."

Herobrine made a huff and leaned his head back against the wooden beam.

"Where is your sword?" A note of exasperation slipped into Herobrine's strangely mixed-up mood. The tints of it changed too swiftly for Steve to make out with his ale muddled mind.

"Why? 'M not gonna f-fight you... I said this before..." Steve lowered his eyebrows in resent. Herobrine's lips twitched.

"Fight?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Right now, you couldn't fight a baby creeper... If it wasn't for my servants, you'd be dead by now."

"What?... Oh..." Herobrine meant that Steve could have been ambushed by mobs on his way home. He... didn't even think about that. He was sure he'd be safe. His sword? Where was it?

Steve tried to summon it to his hand and stared blankly at his calloused empty palm, before his eyes turned to the ground. Did he drop it? The dirt path overgrown with tall patches of grass and flowers swam in and out of focus in his vision.

Steve swayed a little, his gaze growing unfocused as he tried to recall just what did he do with his sword. And then a brief image came.

He stood with one foot on the bench and another on the table, very long and lined with dishes and containers of food. Several faces held turned toward him, intently listening with interest, while others looked toward the crowd on the streets, where many town residents were jovially clapping in tune to music as others danced.