----] Chapter 1 [----

5.1K 186 47

George opened his eyes to see the normal yellow-gray color of the grass, dotted with a few blue cornflowers. Many of the people George has met have said that the grass is green, helping him conclude after multiple long trains of thought that he may be colorblind.

He looks around, spotting a small birch forest, with a lot of dull-colored flowers. A small smile on his face as he starts walking toward it, getting ready to start the new world he has been dropped into.

George stood a few feet away from the white and black tree. dreading what he had to do, he always hated the beginning of the world. He took a look around, looking for the familiar gray stones of gravel. He spotted some near a decent sized lake, a small smile on his face as he got closer, 'Nice!' He mentally spoke to himself. As he was digging through the gravel, looking for the semi-shiny black flint, he could see fish darting through the depths of the lake.

George felt his face light up as he found a clump of the rocks together, combining a small amount of the rock with one of the sticks he found close by

With his new-found tiny dagger, he started swiping at the grass, cutting up the yellowish plants. The plant fiber that was dropped was combined and used to make a string-like substance, which George used to make a small flint hatchet, his spirit-lifting. He jogged over to the tree, his hatchet in hand.

George tightens his grip on the handle of the hatchet, swinging it behind his head, quickly snapping it forward to make a mark in the tree.

George kept chopping at the tree until the tree started tilting toward the left, its dirty-yellow leaves falling toward the ground. He stood for a bit, catching his breath before chopping up the log, sticking the wood into a small pouch-like bag on his hip. The wood shrank as he put it in and became weightless, like the sticks and flint in the pouch already.

George continued chopping the trees in the forest down until he was out of breath and the sun was directly overhead. He sat down, moving his hand in the air in the shape of a small 'C'. A small menu popped up, and he set the wood he collected on the crafting menu to form a crafting table.

A small shining blue light covers the menu and in the woods' place stood a crafting table. George grabs the item and swipes the menu away, a small smile on his face. He stands, heading back toward the spawn, his almost broken hatchet clutched in his hand. The yellow-gray grass of the plains crunched under his feet as he scoured the area for sheep. He spotted a group of around 3 sheep huddled together eating the grass. 'Score!' he thought. George walked over to the sheep and swung his hatchet a few times, the sheep he hit exploded into a puff of smoke, dropping some mutton and a bit of wool. He continued 'killing' the sheep until not one was left.

The sun was starting to set over the horizon, so he headed back to the spawn. As George set down the crafting table, he saw the sun starting to set in a yellowish gradient against the blue gradually getting darker. He smiled as he crafted a bed using the wool and wood he collected, setting it down next to the bench. George looked at the sky as he laid down on the comfortable white bed. 'Day one in this world went surprisingly well.' He thought as he drifted off into a slumber.


[614 words]


Thanks for reading!!!

I Guess It Could Be Worse... {Dreamnotfound}Where stories live. Discover now