The True story of Disk 11: Return of Herobrine

I stumbled around in the dark as I tried to pull out my flint and steel from my rucksack. The dark expanse of the cave seemed to go on and on, yet on-wards I went. Spurred on by he promise of untold riches- an epic cache of diamonds and gold rumored to be left deep underground long ago by Herobrine- or so the story went.

With me I had new technology I had bought from a travelling trader-an audio recorder which I could use to document my journey and imprint it on a vinyl disk in real time, saving me from having to write down things in my journal.

'OOOOF!'

The impact was jarring. I looked up and could just make out the opening I must have fallen through. I saw what looked like rails of some sort at my feet. Rotting wooden rafters dangled overhead, that barely supported the weight of the roof of the tunnel.

'Ah, an old mineshaft', I thought.

The opening was too high to jump and grab. I would have to find another way out.

'Idiot', I thought. 'Why the heck did I not bring any torches.'

I finally fished the flint and steel out from the bottom of my rucksack. I pulled a loose beam dangling from the rafters down to try to light.

scrape, scrape*

The cold steel in my hand grew hotter. With the help of some kindling paper from my journal, sparks eventually turned to fire and the wood caught alight. Embers arked around me as I trudged through the dry, dilapidated tunnel.

I coughed. Then again, harder. Even with the ventilation shaft feeding into the tunnel, a smothering haze had begun to form, totally engulfing my senses. Rotten wood was not so good for burning. I covered my nose using my t shirt and moved faster into clean air. I took a turn. This corridor was full of spider webs, but the heat from my makeshift torch shriveled up the thick web and I was able to push through the sticky substance.

shroopsh*

A spider scuttled above my head. I reflexively brandished my torch in its direction and it recoiled away. A little scared, I moved even faster. I rounded a corner.

This section of the mine was different. The tunnel had led to an opening with a very high ceiling. The floor was dirt instead of stone, which I thought was very odd considering how deep the cave was. I turned to the adjacent wall.

'HOLY CRAP!', I said.

Two decomposing skeletons lay against the wall. One held a large oak chest in its lap. Tentatively, I prodded the chest with my torch, fearing that it may be booby trapped.

The dirt was swept out from under my feet.

* Crack*

'ARggghhh', I grimaced.

My ankle had broken when I hit the mossy cobblestone floor. Well, I was right about the booby trap, but I was not so lucky to fall unscathed this time. I brushed the repulsive rotting flesh and bone from the skeleton off me and dragged myself over to my makeshift torch. This area was much different from the rest of the mine shaft. It was damp, and reeked of mildew.

SWOOOSHSSSsssss

I heard a faint whooshing noise, like air on a windy day, quickly growing louder and moving towards me through the smoke. I stood up quickly despite the pain. The clink of metal against rock made me drop my torch in panic.

Oh god.

I turned my head for a split second. Glowing eyes, so bright, seared my retinas. Adrenaline took over I tried to limp away into the darkness, but I felt a strange power pulling me back.

My eyes rolled back into my head. I drifted into a dreamlike trance. Sunspots morphed into oblivion as I blacked out.

Images of the farm I always dreamed of floated in my imagination. Pigs, chickens, sheep and fluffy rabbits. And how could I forget the horses. Saddled and standing to attention in their wooden stables- which I had so meticulously constructed from the finest oak- ready to ride at a moments notice. The imagery became more real, more tangible, as though this dream was my new reality. This dream was pleasant, consisting of the nice things I felt I deserved, like tending the rabbits- much unlike the living hell of this hateful mine shaft. I thought about the children I could one day have who would share in the joys of my farm.

But it was too late now.

Pleasant farm imagery faded into depression. I begun to hear strange gravelly noises.

This was not good. I recognized that noise.

I could feel the prickly cherry bushes, from which twigs protruded like daggers, scratch my skin as I ran through my orchid, desperately trying to reach the safety of my warm, cozy farmhouse.

Fuck. Endermen. Everywhere. There was nowhere to look away.

I momentarily drifted back into consciousness, my eyes barely mustered the strength to flicker open long enough to see the blade of a diamond sword protruding from my iron platebody.

Herobrine stood over me.

'Wha- what?' I stammered weakly. A commanding figure- three blocks tall stood over me. Those fabled glowing eyes appeared soulless and unblinking.

It had been over 70 years since Herobrine had been seen. He would have had to be at least 90 years old- how could he still move with such speed and power?

"Please..." I muttered with my last remaining breath.

Herobrine drew the sword from my body and plunged it through my helmet. My corpse slumped forward, spilling the contents of my torn rucksack out onto the coal dust covered floor.

Herobrine picked up my recorder and smashed it against the wall, which ejected the now shattered audio disk.

It was over.