Published Dec 18th, 2011, 12/18/11 4:26 pm
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I made this in about 5 minutes, I was bored today. I've showed it to a few people and they say it's great, so, here it is. May I present:
Leave a diamond if it's good.
The creeping
The creeper was coming. Steve heard it as he lay, immobile, in the mouth of the cave. He could taste bitter dirt in his mouth. The creeper was coming. He gazed into the darkness of the yawning abyss, then let his eyes flit over to where the creeper trod. He must choose. Quickly. The creeper was coming. Slowly, silently, he let his hand slide into his inventory. He felt the handle of his splintered wooden shovel. He must choose. Which fate would he rather? Choose. Quickly. The creeper was coming. As he heard the soft, deadly hissing of death from behind, he knew what he had to do. It was his fate. His destiny. His purpose. He would die for nobility, for justice, for vengeance. The creeper was here! He staggered upright, and whipped around to face the creeper, his broken shovel shedding splinters into the soft morning grass. This was crazy. Insane. But Steve was a warrior, a survivor, a fighter. He swung his shovel around, and felt grim satisfaction as he heard a dull smack and a cry of hissing pain. He could feel his lust for revenge boiling in his veins like the hottest magma, and, the thought of his ruined home in his mind, swung his shovel around once more. His mistake. His final mistake. He heard the creeper hiss it's final hiss, and Steve knew he was going to die. He knew what to do. This was the end. The end of his story. His purpose. He tossed his shovel aside with contempt, and watch it fall into the soft, dewy, beautiful grass. Then, raising his arms, he charged the creeper. Clasping it in a death grip, his eyes misted over as he bellowed a battle cry, plummeting him and the creeper down into the heart of the abyss.
-Squidfather
P.S. Steal this and you're dead.
WORSE THAN DEAD
Leave a diamond if it's good.
The creeping
The creeper was coming. Steve heard it as he lay, immobile, in the mouth of the cave. He could taste bitter dirt in his mouth. The creeper was coming. He gazed into the darkness of the yawning abyss, then let his eyes flit over to where the creeper trod. He must choose. Quickly. The creeper was coming. Slowly, silently, he let his hand slide into his inventory. He felt the handle of his splintered wooden shovel. He must choose. Which fate would he rather? Choose. Quickly. The creeper was coming. As he heard the soft, deadly hissing of death from behind, he knew what he had to do. It was his fate. His destiny. His purpose. He would die for nobility, for justice, for vengeance. The creeper was here! He staggered upright, and whipped around to face the creeper, his broken shovel shedding splinters into the soft morning grass. This was crazy. Insane. But Steve was a warrior, a survivor, a fighter. He swung his shovel around, and felt grim satisfaction as he heard a dull smack and a cry of hissing pain. He could feel his lust for revenge boiling in his veins like the hottest magma, and, the thought of his ruined home in his mind, swung his shovel around once more. His mistake. His final mistake. He heard the creeper hiss it's final hiss, and Steve knew he was going to die. He knew what to do. This was the end. The end of his story. His purpose. He tossed his shovel aside with contempt, and watch it fall into the soft, dewy, beautiful grass. Then, raising his arms, he charged the creeper. Clasping it in a death grip, his eyes misted over as he bellowed a battle cry, plummeting him and the creeper down into the heart of the abyss.
-Squidfather
P.S. Steal this and you're dead.
WORSE THAN DEAD
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