3
its a house,im not sure if its good or not,its my first time making a house i need to fill up 150 words so here is a short story
It's an effort, but you manage to drag yourself to the old bar. The lock's busted - someone else must've gotten to it first, which is just as well, because you don't think you could jimmy the door open yourself in this state. Besides, you didn't come to scavenge. What for? You can almost feel your innards turning into custard from the radiation poisoning, and your legs will soon refuse to carry you any further.
Not that you'd want them to. This is as good a place as any. Familiar, at least. You used to know this place, back before the bombs dropped. Had a thing for the cute bartender, but never worked up the courage to ask them out. Kinda wish you did now. Wonder where they are now - hopefully far away from here. Far away from all this. Maybe even somewhere safe, if there's any such place still left.
The shelves are empty, to nobody's surprise, their contents probably looted over the years. Your stomach cramps, hard, and you lean over the counter to puke - mostly blood, with a few scraps of red tissue. Hello, stomach lining, fancy you to join us here. You do manage to catch a glimmer of glass under the counter, though, and you reach for it with shaky hands. Look at that, a full, intact bottle, laying there forgotten and covered with dust. You dust off the label. Bourbon. Michter's. Not bad.
Once your vision stops swimming, you decide to take a better look around the deserted bar, and spot the old vintage jukebox. Your brain must be already turning into mush as well, because you absently limp over to it and try to turn it on, wondering if it still works, and through some inexplicable miracle, it does. Or you're hallucinating, you're fine with either at this point.
"Alone, at the edge of the universe, humming a tune..."
Sure, why not.
You sit down on one of the barstools and lean your elbows on the counter, not as much for comfort as for balance. If you fell over now, you're not sure whether you could get up again, and you really don't want to die lying on the dirty floor, choking on your own puke. You open the bottle of bourbon and hope you can actually keep it down, at least long enough for it to take effect. It'd be a damn waste if it all ended up on the floor too when it survived this long.
"We'll go together in flight..."
The bottle is about half empty when you can no longer keep your head up. Your eyelids are drifting closed on their own - the song seems to be lulling you to sleep, or maybe it's the alcohol, or just fatigue. Or maybe just your body shutting down. You no longer care either way, so you let them.
"Bye, hi, sigh, Hawaii"
"We never meant to part, sublime, thy art"
You probably won't wake up again. You don't really want to.
"One light, higher than the sun"
"Invisible to some, until it's time..."
It's an effort, but you manage to drag yourself to the old bar. The lock's busted - someone else must've gotten to it first, which is just as well, because you don't think you could jimmy the door open yourself in this state. Besides, you didn't come to scavenge. What for? You can almost feel your innards turning into custard from the radiation poisoning, and your legs will soon refuse to carry you any further.
Not that you'd want them to. This is as good a place as any. Familiar, at least. You used to know this place, back before the bombs dropped. Had a thing for the cute bartender, but never worked up the courage to ask them out. Kinda wish you did now. Wonder where they are now - hopefully far away from here. Far away from all this. Maybe even somewhere safe, if there's any such place still left.
The shelves are empty, to nobody's surprise, their contents probably looted over the years. Your stomach cramps, hard, and you lean over the counter to puke - mostly blood, with a few scraps of red tissue. Hello, stomach lining, fancy you to join us here. You do manage to catch a glimmer of glass under the counter, though, and you reach for it with shaky hands. Look at that, a full, intact bottle, laying there forgotten and covered with dust. You dust off the label. Bourbon. Michter's. Not bad.
Once your vision stops swimming, you decide to take a better look around the deserted bar, and spot the old vintage jukebox. Your brain must be already turning into mush as well, because you absently limp over to it and try to turn it on, wondering if it still works, and through some inexplicable miracle, it does. Or you're hallucinating, you're fine with either at this point.
"Alone, at the edge of the universe, humming a tune..."
Sure, why not.
You sit down on one of the barstools and lean your elbows on the counter, not as much for comfort as for balance. If you fell over now, you're not sure whether you could get up again, and you really don't want to die lying on the dirty floor, choking on your own puke. You open the bottle of bourbon and hope you can actually keep it down, at least long enough for it to take effect. It'd be a damn waste if it all ended up on the floor too when it survived this long.
"We'll go together in flight..."
The bottle is about half empty when you can no longer keep your head up. Your eyelids are drifting closed on their own - the song seems to be lulling you to sleep, or maybe it's the alcohol, or just fatigue. Or maybe just your body shutting down. You no longer care either way, so you let them.
"Bye, hi, sigh, Hawaii"
"We never meant to part, sublime, thy art"
You probably won't wake up again. You don't really want to.
"One light, higher than the sun"
"Invisible to some, until it's time..."
| Progress | 100% complete |
| Tags |
tools/tracking
6102153
2
my-first-time-making-a-minecraft-house-no-download-right-now-i-dont-know-how-to-put-the-links-to-the-mods-i-use
Dandalf
ENVY Llama
star_weaver
inktilt
GoggleD0GG
ScotsMiser
Afap
LightFiendish
Julien030
toporov01![Survival cave map [schematic] Minecraft Map & Project](https://static.planetminecraft.com/files/image/minecraft/project/2024/799/17750685_s.jpg)
MazaVili
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