There are many expressions relating to the words "open" and "eyes". For example, to have an "open eye" can mean simply that one pair of your eyelids are raised and you are no longer staring at your inner darkness, or it can mean that you have a particular lack of regard, or in other words, don't care, for making your own choices. To "open one's eyes" can, again, mean to simply raise one's eyelids, yet it can also be used to express someone who is only just beginning to see or realize the truth about something. So you see, the words "open" and "eyes", when put together, can mean any abundance of different things, so you should always make sure to recheck your context analysis before continuing on with your book.
I have to admit; I never thought I would experience anything having to do with opening eyes ever again.
Yet, here I was, opening my eyes, and blinking around the well-lit room that I found myself in.
My immediate reaction was that I was somewhere in the Afterlife. This I discarded after only a few seconds of thought. The gods, like everyone else, would've been far too prejudiced against me to allow my soul to stay in such a nice place. I was somehow, miraculously, still in the first world, and some very naive person had somehow decided to take me into their own house and somehow restore me back to health after my previous disastrous battle. Of course, they had probably thought I was Steve. Imagine their surprise when they found out who I really was.
If you don't know who I am (which is practically impossible because if you are currently reading this journal you must at least have a guess at who I am), then I will waste no time in informing you. I am Herobrine. Yes, I'm that spooky ghost of a legend who haunts your Minecraft servers and sends all those mobs after you. Hate me if you want, but I do you much more good than harm. Without my monsters and the items they drop, you couldn't possibly get through the game.
Minecraft is my home, and has been my home ever since that unfortunate incident in the Equestrian mineshaft. Therefore, when I heard someone was plotting to destroy it for good, I wasted no time in going after them and defeating them. That is, trying to defeat them. Five years and I still have not succeeded in my task. However, Minecraft has been here for longer than 303 promised it would, so you at least have that to thank me for.
I don't think of myself as particularly arrogant, and I have no shame in admitting that my nemesis is a lot more powerful than I am. Sure, I have balls of fire and armies of monsters and armor made of strange material nobody's ever seen before, but he can do things that I could never dream of. He can kill people with words. Words. Those useless tiny black scribbles on paper. All he has to do is write out the strange sequence "/kill_Herobrine" in the air, throw it at me, and boom! I'm dead.
It's very annoying. Especially when he does it so quickly I barely have enough time to teleport away and it grazes my shoulder or chips at my foot. It doesn't kill me, but I won't be able to use the limbs that it touched for weeks.
And the last battle we had, it hit me directly in the chest. Which should have killed me, but for some strange reason, didn't. All I remembered was blacking out and now I was waking up in this small wood-and-stone room and trying to figure out where I was and how much time had passed since my last encounter with 303.
The room that I was in was actually quite large, compared to the tiny houses the villagers were fond of building. I was clearly in the hands of a player. I counted at least eighteen glass panes as I looked around it, every one of them pouring in bright sunshine. Beyond the windows I could see the edges of a wide wooden balcony, or "deck" as some people prefer to call it, perfectly level with the tops of the trees. Three doors framed the space, two facing the north and the biggest part of the deck, and one directly behind me and facing the west, undoubtably to give the inhabitant a clear view of when the sun was setting and it was time to sleep and escape the monsters. In the corner farthest away from me was a large hole in the floor, out of which I could just see the top of a staircase emerging.
My chest still ached horrendously from the blow I received, so I decided against trusting my teleportation abilities and instead climbed out of the bed I was in and made my way over to the stairs. I could barely feel my feet and every step felt like they were glued to the floor, but I wanted to find out who was holding me captive. Walking down the stairs, I found myself in an even larger room, made out of the same materials and just as sparsely decorated. There was one small door facing the west, two large doors facing the north inside a mini hallway, a few chests, a crafting table, a furnace, lots of windows, and a table and chairs. But what surprised me most was who was sitting at that table.
It was an Enderman.
At this part in the story it is my firm belief that my mind had not at all fully recovered yet, because I was instantly stunned. It did not occur to me that this long-limbed black creature might be a pet kept by the real owner of the house, or even that it had simply snuck in and was sitting there just because. I immediately assumed that this Enderman had built the entire house and had been the one to rescue me. And, assuming this, I was at a complete loss for words.
The Enderman glanced over, saw me on the stairs, and muttered some mangled form of "good morning" before returning to its task of staring out the west window. Even though mobs aren't supposed to be able to see through windows.
Completely bemused, I stumbled down the rest of the stairs and towards one of the glass panes, hoping to catch a glimpse of my reflection just to see how beat up I really was. The sunlight was far too bright, however, so the only thing I could actually make out were two glowing white shapes, which meant my eyes, at least, were working.
Shaking my head, and earning a brain-splitting headache in return, I walked over to the Enderman and tried to see what he was looking at out the window. All I could see, however, was the fence of a garden and the trunks of the many nearby trees, so after a while I diverted my attention from the scenery and onto the Enderman himself. He in turn shifted his head to stare at me, and we continued staring at each other with our creepy eyes until the west door swung open and in walked a peculiar-looking dog and a person with navy blue hair.
Author's Note
WARNING: This might turn into a Twibrine story.
I don't understand why I ship her with all of my favorite villains.
And why the name for the ship always starts with "Twibr".
*facehoofs*
