He could feel himself start to dissolve into 1’s and 0’s as the Source converted his code to something else. Squeezing himself tighter, he let the Source convert him faster and faster. The smallest flicker of fear drifted through his mind, but he pushed it aside.
“I can do this,” he said to no one. “I know myself.”
“I can survive this,” he said louder.
“I am Gameknight999, the USER-THAT-IS-NOT-A-USER.”
And then darkness claimed him.
Gameknight felt cold. His arm was slightly numb with pins and needles prickling his nerves as blood flow gradually returned to it. Sitting up, he stretched is aching back, sore from being hunched over for so long. His cheek felt hot and a little numb, like how it usually felt after he had fallen asleep at his desk in history class. Reaching out, he stretched his arms wide, then rubbed his cheek, the feeling slowly flowing back to the side of his face.
It was dark and cold. He felt as if he were underground somewhere and an icy, damp feeling chilled him to the bone. Stretching out his right hand without thinking, Gameknight reached forward, not sure why. His hand bumped into something hard, its sharp edges scratching his fingertips. Reaching for the switch that he’d flipped a thousand times, he turned on the desk lamp, spilling light into the room. Looking at the lamp, Gameknight999 could see that it was made out of old jet engine parts, all of them welded together in a complicated spiral pattern that looked like a mechanical tornado; it was a creation his father had called the CFM56-lamp—he still had no idea what that meant.
The desk lamp . . . his father’s desk lamp . . . he was back at home!
Gameknight stood up and moved away from the desk. Spinning, he looked suspiciously at the digitizer. All the lights were off. The angry buzz of hornets was gone and the thing looked dead.
Good!
And then the sounds from some silly carton creatures singing an annoying childish song filtered down into the basement and Gameknight smiled. He was home . . . he was really home.
“Mom, Dad, Lil’ Sis . . . I’m home!”
Looking about the basement, he saw the corner where he’d hid from Erebus during that terrible dream, the old cracked mirror still leaning against the wall . . . he shuddered, but then smiled.
He was home, he was out of Minecraft, finally.
Taking two steps toward the stairs, he paused and turned to look back at the computer. He could see an image of Minecraft on the screen, his character frozen in place AFK, but surprisingly enough, he could also see images of his friends. Crafter stood next to his character’s side, his small hand resting on Gameknight’s shoulder. Next to him stood Herder, the lanky boy giving him a huge smile, one arm raised up in a wave. On the other side of Crafter were the sisters, Hunter and Stitcher. Though their vibrant red hair didn’t have the same curly look to it, the locks flattened against their Minecraft skin, it still glowed a warm crimson, their smiles warming his heart.
These were his friends, his closest friends. And he’d formed these friendships not by being a griefer, not by trying to be a tough guy, not by bullying someone else, but by just being him. Gameknight smiled and felt a tear roll down his cheek.
“My friends,” he said aloud to the empty basement and smiled again. “I’ll be back to visit you soon, I promise.”
Moving back toward the desk, he reached out with his hand, stretching his arm to touch the monitor. Gently he brushed each of their faces with his now round fingers as more tears trickled down his oval cheeks and smiled again, then turned and headed to the steps and up the stairs.
“Sis’, I have something to tell you!” he shouted as he took the steps two at a time.
What Gameknight hadn’t noticed on the screen was a figure off in the distance, a dark ominous figure that stood behind an oak tree, the leaves of the tree all turned to ash and lying on the ground in little decaying piles. The figure had a malicious smile on his face, like that of a snake about to strike its next victim. But worse of all were his eyes . . . they glowed bright white and lit up his vile face, filling it with a hatred that seem to be focused directly toward the center of the screen, toward Gameknight999.
And then he moved, and a sound came out of the computer’s speakers.
“I’ll be waiting for you Gameknight999, waiting right here in Minecraft. And when we meet again, I will exact my revenge and finally escape this prison.” And then he laughed a maniacal laugh that would have made the whole world cringe before disappearing, leaving behind the leafless tree as a dreadful omen.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
The Gameknight999 Series has obviously been about something that my son experienced in Minecraft, but it is also about something that I had the misfortune of experiencing all throughout elementary school; bullying. I was bullied as a kid and for me it usually happened at the bus stop. The bigger kids thought it was funny to pick me up and put me in the big trashcans, or take my hat and play keep away or throw it into a tree, or . . .
I hated riding the bus!
But then I met my friend, Dave, who lived up the street. We would walk to school instead of taking the bus, and that solved the problem . . . or so I thought. The bullies were still at school looking to cause mischief, especially at recess. Sometimes I would take a book out to recess, sit under a tree and read, but being alone on the playground just put a massive bully-target on my back.
Staying alone doesn’t solve anything! I learned that the hard way. Make some friends and be with them. This might be difficult for some because making new friends can seem scary. Well, then this is the first dragon you must confront. Be brave, focus on the now, and ask them what they like to do. You’ll be surprised at how much people like to talk about themselves, and this can help you to find common things of interest, like Gameknight did with Shawny. In no time, you’ll find some new friends to be with.
My parents never knew that I was being bullied when I was younger because I kept them to myself, not wanting them to get involved, but that was wrong. Suffering in silence didn’t help to solve the problem. In fact, it made it last longer and made it feel that much more terrible. You see, when you feel like you are suffering and alone, then all you have are the thoughts within your head for company.
And worry has a way of feeding on itself and getting bigger and bigger.
If you are being bullied . . . staying silent is exactly the wrong thing to do. Tell someone you trust, a friend, a teacher, a minister . . . anyone. If you can’t do that, then turn to paper and pen as I did and write about it. Put your feelings on paper. It’s surprising how much it will help. Write your own Minecraft story about bullying, or about eating disorders, or about not fitting in . . . or whatever is bothering you.
Silence doesn’t help!
You have to confront your own dragon in order to get free, but not with violence directed at someone else, and especially not with violence directed at yourself. Hurting yourself or hurting others accomplishes nothing; it just makes more people suffer. You have to realize that many people feel bullied, or feel inadequate, or out of place, but when people stay silent, it creates the impression that you’re the only person going through these challenges, and that’s wrong. There are people around you going through the same thing.
You are not alone!
Know your enemy and know yourself—if you are staying silent, then they are the same person.
Be strong, speak out, don’t be alone, and watch out for creepers.
Mark Cheverton
Confronting the Dragon Page 28
