by Mark Mulle
hoping that by doing so I would be able to throw off his aim with the arrows. Barron is an excellent swordsman, but he has not yet perfected the skill of archery. This was the fact that I knew well.
He hit me with one arrow and missed with several others. My confidence rose and I continue to rush toward him. I did not have any weapons, but I could fight him with my bare hands if I needed to. All I could think about was how close I was to the festival. How close I was to being home and being with my family. I could not let Barron stand in my way.
At the last moment, as we finally came close enough for hand-to-hand combat Barron made a move that I was not prepared for.
He switched to his sword in a blink of an eye and before I had time to react, I had disappeared into a cloud of dust.
I did not even bother dropping a spare bit of meat. I was too flustered, too distracted by the fact that Barron had thwarted me yet again.
All was darkness until night fell, and here I am, yet again searching for my way home. Following the moon, and wishing that I will see a familiar landscape in time to attend the festival.
Day 3:
Tonight I have nothing much to report.
The most interesting part of my recent journey was that I fed a pig a carrot that I had found. They like carrots.
I spent all of the sunlight hours bobbing in the water waiting for the moment when I could continue my search for the zombie village.
Afterward, it was simply hours, upon hours, of following the moon.
Day 4:
Another encounter with Barron was narrowly avoided because I happened to spot him building a watchtower on the edge of the forest.
For a moment my heart raced with fear. But then, I realized that if Barron was nearby then the village must be also.
Though Barron’s skill was great, I doubted that he would have traveled very far from his own home in the recent days.
I had to be careful as I followed him back toward familiar territory.
In no time at all I started recognizing the shape of the land and the plants in the area. Before Barron had a chance to notice me, I slipped off behind a vined jungle tree and crept in the opposite direction.
He never suspected a thing. At least, that is what I like to tell myself when I am feeling particularly stealthy.
A short distance later I entered the tunnel, a hidden tunnel that made its way underground through a series of winding passageways.
For someone like Barron, or any daywalker for that matter, these tunnels would be extremely confusing. Many of them led down treacherous paths, some connected to an extensive series of caves and tunnels, and some lead nowhere at all.
The trick to finding the zombie village was to always take the third passageway on the left side. If you follow this rule in every single hallway, and by that I mean at least 50 times, you would find our village.
As it was, there has never been a non-monster who has made it so far into our world.
Day 5:
I have been walking for what feels like ages, but has really only been a single day. I know that the village is getting closer but the impatience is driving me mad. I am still a young zombie, I am not very good at waiting.
It has been many months since I have journeyed this far underground. Normally, I live in a tiny cave with my parents and seven siblings, but for the festival everyone will make the trip all the way to the village. Those who are old enough, will attend the festival while the younger zombies will remain in a smaller cave that is nearby.
Day 6:
Today I finally reached the village, and guess what!
There is still one more night of the festival left!
The moment I entered the massive cavern, whose ceiling dripped slowly from the ocean floor that rested above, my little brother ran up to me with a look of pure excitement on his face.
“Big D! Big D,” he cried.
Big D is what he likes to call me and if you haven’t figured out why, I can explain. My name is Damien and, as I said earlier, his is Devon. I’m older and I’m also bigger. So it really is not that complicated, if you think about it.
All right, back to my story.
“Big D! Big D,” he cried. “You almost missed the festival.”
“I know, little man.” I ruffled his hair with one hand as we walked together into the massive crowd of zombies, spiders, skeletons, endermen, and even a few witches. “I’m here now.”
“Was it that mean daywalker?” Devon attempted to make his voice sounded confident but I could hear the note of fear that quivered on its edge. “Did that Barron get you?”
I nodded. “Yeah, he got me, but I made it back just the same. Just like I promised you.”
“I’m glad because mama said it could take weeks for you to make it home.” Devon’s lower lip jutted out. He was not old enough to venture out on his own. Instead, the younger zombies often stayed around their parents, or hidden in caves for safekeeping. “When I’m big like you, I’m going to be able to get home fast too.”
I laughed and guided him through the heavy crowd.
“When you are older,” I told him, “you can do anything you set your mind to.”
“What are you going to be now that you are grown-up?” He asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. My father always said that every zombie has a purpose. That we all have something that drives us. I had yet to discover what my driving force was but I knew, without a doubt, that one day I would find it.
Day 7:
The festival last night was amazing. Magical. Almost beyond words.
I cannot believe that I am telling you this so soon, but I have found it! I have found my drive! That one thing, that one goal, that every zombie has to work toward.
Every year at the end of the festival the oldest, wisest Enderman tells a tale that he thinks is important to our history. Every year the tale is different, or at least it has been for the 3 years that I have been present at the festival.
This year, we have a new Elder and he had a new story.
The words that he used were magical and I felt as if I could not stop listening. It was as if, what he was saying was meant for me to hear. Was meant for me, and me alone.
Of course I cannot remember the exact words that he used, but I will try to repeat his tail as closely as possible.
This is what the Enderman said:
A long time ago, so long that history has forgotten, there existed a daywalker named Herobrine.
Nobody knows if Herobrine really existed, or if he was made up as a tale to help little monsters sleep at night, but we Endermen believe that he did.
To truly understand Herobrine, we must first understand where he came from.
Every creature in this world knows that the first daywalker was named Steve. What many do not know is that Steve had a brother.
Nobody knows his true name and nobody knows exactly how it was that the brothers began to argue, but they did. It is likely that their argument started from some simple brotherly issue, but over time the issue grew so that there was very little that they agreed upon.
The brothers, who had once loved each other, grew to have a fierce war. A war that would take over our world.
Steve, was fascinated with collecting treasures and gathering items that would make him the wealthiest and most powerful daywalker in the world, even if that meant battling the creatures that lived in it.
His brother, on the other hand, had dreamed of something more peaceful. He wanted to create an alliance with the monsters. He was the first, and only, true friend of our people.
Steve banished his brother. He told him never to return and, though deep down they loved each other, the brothers never spoke again.
When this happened, the brother took a new name. He began to call himself, as we know him now, Herobrine.
Many of the daywalkers will tell you that there is no truth in the story. That Herobrine does not exist, and never has, in our world.
We Endermen believe otherwise. We believe
that he was a great hero who wanted to build a peace between the monsters and those who walk in the daylight. We believe that he had the power to build this friendship. We believe that there are signs that he does, or did, exist.
He is the only daywalker who can also be considered a monster. Legend says that when he took his new name he joined our forces and vowed to help us in our battle against the enemy.
It is said that Herobrine himself will track daywalkers and purposely try to confuse or frustrate them. He does this because he wants them to see that even creatures of their sort can cause problems. Can be villains.
We monsters believe that he is one of the greatest heroes of our world. That he believes in protecting and defending all species of monster even though he was not a monster himself.
While those who came into our world after Steve have followed in his footsteps we, the monsters of this world, follow Herobrine.
I had never heard of this creature before and, I must tell you, I have never been more excited my life. I cannot explain why, but I know that this story means something. I do not yet fully understand it, but I can feel it in my very bones that this is my purpose.
Day 8:
I woke up this morning with a ringing in my ears that I can only explain as excitement. I rushed through my morning chores and raced out into the village hoping to find an Enderman that could answer my questions.
Most of the city had already emptied. The festival was over and some monsters had a very long way to go on their journeys home. The Endermen could teleport though, so I hoped that that would mean that one or two of them would stick around a little longer.
As
