watch me die and come back again.

inspired by watch me die and come back again by kill michael!
this character is named haunt and he's feline, hence my use of "paws" instead of "feet." it didnt exactly come up very clearly in this so here's what he looks like

tags: minecraft

You cannot remember the first time you died. You can’t remember how old you were (or how old you even are now), can’t remember how it happened or what it felt like.

Your memories are lost, but they still exist somewhere.

The first time you died was to a group of monsters. Nothing dramatic or impressive, just the result of being unprepared and overwhelmed. It was a skeleton’s arrow hitting your venom-weakened body that did you in. You managed to hide away after the flint buried itself deep in your shoulder, but the blood loss and venom ticked away at your health until you finally passed out and died unconscious.

Except-

Except.

You awoke with a sharp gasp, sitting up in the bed you’d only made a few days ago. Torchlight flickered on the rough cobblestone walls of your house, but daylight was slowly creeping its way in through the windows.

You died. You swore you had died.

I died.

Pushing the covers off and swinging your legs over the bed felt wrong. Standing on unsteady paws felt wrong. Reaching over to feel for the wound that killed you and finding only a small scar breaking your coarse fur felt wrong. Your insides weren’t twisting with venom. Your body wasn’t battered and aching. Everything felt normal, save for the nausea suddenly making its way up your throat and sending you careening towards the packed dirt floor.

When you woke up again, you were still on the ground. This was comforting, actually, and so was the ache where you’d been pinning your arm down for an undetermined amount of time. The pain was welcome. You gingerly pushed yourself back up to your paws and looked around at your house now filled with the light of late morning.

You could feel pain, and time seemed to be passing, so you didn’t think this was some sort of afterlife. You must have made it back home and forgotten, then. You were just messed up from the stress; everything was fine.

Everything was fine.

You would continue to die and come back again. Enough times that you couldn’t delude yourself into thinking your survival was just that- survival. You were dying and coming back again.

You stay out too late or stray too far into the dark- a zombie or a skeleton or a spider attacks you. Die, come back again.

You don’t watch your surroundings closely enough and trip straight into a ravine. Die, come back again.

You run out of food. Die, come back again.

You eat the wrong food. Die, come back again.

Even as your deaths become fewer and further between, the knowledge hangs over you, an ever present reminder that you will die and come back again. You will feel your life slip away over and over, just to wake up in the last bed you claimed with a lurching feeling in your chest. Your blood will spill and your body will break and your mind will warp until you’re numb to it. Die, come back again. Die, come back again. Die, come back again.

Die. Come back again.