• Published 3rd Feb 2019
  • 20,270 Views, 3,199 Comments

A Crafter's Dream (Discontinued) - ruthim345



It'd been years. Years since the war. Steve was the only one left. Everyone else was gone. He lived, he fought. Rinse, repeat. All he wants is a second chance. And now, he'll get his chance.

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Bye

This story started with a dream.

The dream of a young, stupid boy, who just wanted to write about Minecraft and My Little Pony.

.

A Crafter’s Dream, was my crutch.

A way for me to get past every dreary day of school. I would look forward to the comments, good or bad, that my story would rouse others to say.

But that time has passed.

This story isn’t what it used to be, just as I’m not who I used to be.

And I don’t

I looked forlornly at the computer screen as I wrote. I didn’t like what I was writing, but I knew it had to be said. I rub a tear from my eye.

“Now’s not the time.” I muttered, to no one in particular. I put my fingers to the computer keys, but they don’t move. Eventually, I grit my teeth then sighed, leaning back. “How?” I muttered. “How do I tell them I’m giving up.”

“You’re not.”

I sigh again, then turn around. There, sitting on my bed, is Steve. He’s not real, of course, just a figment of my imagination, but he sure looks real. His jeans look rough, and I can see the pale, scarred, flesh barely visible from his shirt sleeves and collars.

“Oh really? How do ya figure?” I ask, shoving my frustration down.

He shrugged. “Well, like ya said.” He spoke, standing up. “This story’s been dead for a while, right?”

I nod, hesitantly.

“Well, then you’re not giving up. A doctor stops working on a body when it’s dead, because what’s the use? You’re doing the same thing. You’re not giving up, you’re just putting your story, my story, to rest.”

“But, what about the few people who still read it?” I ask. “There are still people-”

“What do you want?” Steve asks, cutting me off.

“Huh?”

“What do you want?” He reiterates. “Because you’re the author. It should be your call whether to continue this story or not, not someone else's. What do you want?”

I turn away from him, turning back to stare at the words on the computer screen. For a while, I don’t answer, mulling over my words before finally responding.

“I don’t get any enjoyment from writing this anymore. I just don’t.” I run a hand through my hair. “So, I guess to answer your question, I don’t want to continue this anymore.”

“Well then, that’s your answer.” Steve replied, grinning.

“But it’s not that simple!” I argue.

“Isn’t it?” The Crafter responds, stopping me short. “Because to me, it seems rather simple. All you gotta do, if you truly want to, is to end it on your terms.”

“But, but, but what about all of the stuff I had planned. Onyx’s death, you fighting Discord, you finally realizing why you and Herobrine look so similar, all of it? What do I do about that?”

Steve put a hand on my shoulder, though I couldn’t feel it. He grinned down at me, a sincere look on his face. “You put that to rest to.”

I look at him for a moment before sighing and closing my eyes. When I open them again, he’s gone.

I sit there for another moment before getting up from my seat. Putting on my hat, I make my way to the door. Upon opening it, I take a step forward, but stop and glance back at you.

I smile.

“Thanks. This is Ruthim345, signing off for the last time.”

I go to leave, but stop once again. I glance back at you one last time.

“But you can call me Alex.”

And I’m gone.

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