by Cube Kid
The only real villager diary is Diary of a Wimpy Villager.
If you see a book titled 'Diary of a Crazy Villager', 'Diary of a Super Happy Villager' or 'Diary of an Endervillager', well, just know, it wasn't written by me.
And if you see 'Diary of a Diaper Villager', well, that's just crazy.
SATURDAY
Today, my dad made me go fishing with him.
After yesterday, I must have used up all of my luck, because I only snagged junk. Sticks, sticks, and more sticks. And bowls, a leather boot. Even another fishing rod.
Probably someone had had just as much as luck as I was having, tossed the rod in and called it a day. That was what I felt like doing after I reeled in a bone.
Beyond that, today was uneventful. I didn't do anything else. Didn't practice. Didn't talk to anyone about any projects or ideas.
Didn't even see Stump, as his parents were making him help out with baking a big cake for the mayor.
My parents didn't really say much about my building achievement. They're farmers. They figure I'll become a farmer just like them.
I've never told them about my dreams.
I'm not sure what my dad's reaction will be if he ever finds out.
But then, I'm exhausted. Worrying about the future is for another day.
As the square sun sank into the blocky horizon, I curled up on my bed with my favorite history book.
It was written by some old villager from a distant land.
Sounds boring, right?
Well, this is Minecraftia. In this world, even history can be pretty entertaining.
Besides, the guy who wrote it was a warrior villager. The only one in history. After he took up the sword, his village exiled him forever, and he wandered the land like Steve.
I flipped to the chapter on legendary mobs.
Some were downright scary, such as Mungo the Overlord.
According to legend, Mungo is the freakiest zombie pigman that ever lived. He's as tall as any enderman, and wields two enchanted gold swords. One in each hand.
Long ago, before I was born, he singlehandedly destroyed a village almost as big as ours.
I know, it sounds like something Max would make up, right? But it's all right here in this book. Us villagers never go into the Nether, and tonight, I'm super thankful for that.
He's so big, his swords look like little toys in his huge, meaty mitts.
Once per year, he leaves the Nether and roams through the Overworld, hunting for noobs and warriors alike. He's so big, he can swallow a creeper whole (and he's so strong, he'll survive the explosion—the worst damage being a bad case of gas. The history book literally describes Mungo's huge farts after he ate a creeper. No, my friends, don't ever stand downwind of Mungo after he's devoured a charged creeper. It won't be a pleasant experience.)
While reading that history book, I couldn't help but think about Steve.
It seems like forever since I last saw him.
What happened to him?
I hope he comes back soon.
SUNDAY
This morning, we had visitors. They weren't outsiders, though. They were other villagers. A lot of them, too, at least twenty.
It caused a huge buzz in the village; other villagers have visited us before, but never at a time like this, what with all the mob attacks recently.
The elders told us that they're just tourists, traveling around. I'm not so sure. I mean, if they were just traveling about Minecraftia, they'd look a little happy, right? Smile. Wave. Greet us. Right?
Not them.
They were obviously sad. They just stared at the ground, their faces gloomy. And the elders ushered them all into the village hall.
Hours later, our builders made them a brand new house. A house big enough to hold all twenty of them. The 'tourists' only seemed to get sadder at this.
I don't know what's going on with them, but Stump and I think they're not tourists at all.
But our mayor, he assured us that they're really just travelers.
There's nothing to worry about, he said.
Things are totally fine, he said.
Everything is absolutely, positively cool and okay.
He said that last sentence with a huge grin and two thumbs up—while standing in front of these people:
There's nothing sad about them at all. See, the father on the left, he's just stunned at how awesome our village is. His daughter? Well, those are tears of happiness, nothing more. As for the mom, she's only worried because she forgot to feed the dog before they left.
Totally.
At least, something like that is what the mayor wants us to believe.
No, something weird is going on.
I tried talking to that crying girl today, but the elders won't let anyone go near that newly built house. It's really quite mysterious.
Of course, I asked the guards at the door why I couldn't go in and say hello to our new guests. They're tourists, right? I should welcome them, right?
But the guards said, "They're exhausted from traveling. They need to rest. Please come back later, Runt."
Hmmmmm.
I will get to the bottom of this.
Detective Runt is on the job.
MONDAY
School was fairly standard today.
Let me skip past all that and just say . . . Steve came back.
I ran into him after school. He was walking down the street. Slowly. And the look on his face . . . I'd never seen him like that before.
"Steve!" I shouted, running up to him. "What happened to you?"
He coughed, shook his head.
"I . . . need some water," he said. His voice was raspy.
He looked tired. Beat up. As if he'd fought Mungo the Overlord for days and finally emerged victorious.
"Follow me," I said, and led him back to my house. I gave him a bucket of milk and two loaves of bread—fresh out of the furnace.
He chugged down the whole bucket, glug, glug, glug, then wolfed down each loaf in a few bites. It seemed like he hadn't had any food or water in days.
After, he rested his back against the wall of the living room, closed his eyes, and slid down against the wall.
"Steve," I said. "Answer me, hurrr? What's going on?"
"My base," he said. "It's gone."
What? From what I understood, his 'base' was his main house, a really nice one. He had a lot of houses scattered out there, in the wilderness, but his base was the best one.
"What do you mean, gone?"
"Just gone," he said. "Everything I had is all gone. My base, gone. My houses, gone. My diamond tools, enchanted armor, and rail system. All gone."
"How? Who did this?"
And suddenly, I thought I knew the answer.
It was Mike.
He's like the evil version of Steve.
But what Steve said next really surprised me.
"The mobs," he said. "They came in the night. Zombies digging through dirt. Creepers, exploding. Enderman, tearing apart cobblestone. They destroyed everything I had." He paused. "I died again, Runt. I died several times in fact. And every time I died, I kept going back. Kept trying to retrieve my items. Kept trying to save my house. . ."
I said nothing, only waited for him to continue.
My thoughts raced, however. How could the mobs get Steve? He said his base was indestructible.
"I've never seen the mobs act like that before," he said. "Finally I ran. Ran as fast as I could."
Hurggg.
This is bad.
"I'm homeless now," Steve said. "I can't believe this. I don't have anywhere to sleep. I don't even have any food."
"No matter what," I said, "you'll always have a home here. My parents will let you stay with us. I'm sure of it. Don't worry, okay?"
"Really? I won't stay long. Just let me get some items again." He sighed. "This means I'll have to punch trees with my bare hands, craft a wooden sword . . . I'm a noob all over again."
"Here," I said. "Take my w
ooden sword. You helped me craft it anyway, remember?"
"All right." Steve stood back up, grabbed my sword with one hand, and wiped sweat from his face with the other. "I'll be back. I've gotta go speak to your mayor."
After he took off, I glanced out at the field, at my parents.
They were working the soil, as always.
What was the best way to tell them about Steve? They might not like the idea of an outsider staying in our house. But it's Steve. How could they say no?
Moments later, I heard a distant scream.
I ran into the streets to see what was happening.
Another outsider was running through the streets. He looked terrified.
I'd never seen him before, but I knew who it was.
Mike.
"Hey, kid!" he said, approaching. "Listen, I'm sorry about what I did to the farmer guy, but listen! Something crazy is happening!"
"Let me guess," I said. "The mobs destroyed your house."
He gave me a strange look.
For some reason, he calmed down a bit.
"Well, yeah. Anyway, can I stay here? I don't wanna go back out there."
I returned his weird look. "Hurrrn, do I look like the mayor to you?"
"Right. Um, can you take me to him? I'll go to jail. I'll do whatever you guys want. Wash dishes. Milk cows. Whatever. Just don't send me back out there. Last night, I was attacked by about a hundred zombies."
And here I thought it was going to be an easy week.
A week of relaxing, eating ice cream, and taunting Max with my building score.
If the mobs really are becoming as hostile as Steve and Mike claim, our villagers might have warriors sooner than the elders think.
I nodded at the outsider in the red shirt. I shouldn't be nice to him, after what he did to Bub.
Whatever. I'll let the mayor decide.
Besides, from the looks of it, he's a warrior just like Steve.
I think we're gonna need all the help we can get.
BOOK 3
Do you want Book 3 to be available for free?
As before, if Book 2 gets 50 reviews, Book 3 will be free for five days! I'd set it free for longer, but five days is the maximum time Amazon will let anyone set a book free.
By the way, you should leave positive reviews for any book you enjoy (not just mine).
This is how you support authors of books you like!
Oh. If you didn't enjoy this book, feel free to leave a negative review (just know, I'll probably cry huge ghast tears).
As promised, this book will be available free (again, for 5 days, that's the longest I can set it).
If you have a friend who picked up the first book, tell them to get on Amazon and get this one for free ASAP!
If you left a review for the first book, THANK YOU! I appreciate the support! Book 3 is coming soon!
—Cube Kid
Table of Contents
TUESDAY
WEDNESDAY
THURSDAY
FRIDAY
SATURDAY
SUNDAY
MONDAY
BOOK 3