Minecraft: 50 Unofficial Minecraft Books in 1 (Minecraft Diary Deal, Minecraft Book, Minecraft Storybook, Minecraft Books, Minecraft Diaries, Minecraft Diary, Minecraft Book for Kids)

by Billy Miner

  “Okay.”

  Jonathan went downstairs and helped his mother out. After a half hour, they were done and Jonathan was allowed to go upstairs again. He looked for another book.

  Hey, that one looked interesting, “Moral Mayhem.” What would this one be about? Jonathan had bought a lot of these books at a discount but never got time to read all of them. He was such a bookworm that he found deals for cheap books everywhere but couldn’t find the time to read them. Some of the books were hundreds of pages, so it always took a day or two to go through them. Saying that, he was a pretty fast reader though.

  He took the book off the shelf and opened it up. After looking at the title page for a few seconds, he began reading the first chapter.

  Emily had a hard decision to make. Every decision would lead to something bad. It was a dilemma. Desperately and fatigued, she cried out to the heavens and asked for guidance. None came. But she couldn’t let both of those women die. They had both been good to her and none of them deserved that fate. However, she was running out of time. If she didn’t decide fast, she would lose… the… one… o… r… th… e…

  And Jonathan was out. He even snored a little as his head dropped on this new book he had never picked up before. He found himself in the middle of his hometown; after all the previous dreams, it was as if he knew what was coming. Another book, another lesson, and another adventure awaited him.

  He looked upwards.

  “Hey, what the…?”

  A book fell out of the sky on his head.

  “Ouch!” Jonathan said.

  “Couldn’t you have come in a different way?” Jonathan asked.

  The book didn’t say anything.

  “Come on. I know you can talk. Say something.”

  The book didn’t respond. Instead, it took out a brush from behind its back and began to paint in the air. It was like magic. There was no canvas, no paper… it was as if there was an invisible surface the brush’s paint would stick to. The book painted and painted, and a beautiful image appeared in front of Jonathan.

  It was like a comic but without words.

  “You must be the book of pictures,” Jonathan assumed.

  The book painted a smiley. Jonathan figured that probably meant “yes.” Again, the book painted in the air. Beautiful colors contrasted grey areas, swirly backgrounds, and static perspectives. Jonathan had never seen such a talented painter in his life. The book was amazing at what it was doing. After some time, it was using pencils, aquarelle, oil paint, and even airbrushing effects. The book painted green hills, colorful rainbows, elaborate landscapes, and breathtaking sunsets. They were perfect.

  But then something interesting happened. The book handed the main brush to Jonathan and made a gesture that he should start painting as well. Jonathan looked a little embarrassed at first. He didn’t consider him to be an artist. But when he looked the brush and then at the book, he understood that the book was trying to tell him that as a writer, you should paint an image for the reader to imagine. Jonathan looked at all the details the book had added and learned the true meaning of creating a world out of one’s imagination.

  He took the challenge and began his painting. Amazed at the fact that the paint stuck in the air as if to an invisible canvas, he became more excited and created the image of a little monster.

  The monster looked creepy and green, but it was smaller than one of those exploding creepers he had heard about.

  Suddenly, the little monster stepped out of the painting.

  “Hey, how did you become alive?” Jonathan asked.

  Soon after that, to his disappointment, he found out that the little creature was a mischievous little bugger, trying to cause chaos wherever it went.

  The little green monster laughed with a voice like a shriek.

  “Heehee!”

  It kicked over the bucket of paint and slammed the poor book to the ground. Then it ran up against Jonathan’s body and started stomping on his head.

  “Stop that!” Jonathan yelled.

  It jumped off and ran into town.

  “Hey, come back!”

  “Heeheehee!” the little creature said as it ran away.

  “I have to follow this thing,” Jonathan said. “Something is telling me he will cause a lot of trouble.”

  The book seemed to agree.

  Jonathan ran after the creature. It was terrible. The little stinker knocked over people’s food stands, went inside buildings and made things explode, spat water from the fountain at the most prominent citizens in town, and raced through buildings, causing them to collapse within seconds.

  This little monster was more powerful than he thought it would be.

  “Heehee!” the green little thing said again.

  “Get over here!” Jonathan yelled.

  “You want me?” the tiny beast asked suddenly, stopping his messy behavior and grabbing a hammer in the corner.

  “Wait, I didn’t know you could talk too,” Jonathan said.

  “Who cares? You want me, right? I’ll make you a deal. I will stop destroying things if you take this hammer and bash this wall.”

  Jonathan looked at the hammer. Where did this naughty creature come up with such a deceitful plan? It seemed so simple. The green monster was faster, so it sounded like a good deal, if it would keep its promise.

  But then Jonathan looked at the wall. It was the princess’ courtroom wall, the hideaway for summer vacation. Jonathan knew that the princess would come here every year to spend the few best months of the year. The palace looked precious and expensive. It looked like one of those multi-million dollar places that had been cherished by many and filled with pleasant memories. Jonathan had even met her a few times and had to admit that he had a little crush on her. They had played in the garden twice and Jonathan was hoping for her to come back soon.

  “No way,” Jonathan said. “That’s the princess summer home. I can’t just do that. First of all, I’ll be arrested. And secondly, the princess has always been good to us. She doesn’t deserve to have her summer home destroyed. This place costs a fortune. It will take so much money and labor to build it back up again. Look at all the details and patterns. People have spent years to build this place.”

  “Then I will continue to destroy things,” the creepy monster said.

  “Wait,” Jonathan said. “Do you really promise that you’ll stop breaking things if I break this one wall?”

  “Sure, but it has to be that pillar over there actually.”

  Jonathan looked at the pillar the monster was pointing at. It was holding up the rest of the palace and if it would crumble, the whole palace would fall apart. It just wasn’t an option. It was a decision he didn’t want to make.

  “Nooooo!” Jonathan yelled.

  He woke up. He was glad he didn’t have to make such a tough decision anymore: Breaking the sweet princess’ summer palace or allow the little monster to destroy other buildings and monuments around him.

  When Jonathan contemplated his dream for a while, he realized that details make a story more interesting, and that emotion drives the motives of both the main characters as the readers. He learned something new about writing, and his lessons weren’t over.

  Chapter 5: Book of Sounds

  Another day, another book. Jonathan was looking forward to reading more after school. He was counting the minutes as he watched the clock on the wall in the classroom. The lesson was boring again. He was tired of information and wanted more imagination. The two can and should co-exist, but one without the other is just fluff, or so he figured.

  Class was over. The bullies were too busy with taking on other kids. Jonathan snuck out the backdoor and ran home.

  Screeech!

  A giant wagon with horses almost hit him.

  “Oof…” Jonathan sighed. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

  The rustling leafs on the trees, caused by the strong wind, created an autumn setting that added to the beautiful colors of the season and the soft
sounds of dripping gutters after a rain shower. Footsteps by common passengers echoed against the walls of the village and a remote thunderstorm was heard in the background, emanating from the mountains.

  Jonathan opened the door and shut it quickly.

  Bang!

  “Jonathan,” his mother said. “Take it easy on the door. You don’t have to break it.”

  “Sorry, mom.”

  He put his backpack on the floor and ran upstairs. Immediately, he grabbed a book and started reading.

  In each corner, there was a mouse. “Squeak squeak” the mice said as they surrounded the cheese, hungry for more. One of the mice jumped in front of the cheese, ordering the others to stop and consider the danger. “But we’re hungry,” one of the mice said, attacking the cheese abruptly. SNAP! The mouse got caught in the trap… and… the… o… t… h… e…

  Jonathan experienced the same thing as before, but he didn’t care. The words began to swim in front of his eyes; then the letters, and eventually it was pitch black.

  “I’m waiting for you, book!” he shouted in the vast nothingness, hearing his own voice echo against a closed space. But suddenly, it all went away.

  Boooooom!

  The black walls around him exploded into a million pieces until all he saw was white. Great, another wall, but white.

  Whoooosh!

  The white wall got swept away by a huge tornado.

  Plof!

  Jonathan landed on the ground in a jungle forest. He looked around him and saw a tiny village in the distance with Indians in it. They were dancing and singing while they were beating drums. Jonathan started walking to the village, but then, another book flew in front of him.

  “I knew you’d show up,” Jonathan said. “Which book are you?”

  The book stopped and fell on the sand.

  Poof!

  A cloud of dust evaporated from the impact. The book stood up (as far as books can stand up) and approached Jonathan with elegance.

  “I am the book of sounds,” he said proudly as he tried not to sneeze. Too late. “Haatsyoo!”

  “How can a book make sounds?” Jonathan asked. “You do reading with your eyes.”

  “Ah, but you don’t understand, do you? Sound effects are crucial if you want to tell a good story. Filling in the actual sound of the words is up to the reader. Use your imagination and put as many sound effects in your stories as you can. It’s all a matter of writing it. You don’t have to be a perfectionist. There are no rules, only guidelines.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” Jonathan said. “Can I go to the celebration now?”

  “Of course,” the book said. “Celebrate your heart out. Have fun and don’t forget to make some noise.”

  “I will!” Jonathan said as he ran off to the villagers.

  Jonathan asked them if he could join them, and they were very welcoming. Some of the men showed him how to do a “tribe dance” and some of the women put garlands around his neck. Boys were putting paint on his face and arms, so he would look like one of them.

  After an hour of dancing and singing, he asked if he could play the drums.

  “Of course,” the answer was. “Sit down here and start banging away.”

  It was one of those drums where you had to use your hands, a percussion instrument the Indians in that region used a lot. Jonathan sat down.

  “O boy,” he said. “This is going to be fun. Here we go.”

  Bam! Bam! Bimpatee bam!

  He banged his flat hands on the drums and sang at the top of his voice, but as he kept going, he started to notice that the other Indians were putting their fingers in their ears. The music stopped. People stopped dancing. The only sound left, was Jonathan’s amateurish performance.

  Bang! Bam! Boong! Boing! Beebibeebang!

  Jonathan was having a blast. But then it got through to him. He was really bad at this. Nobody liked it.

  “Let me show you, boy,” the Indian next to hem said. “You are missing some pieces of information. The trick of drumming like a pro is to have a consistent beat, not just start banging away.”

  There it was again… that word… information… Jonathan had been so focused on imagination that he forgot to apply some helpful logic and knowledge. He didn’t know what he was doing and it sounded terribly. However, he was willing to learn and watched closely while the Indian showed him the ropes.

  Bingbabang! Beebeeboing! Bingbabang! Beebeeboing!

  It was a constant rhythm, which sounded like a real drummer. It was great! Jonathan would have never thought that putting the notes in such an order would stir up so much energy inside of him.

  “See?” the Indian said. “Now you try.”

  Jonathan sat down. He tried to remember how it went. Then he started.

  Bingbabang! Beebeeboing! Bingbabang! Beebeeboing!

  “Awesome!” some of the Indians said. “You are getting the hang of it. You have talent, man! Keep up that beat and we can continue to dance.”

  One of the girls from the tribe came to Jonathan.

  “Hi there, I think you’re a really good drummer,” she said as her face got a little red. Then she giggled and jumped away, joining the others in their dance.

  The celebration went on for another half hour, but suddenly the joyful party was interrupted.

  “Grrrrrr!”

  The Indians were startled by a loud growl. They looked around, making an attempt to find out where the sound was coming from. Then they saw it. A big black panther had entered the village area and was slowly walking towards the people who were celebrating.

  “Eeeeee!” the girls and women screamed as they ran inside their tents.

  “Grab the spears!” one of the men said.

  Each male Indian turned into a warrior by getting a weapon and threatening the black panther. They made noises to scare it away, hoping that their bravery would prevent anyone from getting hurt.

  “Awaah! Awaah!” one of the men shouted.

  “Ooeeeh!” another one yelled.

  Jonathan stood by and looked for an object to defend himself with. Hey, what’s that over there? He walked to a glimmering object, partially lying underneath the side of one of the tents. It was a gong, one of those giant round cymbals they use to bring everyone together for a meal or a meeting. There was a large stick next to it.

  “This may come in handy,” Jonathan said.

  He picked up the stick with his right hand and held the gong in his other hand.

  Boooooing!

  The sound was soul-piercing and loud, filling up the air with penetrating waves of noise, causing the Indians and the black panther in its immediate environment to shake like pudding. The panther got startled; it was afraid. And when Jonathan hit the gong a second and a third time, the beast decided to give up. It ran away and made a sound like a cat being stepped on.

  “That solves that,” Jonathan said.

  The warriors looked at him. They were happy and relieved.

  “That was amazing!”

  “Good job! Thank you for rescuing us!”

  Suddenly, Jonathan woke up.

  “This was a great dream,” he concluded. “I don’t mind having more of those. I can see how all the sounds make a difference in a story. They make it more animated and alive. Thanks for showing me this, book of sounds.”

  Chapter 6: Book of Symbols

  That same night, Jonathan decided to pick up another book. It was called “Shields of Valor.” He thought it sounded pretty adventurous, so curiously, he opened the book looked at the pictures. Knights and monsters were displayed on several pages, but most pages had no images, leaving every word to be interpreted by the reader and plenty of room for one’s imagination.

  “This looks promising,” he said.

  He began.

  Stratus, the knight, had not been longing for the shedding of blood, but when the anarchy became more intense, he had no choice but to pick up his sword and pledge allegiance to the flag of their castle. He vowed right ther
e and then that he would defend the fortress against intruders of any kind, human or other. However, when he opened the gate, the… mon… sters… w… e… r… e…

  For the fifth time, Jonathan fell asleep with his face on his book. He loved what he read, but the words just made him sleepy. He couldn’t help it.

  When he looked up, his room was gone. All he saw in front of him was a small forest. Behind him were rolling, green hills and pastures. Of course Jonathan expected another book to show up. It didn’t.

  He decided to walk through it. It looked tiny anyway, but the trees were blocking what was behind them, so Jonathan was wondering what he would see after the last tree. It only took him 20 minutes, and before he knew it, he was looking at a giant castle.

  “It’s the castle from the book!” he exclaimed.

  “No, it’s an even better one,” a voice said above him.

  Jonathan looked up and saw a book sitting in a tree.

  “Why is it better?” Jonathan asked.

  “Because it teaches you the meaning of pictures.”

  “But I already dreamt about the book of pictures,” Jonathan said.

  “Not just any pictures,” the book said as it flew down and hovered in the air in front of Jonathan. “Pictures with meaning… icons… symbols… do you know what those are?”

  “Of course, just like the signs in traffic or the symbol on the bathroom that indicates whether it is for ladies or gentlemen.”

  “There. I knew you were a smart kid,” the book said. “I am the book of symbols, and I will show you how many times people use symbols to attach a feeling or emotion to something. Let me ask you something. What do you think of when you see your national flag?”

  “Oh,” Jonathan says. “Things like nobility, honor, freedom, the beautiful scenery, the map, the people in our country, goodness, those sort of things.”

  “And yet it is just a few colors thrown together in a certain shape. The symbol by itself doesn’t mean anything, but people have cried when seeing the flag because they attach a certain feeling to it.”