Hi soooo I’m new to the DSMP fandom, but already I’m obsessed 😅 and I really like to write. So I’ve created several short stories. Gods help me…
⚠️ TW (Trigger Warning) ⚠️ : Blood, trauma, death, suicide, murder
TommyInnit’s POV
It was a grim night in the Dream SMP. Fighting had ensued the entire day, and everyone was pushed to the brink, so we had to call an overnight truce so we could all heal our injuries and recover our strength.
I sat alone in a secret bunker that no one in the SMP knew about, not even Tubbo, and tried not to think about the day’s events. As I took off my armor to clean and polish it, I felt lightning bolts of pain race up my forearm, making me have to bite my tongue so I didn’t scream. I then noticed that I had been slashed across the arm, probably with an ax, and the blood had somehow soaked through the gaps in the metal plating.
It was a gruesome sight : a deep, jagged cut crusted with dried blood and grime from the battlefield. I walked across the room, grabbing disinfectant, cotton balls, and gauze from one of my many chests. My emergency supply reserves had come in handy once again. I hadn’t even realized that I had been hurt ; I guessed that the adrenaline of battle had temporarily erased the pain so I could focus on keeping myself alive.
Once I feeling cleaning out and bandaging the wound, I brought out a bucket of soapy water to remove all of the blood, dirt, and sweat off of my armor and sword. As I left it to soak, I changed my outfit. Yet another set of clothes had been shredded to pieces. What a pity.
Fortunately, in this server, I had a million copies of the same exact outfit, including my signature red-and-white T-shirt that I had become known for.
After the soaking had taken most of the disgusting war remains off of my armor and sword, I used a clean rag to wipe the rest of it off and dry all of it so it didn’t rust. I then stored it all safely away in my Enderchest, an almost unbreakable chest that I used to hold all of my most valuable possessions. Dream would never get them out of there.
I broke into my food rations and inhaled a loaf of bread and some cooked steak, chasing it down with a bottle of water. It was rare that I could even find food like this anymore, but I concluded that I deserved it after fighting so hard all day long.
I flopped down onto my bed, exhausted. I was just about to close my eyes to sleep when I saw a smear of blue on one of my chests. I sat up and stared at it, utterly shocked that it was there. It took me a few seconds to recognize what it was, but when I did, realization hit me like a train. It was the blood of Wilbur, founder of L’manburg, and my best friend. He had snapped due to the pressure of the war, and in despair forced Philza to kill him. ‘What?’ I thought. ‘How did that get there?’
Before I could stop them, the memories came flooding into my mind : founding L’manburg ; the two of us getting exiled from L’manburg ; listening to Wilbur crying out about his “unfinished symphony” ; watching Wilbur betray all of us ; and finally, I relived Wilbur’s death. It was just as painful to watch as the first time.
I heard the sound of the sword that delivered the fatal blow clatter to the ground as Philza’s fingers slipped from the hilt. My heart sank to my feet as I watched blue blood gush from Wilbur’s stab wound, permanently staining the stone that it was spilled upon. Wilbur collapsed, making a soft ‘thud’ as he hit the ground. I heard Philza sobbing as he looked down at his hands, which were now coated to the wrist with the blood of his son. His hands raked through his hair, dying it with the substance on his hands. He had look of absolute terror on his face as he let loose a scream of agony. “WHAT HAVE I DONE?!” he shrieked into the oblivion, tears streaming down his face, as the last of Wilbur’s life force slipped away.
The memories released me from their strangling grasp. I shot to my feet, heaving in breaths. I was drenched in sweat, and my hands were buried in my hair. “No,” I said feverishly. “Wilbur’s not dead. He can’t be.” “I’m afraid it’s true, Tommy,” a mysterious voice echoed throughout the room. My mouth fell open. My pulse began to race. I brought my arms back to my sides. “Who’s there?” I said shakily, grabbing my sword. I swung it around, looking for an intruder, but no one was there. “Who are you?” I demanded. “You know who I am,” whispered the voice.
All around me, cool, gray mist swirled around me, spiraling to one spot right in front of me. I watched as the mist solidified into a semi-transparent figure wearing a long-sleeved yellow shirt, black pants, and white sneakers. A mane of ruffled brown hair poked out from underneath a red beanie. He had eyes that looked like they were full of shards of black glass. The same blue blood that I had seen in my memories flecked his clothes, hair, and even skin, dripping down onto the floor and leaving misshaped stains. I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
“It’s okay, Tommy,” said the ghost, floating closer to me. “It’s me.” “W-Wilbur?” I choked out. “W-what-“ “Shh,” he said, putting his right index finger over his lips. “I’m Ghostbur now.” “Ghostbur?” I mouthed in a daze. “Listen, Tommy, I can’t stay long,” Ghostbur said, placing his hand on my shoulder. “The world that lies beyond this one is calling for me. But I managed to come here to give you a message.”
“I made a lot of mistakes during my lifetime, Tommy,” he continued. “But the biggest one…was choosing to leave.” A strangled gasp escaped my lips, but I didn’t say anything. “I could have fixed my mistakes, returned to the right side. I became delusional, sided with the bad guys, but I could have repaired everything if I had stuck around. But I decided to die, because I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to let people down any longer.” He looked me straight in the eyes. “What I’m trying to say is that even if you go completely off the deep end, there’s still hope, however little, that you can mend everything you’ve destroyed. And whatever you do, NEVER choose to leave. It’s not worth it, Tommy. Remember that.”
My heart beat a little bit faster. Ghostbur looked out the window as if listening to a voice in the distance. “I must go,” he said solemnly. “It’s my time to join the world beyond.” “Wait,” I jumped in. “Ghostbur.” He turned to look at me, his expression calm. “I’m sorry I left you behind, Tommy,” Ghostbur said softly. “Wherever you go, I’ll be there watching. And I’ll always be here.” He put his hand over my heart. A chilling sensation spread throughout my body from the point of contact. I shuddered involuntarily, and Ghostbur withdrew his fingers. “I cannot delay the judges of the afterlife any longer,” Ghostbur whispered as he began to glow with golden light. “I’ll see you someday in our final rest.”
With a soft hiss, my old friend dissolved into swirling golden mist and faded away.
I sat down on my bed, waves of grief rolling over me once again now that he was gone. I had been in denial for so long that my feelings had welled up inside of me, and now it all exploded out of me.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, My head felt like it was splitting in two. When I opened my eyes, I saw red. Rage enveloping me, I grabbed the nearest object that I could, which turned out to be a glass vase, and threw it at the wall. It shattered into pieces, leaving a dent in the wall.
Hyperventilating, I ripped my sword out of its sheath and slashed my bed in half. Anger faded into panic. I raked my hands through my hair, feeling tears begin to form in my eyes.
Forcing them back, I slammed my fist into the wall. I gasped in agony, withdrawing my hand and bringing it into my field of vision. It had hit the blade of a battle ax that was strapped to the wall. A deep, jagged cut along the side of my hand gushed blood, but so many emotions were flooding my senses that I didn’t feel the pain.
Finally, all of the welled-up feelings ebbed away, except for an overwhelming depression. I slumped over, bringing my head to my knees. Tears flowed from my eyes, tracing down my cheeks, as my body contorted with sobs. Why? I thought in despair. Why did he have to leave me again? I hugged my knees, letting all of the pain, grief, and sadness rush out of me as I cried for the first time in years.
I cried for hours, curling up into a ball on my bed. Eventually I couldn’t cry anymore. I laid down underneath my covers, a cold determination settling over me. I would win this war. For Wilbur. I drifted off to sleep, the L’manburg anthem playing on loop in my mind.
