I can’t really remember a time when a day went perfectly. Even on days like Christmas, Halloween, or Thanksgiving, there was something that went wrong, something tiny that could mess up the whole day so I wasn’t thinking, “Oh, wow, this is the best day of my life!” There are a few days that I’d consider to be the best days of my life, but none of them stand out enough. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I naturally think on the dark side of things rather than the bright side. I think corpses rather than roses. I think rain rather than sunshine. I guess that’s my problem then. It always is.

I don’t get what my problem is. There were a lot of points in my life when I felt isolated from everybody else, as if I was alone with nothing but a desert of sadness around me. Everyone goes through that kind of stuff, right? Everyone, at one point or another, is called names and pushed around, right? Sometimes I wish I could see into other peoples’ memories just to see what had caused them to do such stupid things in life. Other times I wish I knew what other peoples’ thoughts are when they’re having the time of their life. I wish I knew the happy feeling through one whole day. Just one whole day. That is my dream; something that I can only hope will be made possible someday.

I wake up every morning to see kids walking to Middle School, their “cool” hats and “tight” jeans on. I really never got why people had to wear those to school, not to mention wearing their jeans a foot below where they were supposed to go. I’ve never been the type to wear that kind of thing, nor have I had the guts to even try something like that on. I really didn’t understand the purple and sometimes even pink shirts they put on. It seemed more than strange that they’d wear something a girl would wear. Thankfully, the guys didn’t decide to wear those neon pants that girls wore in High School. Thank God for that.

Maybe I need to lighten up on these things. Middle School was a bit of a nightmare for me when I moved from another state. It was like throwing into the dark side of the world, whereas I’d been on the bright side the other thirteen years of my life. I had really enjoyed the bright side of Earth, the side where when I fell, someone would help me. In the dark side, when you fell, you saw your own blood dripping slowly from the wound left there. No one was there to help you up from where you stood either. Poverty was something that I could see, too, and it definitely saddened me. Seeing people suffering was never a joy for me. I hated thinking of darkness. To put it straight, it sucked.

Now I lay here on my windowsill thinking of this and watching the kids with the “cool” hats and “tight” jeans on as they walk to school, preparing themselves for the next page of their story. I could only hope that the page would show them that life was far from perfect no matter where they looked. I certainly didn’t feel bad for these people when they were pushed around. They were usually the source of it. Maybe I was cruel, maybe I was thinking of corpses rather than roses right now, but I know that I can at least feel good when I think that.

To feel good is my dream. Nothing will ever change that.

“Sir?”

The voice was far off, almost as if someone had used it in conversation miles away from where the player sat. The player was too deep in his thoughts to even acknowledge the fact that there was a player standing right next to him. The boy was young, not to mention small compared to those who walked in the streets behind where the two stood. The boy had two upside-down ‘V’ shapes on either side of his cheeks. The boy simply wore ragged pants, a shirt with a vest over it, and some dreary looking brown boots. His hair was a dark blond-ish brown. His eyes, like his boots, were a dull brown.

“Sir?” the boy repeated.

It looked to him as if the player had left his monitor on, leaving him to simply sit there with the same troubled expression he had worn ever since he had entered the game. Finding a party member was always hard, especially when you were the lowest of the low. Traveling to a field alone when you were level one was suicidal, too, not to mention an easy way to get ticked off with the game.

“Oh.” The Fist Fighter looked up with a monotonous look on his face. The man bit his tongue, looking to the left, then to the right before whispering, “How long have you been sitting here?”

“About a minute, sir.” The boys’ words were clear, while his posture was almost perfectly straight like someone had a gun pressed to his back. Was this guy in the army or something? And was he supposed to be the commander? It just seemed awkward that someone new to the game wouldn’t be looking all sorts of casual while looking for people to form a party with.

“First of all, don’t call me sir, my name’s Shenmock.” The boy stiffened a little. “Second of all, there’s no need for the “straight army pose thingy” that you’re doing right there.” Immediately, the boy slouched a little. The Fist Fighter smiled. “Third and last of all, what do you want?”

The uneasy-confused-army man look immediately disappeared from his expression, replaced with a rather smug expression. It wasn’t like he had just won the lottery or anything, but he seemed satisfied that someone so high had actually acknowledged him, even if it had been a minute. “Well, sir – ”

“My name’s Shenmock. If you want, call me Shen for short. Anything but sir.” Silence. “Go on.”

“Well, I was just going to ask if you could…” The player scratched his head, searching for words. This guy was obviously antisocial if he couldn’t ask something as simple as forming a party with him. “Well, you know…” The player nodded his head a little. Slowly, the Fist Fighter shook his head, as if he didn’t understand when he really did. This guy seriously needed to overcome something as simple as this.

For the next minute that was all the player could do. The space in between each one of them grew increasingly longer, making the player turn more often to hide his obvious shyness with other people. To say the least, the Fist Fighter was amused with how the player took things, actually enjoying the one weakness the low level player had. Maybe going on the BBS would help him a little. Once the next minute passed in utter silence, Shenmock finally stood up.

“Okay, come on. Enough with the shyness, onto the dungeon and monsters.” Grabbing the player’s wrist, the Fist Fighter dragged them through the crowds, shoving past each player that got in his way. Luckily enough, none of them had the bravery to shove him back. The one that did would get a knuckle sandwich. Heh. As they approached the Chaos Gate, the Fist Fighter turned back to the player, who looked horrified after seeing the expressions on most of the players’ faces when the Fist Fighter shoved past them.

Trying to sound reassuring, Shenmock muttered, “Ignore them. Just be happy that you’re not being trampled by the crowds like most of the low level players.” The Fist Fighter gave a guilty smile. “Oh, and I forgot to ask. What’s your name?” A second passed. “And I’m guessing you’re a Heavy Blade, too.”

“Yeah, that’s my class.” He sure looked tempted to pull the blade out and swing it around, too… “And my name’s Ven, sir. Ven Sironel,” the player stated.

“It’s Shenmock,” the Fist Fighter reminded him with a scowl.

“Sorry.” The boy, again, scratched the back of his head. It seemed to be the thing that he did when he got shy. Purposefully making your character’s cheeks red was kind of stupid in his opinion.

The two turned to the Chaos Gate, which swirled around, casting its blue light around the square. Golden rings were everywhere as players transported themselves to different fields and dungeons. Each was packed to the top with treasure, not to mention monsters that were bent on killing you even if it meant their pixilated lives were taken with it. The Fist Fighter opened the menu, choosing a suitable level, one that would hopefully get the player from his place at level one to another place, someplace more comfortable for him. All the Fist Fighter could do was try to turn him into a strong player while he had the chance.

“Boundless Hopeless Aqua Field,” Shenmock announced proudly. It was a level three field, one that he thought was suitable for someone that was a Heavy Blade. If Ven was scared, it was tough luck for him. If he weren’t…well, that would be quite a surprise. If this guy couldn’t overcome social life, it seemed a little hard to believe that he could overcome monsters bent on stabbing him to death. Shenmock’s job was to keep that from happening.

Ven’s eyes bulged as he looked at the menu. “That’s two levels above me…and it holds so many monsters!” He gawked at the screen.

Shenmock raised his hand, pointing his palm up to the puffy pink clouds that hovered up above the city. “You’ll be fine. Relax.” Despite Ven still arguing, the teen sent them to the field. Golden rings enveloped the two, followed by the loading screen that had the words imprinted on a small, sky blue rectangle with a golden outline.

When the two arrived, the first portal had already been activated. Shenmock gave him a hard slap on the back as a pair of Swordmanoids appeared, already charging forward with their swords held high. This guy had brought entertainment to a whole new level.

Butterflies. You know, the little bugs that the four year olds always gasp at saying, “Look, it’s a butterfly.” They’re beautiful creatures, really, but I’m not talking about colorful bugs that attract peoples’ attention. They’re in my stomach, fluttering around and bouncing against my chest at every passing second. It usually happens when there’s a lot of pressure on me or when I fear something’s going to happen, but…nothing close to that is happening. The day goes on and suddenly – poof! – they just appear, crashing into my chest and making me want to punch my own stomach.

I don’t understand anything these days. I could go on and rant in my head about how people did the weirdest things, but that would be old news to everybody. Maybe I should try to think about something else, like the thing at hand. The person in front of me, struggling against things twice as strong as him, things that almost ignored me. It was a bit sad to watch, too.

But alas, everything starts out small. Players of ‘The World’ are no different. Even Mac Anu, the most populated server in the game, started out as a simple pixel. Los Angeles, something not pixilated, was started out with a simple building. Then it grew until it came to be one of the most populated places in the world. Need I go on to satisfy myself? Sometimes things choose to stay small. Sometimes things choose to try and grow into something big. Everything starts out small, everything in the whole wide universe.

I wonder if this player is going to choose to stay small. It all really depends on what I do here. I could either be cruel to him by not helping him or I could actually be nice to him, making the game something that could effect his future. It was surprising how something as simple as a video game could change someone’s life. I didn’t think it was exactly going to change everybody’s, but it was a possibility for the person here. I thought he seemed like the type of guy that wasn’t one of those popular I-have-a-life-and-a-video-game-is-not-going-to-change-it…or something like that.

I could be nice, I could be mean, I could be joking, I could be loud, or I could be just about anything I wanted to be in this place. Today, maybe just today, I could be nice to this person, and maybe, maybe just today, I would get that good feeling that I had dreamed about. It was doubtful, as nothing that had previously occurred in my day was worth mentioning, but maybe that would change. I can only hope that today is that day I’ve been dreaming about. How, though? How?

I guess when a dream comes, it’s not very predictable, right? There are all these maybes everywhere and not a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ If it’s no, fine; if it’s yes, great. I care, sure, but I’m not going to make a big deal about thinking that today, another ordinary day in my ordinary life about ordinary people and ordinary problems, was going to be the day that one of dozens of dreams would be fulfilled.

Dreams’ occurrences aren’t supposed to be that predictable. I like it that way. It just surrounds it with mystery and suspense. You either think, “Today is going to be the best day of my life!” and it isn’t, or you think, “Today is going to be the worst day of my life!” and you find out that it’s the day your dream came true. That’s just my opinion. Great things don’t happen on a time schedule. Small things might, but never great, big things. Sadly, whether people like it or not, everything starts out small. And if you’re lucky, they’ll progress as times goes on.

Shenmock watched in silence from his perch on the rock, yet he was hardly paying attention to the battle at hand. The player seemed to be acclimating nicely to the game and each attack he made seemed to be smoother than the last. He didn’t need his help much, but later down in the dungeon, he’d probably need help. The number of monsters that came out of a portal down there was downright big.

Once Ven had finished up with the monster, he slipped off the rock. He was sure the player expected a compliment, but he merely waved a hand for them to move on. After all, it had merely been two Swordmanoids, quite possibly one of the dumbest monsters in the game. He had faced better even on his first run, yet that had been rather anticlimactic. It was a good thing he carried a good supply of Antidotes with him all the time.

Ven was quiet and shy. He rarely talked when they were walking. Instead, he whistled a tune, which over time grew more and more annoying. The Fist Fighter finally grumbled and told him to shut up. Then they moved on to the final portal before the dungeon. The experience seemed really boring to him. There was no challenge to any of this and the person that he could be talking to was pulling the silent treatment. Unless, that is, whistling could be coded.

The battle seemed like much of the same, only one more monster. Two Swordmanoids and a Deadly Moth, a monster they hadn’t taken care of before. No matter. He’d show the kid how it was done and make it look like cake. They were slow, but carried a bit of punch with them. It was nothing compared to some of the monsters near his levels. Things got tougher over time, no?

Shenmock flexed his muscles and rolled his eyes as the Deadly Moth came forward at its snail pace. Then, after doing a proper cracking of his knuckles, the Fist Fighter sprinted forward. He slid forward, sending blades of grass and all sorts of flowers into the air. With the gracefulness of a gymnast, the Fist Fighter pressed his hands into the ground and drilled upward into the moth’s chest, sending it spinning out of his way. It hadn’t even gotten a chance to raise its stinger, either.

With ease, Ven took care of the monsters, dealing a few strikes to one before using his remaining magic points to annihilate the other with a skill. It was impressive to say the least, and to top it all off, the guy managed to gain a level along with it. There was no treasure, though. Bummer. Shrugging his shoulders, Shenmock lazily walked into the dungeon entrance while Ven cautiously trailed behind. Maybe being so lazy about everything wasn’t such a good idea.

The dungeon was naturally a gloomy place, with all sorts of cobwebs and blood spattered across the walls. A good number of skeletons with flesh hanging off from the tips of their bones were there, too, but it didn’t bother him. It was your usual dungeon room, one that he had been in all too many times. Surprisingly, to mix up things a little, there were two choices in front of him. All the more fun to be had, eh?

“Scared?” Shenmock asked. He kicked over one of the skeletons, watching its bones fall apart in front of him just from the simple tap. All he managed from that was a slight laugh. Ah, the reality of these games!

“Not really. I have this weird feeling in my stomach that I’ve been here before, though. It’s like déjà vu…” He swung his blade and cleared two of the skeletons in his path. “Then again, all the dungeons are the same, so I can’t expect much more than a few rooms and floors containing monsters. Maybe a bit of plunder, too.” He shrugged. He didn’t seem to care much about it. There was too much of the same. Then again, the Fist Fighter really wasn’t much of a party member either…

“Well, I say we clear out every room and get all the treasure. That way you’ll have a good chance of clearing out your next dungeon!” The Fist Fighter laughed, this time stepping over a skeleton rather than kicking it. He could see how far he could kick its head, but that didn’t seem like much of a challenge. He knew it was going to break the second he touched it.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Ven said, a grin appearing on his face. Then the two jogged off into the dungeon.

Maybe they could turn this dungeon adventure into something fun after all.

Whenever I wake up, nothing comes at first. I just open my eyes and stare at the ceiling for almost a minute before any thoughts process into my mind. Maybe the first thought will be of what I’ll have for breakfast or when I should change my alarm theme to something other than the Waffles song. It was really starting to tick me off now. Usually the events of the day come, followed by other insignificant things. The events are usually boring and insignificant, too.

I get up early and sometimes I even crawl up on my roof despite everybody telling me that it was dangerous. Sometimes I was able to see the sunrise, red and bright with energy. Watching the whole world slowly radiate with life around me was amazing. Too bad it didn’t save me from the boring events of the day. Oh yeah, a test here, a jerk there, and maybe even a butt load of homework over there. I think that ticked me off more than my alarm clock’s theme.

I usually got to school early or on weekends, I’d just lounge about my room until it was noon. Some might think it’s strange not to eat breakfast, but usually I never think about food. Nowadays the Waffles song makes me lose my appetite. So I just lounge about, wasting time and doing absolutely nothing for the first four hours of the day. I could be looking for work or helping with chores, but…it just never comes to mind.

‘The World’ is hardly the save haven it used to be. I used to have fun there, playing with all kinds of people and sometimes even managing to enjoy myself. It really changed my life, but now it just seems like an afterthought most of the time. I got myself so tangled up in some of the events there that I would leave the game for long periods of time, hardly even thinking about it. The Juk Prison never really helped me like the game, as it really showed me how messed up it really was and how much the game was flawed. There was no other MMORPG out that could send people into comas. Sometimes I wondered whether or not some of the others had gotten out without getting hurt or going comatose. I feel bad most of the time. It sometimes escaped my mind that I had left them and never even come into contact with anyone since. I had been keeping to myself most of the time. I wondered where they were. I needed to contact them sometime. I wasted about four hours a day, so I could at least spend five minutes typing up a message, couldn’t I?

So really, all I can see is that I’m not going to get anywhere being lazy. Yes, ‘lounging’ is my middle name and all, but it’s a bad habit that I have to get rid of. Smoking is worse, but these days whoever smokes is long dead. There are harsh conditions, but I can’t really feel any emotion to the dead. I feel like a jerk saying that I’m not sad about their deaths, but most of them were real jerks. Those who even got all ticked at them all the time seemed to mourn for them as if they had been their very best friends. A little bit of an overreaction in my opinion, but then again, most of the time people think of me as an emotionless jerk who cares for nothing in the world.

‘The World’ nowadays is hardly the safe haven it used to be and neither is reality. I live for nothing these days. That needs to change somehow. I’m not just going to give in and let death take me. I have a lot of things that I need to fulfill. Dreams, aspirations, love in my life, maybe even a job that I can do this coming summer.

I need to act now. If I don’t, I think my life will soon enough tear itself apart limb from limb.

Fifth floor, fourth room.

The golden portal gave off a faint light in front of them. Their shadows lengthened to the middle of it in the darkness, only lit by a few candles surrounding the room. His eyes were locked onto the light, at what looked like strange writings in the middle of the portal. Ven stood beside him, his eyes grave and hardened from previous battles. The portal gave way, revealing two Mushroom Kings that eagerly rushed forward to greet them in battle.

“Your time has come. Gan Zot!” the Fist Fighter cried. The ground rumbled underneath him while a strong aura surrounded him. Then the pillars of rock came up, crushing the monster with its weight and power. Shenmock’s eyes sparkled as the monster came crashing down, little more than a groan escaping its lips before it dematerialized. With a few swings, his partner easily eliminated the other monster. Ven rested his blade down, panting.

“We’re almost done,” the Fist Fighter spoke reassuringly. From the looks of things this was probably the last room of the floor. Maybe the treasure was left or maybe there was another fight waiting for them in the next room? Ven heaved his blade up, slipping it back into his inventory and following Shenmock through the passageway that had opened not seconds before.

The room in front of them radiated with light from candles on either side. A red carpet led to the front where a treasure stood. On it sat another player, a blade resting in front of him. His gray eyes were set on Shenmock, looking almost bloodshot from where the two stood. The man picked up his blade and sighed, weighing it in his hand a little. His clothes were ragged like he had come from the slums while his skin was dirty with mud and dirt. He had dirty brown hair that went down just above his eyes. Whoever he was, he didn’t look like he was here to greet them.

“Stay back,” Shenmock muttered under his breath. When Ven started to move forward, Shenmock held up a hand, shoving him lightly back. “You’re just going to get killed.” He turned and gave a light smile to Ven, trying to sound reassuring. He knew he hadn’t been. “This’ll be done in a minute. If not, flee. I don’t want all those levels and items going to waste.”

Shenmock stepped forward and pulled out a pair of gauntlets, which just so happened to be known as the Dark Dragon Fist. It was one of the most powerful weapons he had in his arsenal, and he planned to knock this guy into the wall before he had a chance to make a cocky comment towards the two of them. The man rushed forward, not a single word coming out of his mouth as he raised his sword. It was an interesting sword, one that looked both blunt and beautiful at the time. It wasn’t sharp by any means either.

“Granite Slammer!” the Fist Fighter cried, propelling his fist into the man’s chest. His form was spent spiraling back to where he had come from, his form bent in an irregular shape that made Ven flinch. His hit points, though, were not visible. The former Long Arm started to walk forward, slowly at first, and then faster as the man started to stand up, blood leaking from the wound Shenmock had left in his chest. His eyes were still bloodshot while the hand holding his blade shook uncontrollably. The man raised it for a moment and then dropped it, letting it clatter noisily to the floor. His expression was sullen and he fell back on the ground, tears streaming down his face. Not a single word was uttered.

The man finally looked up, his eyes even more bloodshot than before. The ground started to shake under the Fist Fighter. Ven looked around and called for him to come back so they could get out. Shenmock could only stare at the player, or was it an AI? Whatever it was, it wasn’t something that a player was supposed to see. Slowly, he turned, looking back at Ven. He waved a finger at him. “Go.”

Then the player left, never to see the Fist Fighter again. Shenmock looked longingly at the man one more time before using his sprite ocarina to get out of the dungeon. Then he gated out, countless thoughts flooding into his mind at an amazingly fast rate. It seemed to be like a message to him.

It seemed to be saying that ‘The World’ desperately called for his aid.

If I leave a birthday party, is that considered abandoning people? Sure, I’m abandoning a few kids, but it’s not like it’s going to make the difference of the world. They get more cake and I get more time to spend doing chores or something of the like that has to do with the word boredom. Abandoning people after fighting for your lives is a little different, even if it’s in a virtual world. I thought at first that they could handle things without me as they went on. I was sure I wasn’t that big of a deal. I never dealt the finishing blow to anything, nor did I really play a key role in getting to the next point of the dungeon or whatever the heck we were going there. I felt kind of useless.

That was months ago, though. In the recent months I’ve spent in ‘The World,’ I’ve just been hanging around and doing your everyday quests. I can’t say that I enjoyed them a lot, but they were at least something that didn’t put me in a life or death situation. I’ve grown a lot, I think. My level has literally doubled since the Juk Prison, along with my class. My personality hasn’t gone anywhere, really, and neither has much else. I’m just the same old person, Shenmock, someone who gets himself involved in things that make him guilty of things that he’d rather not think about. Or something like that.

I guess guilt has really taken hold of me and that’s why I plan to try and get back in there, to fight on the fields where I belong. Screw life, screw safety. There isn’t much point living my life ordinarily and going to work at McDonald’s serving fat people oversized hamburgers for the rest of my life. There had to be at least some point in my life, and it seemed fitting that I use it to get people out of the comatose state and into the real world where they belonged.

I wonder when they’ll request help again. I’m sure CCCorporation will be chasing after us like no one’s business, but I don’t care. Screw the Knights and their so-called “justice.” I was here to save a few people and if justice was going to get in my way, I was going to kick it right in the face.

I abandoned people and never even tried to contact any of them even as months passed. I guess that’s my fault, really. I guess I should really send someone a flash-mail soon, maybe Baron or something. He might be a treasure hungry fool, but he’s at least got some brains behind that idiotic smirk of his. Wonder what happened to everybody out there. Maybe the lack of flash-mails is a sign…a bad one.

I need to figure these things out soon. No. Not soon. I need to figure these things out now.

Shenny: One Level, Health Drink