By: Matthew Conley. Published: March 14, 2011.
I hear them. They don’t try to hide it. Those foul beasts, with their strange echoing moans, howls, and hisses, gather outside of my makeshift layer in the ground. Darkness consumes me, but no longer! I place a glowing torch upon the dirt walls of my hastily dug-into grotto, illuminating the six square by eight square space that I now call home. Nighttime still reigns outside, as if a malevolent king refused to give up his scepter whenever his time came. What can I do? Where can I go? My eyes glanced towards the ground as I held my 16-bit pickaxe in my hand. How could I not have seen it before? The answer lay before me.