Our Limit

Hello, friend.
Welcome to the world. Here I lay with all my friends in gathering. Grey things, black and red things with tentacles springing out of their side, and known colors coated on a greener version of what I know, all springing into existence in the night. Too bad they all burn.
There is no place for monsters in this world. They are purposely put at a disadvantage. Passive mobs are bred and sometimes ignored by the player. We are hated, avoided, and sometimes sought after. But sometimes we die. Usually we do. The player enjoys killing us. But he hates it when he dies. 
I rose out of daydream. I surveyed my surroundings, and spotted the player once more. 
He’s on the move.
I must follow.
But I can’t, unless he comes closer. Please, save me. Wait, no. He came into the dark forest where I waited. He comes over, greeted by a green monster, very close to me. I notice it glow white several times before stopping as the player sprints away. But, not to worry, he’s never ejected any crumbs since he came. He stops sprinting and a pursuit begins. The player walks at the same speed, narrowly avoiding death, but unknowingly keeping his foe alive. He heads to his chest in a clearing and barely makes it out, eating one steak before sprinting away. I chase once again. 
His house comes into view. He runs inside to his little birch hut while I await command. I sit there at his door, pondering how long I will be here. He clambers into the bed and is ruthlessly kicked out. How inconvenient. But his problems with the game’s code aren’t even close to mine. I push that thought to the back of my head. He heads up the ladder into the unknown. I, a green mass with a powerful purpose, continues to lay here.
To pass the time, I look around at my brethren. I call them that, even if they never interact with me. At least, I’ve never experienced it. I’ve seen it happen before to one of my green friends, but once again, it has yet to occur to me. I wait there for about 20 seconds or so. I hear the snap of leg bones on the other side of the house. I guess I'll wait… 
Night abruptly ends. I watch as all of them burn to ashes in the sunlight. Sometimes I wish I could be like them. A more unique life where they experience the orange flames of a weirder livelihood. My eyes go blind for a second. I hear trampling of grass and what feels, i-in, inside, like the push of a button. We are once again on the move. Not me, technically, but according to the code, it is me. He seems unaware of danger’s presence. I get to observe the back of his body again. He contains a sky blue shirt with noticeably dark pants. His bodily movements tell me his gaze is on some sort of item nearby, possibly a chest. I see this very clearly. 
This creature I know is a player because of what he does. He builds things and creates blocks we never see elsewhere, and morphs his surroundings to his curious needs. He unites all mobs for personal gain, including a dark room which only some have escaped. He may hate us and be ridiculously picky with every mob’s mere proximity, but he is the most powerful. Somehow, he is God. 
Suddenly, a bright green metal hoarder with a blue hood emerges over the hill. The absence of trees make him extra visible for my untrained yet functioning eyes to see. The player comes over to the trader as more hissing intensifies. This sound dominates my ears as much as it clogs my brain. Immediately he rushes away. I follow for a couple seconds, stepping onto the hill. I observe attentively as he runs into the sunset, bringing his tail-wielding mobs with him. He’s probably about 80 blocks away before I can even comprehend clearly where he is. 
Tired, I turn. I see his horse and his pigs, gently tugging at the grass with their feet, loving their infinitely happy lives. The rising moon moves parallel to their homes, accompanied by the aroma of farmland and flowers, reacting smoothly to wind howling through the air like a wolf excited to chase its lunch. Last of all, I see their beautiful name tag, hovering above them proudly as I a tear, no, not a normal one (which physically represents a relatable emotion), probably a mental one, locked away in the premature graveyard of a creeper’s disgusting face, hurriedly glistens down my cheek.
And I-
…
Category:Sad
Category:Creepypasta