Short Tales of Starvation

[~Matt]

This thread will be dedicated to short stories regarding Don't Starve, based on characters or anything else in the game I feel like writing about or you request a lot. I will keep the stories three text editor pages long at most and will, probably, also post some drawings later on, but the focus truly is on the tales.
 
For the very first one, I will be remaking my story of Webber, since I left out many key elements of the character out in that tale. Please, enjoy, and leave any feedback (:
 

Eight childish eyes, a short tale of Webber

Prelude
Hello, children. I suppose you've come to hear yet anoter story? Tonight we've got a good one. Sit, listen, and I hope you really like spiders.

A bit more feral than grandpa's cat.
The mother's turkey was always too salty, and the grandfather was always complaining. The little boy was always eating joyfully, and the father was always making noise upstairs. Whiskers was always watching, waiting for the grandfather's lap, or, more dreadfully, for the little boy's thin dark hand. Today, the boy was the first to get up, and his standing legs, more bone than flesh, made stubbly the cat's fur, and terrified of what pulls a hand could execute, Whiskers ran. If needed, it would climb up the walls, to the top of shelves a little boy could never reach, even though it was never enough. Every night that a grandfather's protective lap, calming hand and soothing phonograph music would not protect the cat, its tail was destined to suffer with the little boy's unexpectedly strong pulls. A grin from ear to ear made it suddenly so clear, but as the pull pushed Whiskers to its personal hell, the cat's tail was ripped out and fell.

Father used to work on something like that.
Every morning, the father and the little boy would use the bathroom simultaneously, and when the boy started to talk about his recurring dream of a bishop, the man would interject about how much his beard grew overnight, even though the mother thought it to be magnificent. Then, the two would feed the small caprine herd kept by the family on the backyard, and the little boy would play with Rosa, an eight year old siamese goat, born on the boy's first birthday, a good companion since. While his child was distracted petting Rosa's heads, the father would go back inside the house, and upstairs to his workplace. Then, the noises would begin, waking the grandfather up and bothering the mother, who, apart from having weak lungs, was made afraid of the father.

King of the bullies!
School is never the best for little thin boys, even more so when other boys think themselves superior, some just for being bigger, some for having pale or clearer skin. Imagine, then, when those attributes merge into a single person. This particular child was round, and cruelly voluminous, with skin white enough for him to look pink most of the time, characteristics that attracted that boy many comparisons with pigs. Needless to say is that said child tormented the little boy as long as one was in the other's peripheral vision or range of hearing. The big boy would run as fast as he ran to hurt the little boy only when he was offered meat, and even to the face of adults such violence practiced by the big boy was overlooked, because in their minds, what is ebony marble blinds, and if the black suffer, it's only their fault, because they always have opportunities to be tougher.

They're so cute when they sleep.
For dinner, there were leftovers. For pulling, there was no tail. The mother said the little boy should rest to heal from the bruises, and the grandfather said he should become a real man, of course without specifying what a real man even is, which confused the little boy. Free of distractions and put to rest earlier than normal, the little boy felt thoughtful, leading then to curiosity about the noises. Much like any other living thing in the house, the boy never paid attention to what the sounds were. Later that night, his feet would know the cold wood that composed both the floor and the stair's steps. The father never locked the door, for he never did anything needless, even though a little boy's curiosity was enough proof of need, just less so than said little boy's head creeping into the father's workplace, as well as his hand reaching for the light switch, in order to reveal a handful of machines that looked more like disform assortments of metal, some chemistry sets, and a cage housing a big resting creature, covered in black fur, as well as the bones of what could only be a siamese goat, quickly recognised as Rosa.

Why can't we just get along?!
The disbelief and anger of losing a loved one usually can lead to stupidity, and the little boy did not worry about being an exception. He reached for a bulky key, clumsily inserting it into the lock, then turning it to open the cage and wet the goat skull, ignoring the eight milky white eyes slowly opening behind him, the eight legs spreading through the cage, and the mouth that was a moment after so hard to ignore, for it swallowed whole the little boy's legs, and kept steady progress in swallowing the rest. It did not take long. What also did not take long was for both boy and beast to realise that no digestion was occurring. In an instinct, the indigestible boy stretched out, pushing the flesh, endoskeleton and exoskeleton of its swallower, while said swallower screeched, tossing itself against the bars, trying to push out the indigestible boy while his head separates and widens its mandible. Soon, the boy would also try and regain movement, crawling to the attic's door, then falling off the stairs, near a father for the first time paralyzed in fear, and a grandfather who swung a metal rod onto the beast's body, making not only it, but also the indigestible boy crawl as quickly as they could to and out of the front door, then even quicker into the trees around while the boy struggled to stand bipedally.

Spiders understand us.
Once they were deep enough in the vegetation, spiders were encountered, hunting under the moonlight. At first, they thought the hostility with which humans treated them would repeat itself in this case, but the arthropods simply guided them into the den, feeding the two with meat from other nights.

Something wicked this way comes.
The next night, they hunted with the spiders, to find not prey, but a camp, in which two pale people, a man and a woman, talked and laughed around a campfire that scared the spiders, but not them. The man saw them first, and smiled, waved, even. The woman did not do differently, and they approached. The man introduced himself as Maxwell, and said he could help them.

Edited October 5, 2015 by ~Matt

[NoobModder]

~...Creative Story Title...~

If memories don't last forever, why am I forever lost?

You ask me to right my actions, but I fear I cannot.

It's too late for me...

But there was someone else...

I can tell you a story, but I cannot guarantee my eternal sleep.

It is your choice:

Emerge from the trap, or keep on struggling?

A very long time ago, a young girl was born under a tree.

Her parents, whom she never got to know, were facing a great predicament at the time...

They left the young girl with a token of their love, and named her after the tree that so humbly became her home.

Perhaps it was the fire she saw that day that would forge her fate;

Or perhaps it was the shadow man, waiting for the game to start.

When she grew older, she was always fond of the fire.

She used it to keep away the cold, and as a reminder that the situation can always get better.

Or worse.

One day, a gentleman scientist came along.

He seemed very confused, so the child of the fire took him in.

She grew very fond of him, and they had many good times together.

She used to look into the fire, and find happiness in it.

Now, even the fires grew stale as her love for the gentleman grew.

One day, the gentleman went off to explore the endless deserts nearby. 

Don't starve, the shadow man said.

The gentleman scientist did not fare well.

So young Willow freed herself;

The fire was her friend.

 

EDIT: I wrote this at night, specifically at that point where it's really late and I lose logical traction of a situation. I'm not responsible for any lost brain cells c:

Edited October 5, 2015 by NoobModder

[~Matt]

@NoobModder Very nice story, and coincidental that you made one about Willow, I was thinking of writing about her next

 

The verse structure also added a lot to this, feels just right for the way you used to tell the story, even more so with such a silent and mysterious Willow.

Edited October 5, 2015 by ~Matt

[NoobModder]

0-o

 

Moar stories!

[~Matt]

Guys, I need your help. I really want to make a Wendy story next, and I've been reading her quotes to build up the image I want to make of her. I would like you guys, specially the Wendy players, to send quotes of hers that you think could be key elements for a story featuring her.