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This is really high quality stuff. (Oh, and my son likes it too, haha.)
“What a surprisingly touching story about a Minecraft zombie! The writing was high quality. These are kid’s books?? Can’t wait for more! My son and I loved this series!”
– An Amazon Customer
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Diary of a Teenage Zombie Villager – Book 1
**Over 22,000 words of kid-friendly fun!**
This high-quality fan fiction fantasy diary book is for kids, teens, and nerdy grown-ups who love to read epic stories about their favorite game!
Devdan wasn’t your typical teenager.
He was a Minecraft villager.
And he was a zombie.
He spent his days and nights doing zombie stuff.
The zombie Devdan couldn’t even remember his name anymore, that is, until he was visited by the pet cat he had when he was alive. Now, along with Skeleton Steve’s help, Devdan sets out with his long-lost kitty to remember who he is and find his village home. But how will he find the way? And what will he do if he gets there? Will Devdan be destined to roam the Minecraft world as a zombie villager forever?
Love Minecraft adventure??
Read Book 1 of Minecraft Diary of a Teenage Zombie Villager now!
— Available on Kindle and Paperback
–
Diary of a Teenage Zombie Villager – Book 2
**Over 26,000 words of kid-friendly fun!**
This high-quality fan fiction fantasy diary book is for kids, teens, and nerdy grown-ups who love to read epic stories about their favorite game!
Help with the ‘Zombie Problem’
Now that Devdan has found his way home and remembers who he is, the teenage zombie villager is desperate to find a way to reverse his ‘zombie problem’ and go back to his own life AND be accepted by his father again! When a traveling witch named Worla offers to help him transform back to normal, Devdan is happy to perform some errands for her in exchange for such assistance!
But, even with the help of Skeleton Steve and Sir Zebulon the Zombie Knight (and Mr. Whiskers the cat!), can they sneak into Minecraft Steve’s castle to do as she asks? And when Worla reveals that a rival witch–a swamp voodoo master–is the monster that killed Devdan and his mother, will the teenage zombie villager be able to get his revenge??
Love Minecraft adventure??
Read Book 2 of Minecraft Diary of a Teenage Zombie Villager NOW!
— Available on Kindle and Paperback
–
Diary of a Teenage Zombie Villager – Book 3
**Over 22,000 words of kid-friendly fun!**
This high-quality fan fiction fantasy diary book is for kids, teens, and nerdy grown-ups who love to read epic stories about their favorite game!
The Right Stuff
The evil witch is dead and Worla is satisfied with Devdan’s hard work. Holding up her end of the deal, Devdan’s benefactor tells the teenage zombie villager (and Skeleton Steve) that they’ll need to find the right stuff–a Golden Apple and a Potion of Weakness–to perform the transformation process. She even tells them where to find the items!
But when the potion they need lies within the lair of another rival witch, one who stole all of Worla’s potion-brewing gear, and this second rival witch is also a master of slime control, will Devdan and Skeleton Steve (and the cat, Mr. Whiskers!) be able to deal with another evil magic user? And will delving down into a jungle temple full of tricks and traps prove to be too much for the duo?
Love Minecraft adventure??
Read Book 3 of Minecraft Diary of a Teenage Zombie Villager NOW!
— Available on Kindle and Paperback
–
Diary of a Teenage Zombie Villager – Book 4
**Over 26,000 words of kid-friendly fun!**
This high-quality fan fiction fantasy diary book is for kids, teens, and nerdy grown-ups who love to read epic stories about their favorite game!
Who will cure the Teenage Zombie Villager??
After everything they’ve been through, with the golden apple and the Potion of Weakness in hand, Skeleton Steve and Devdan are having a hard time completing the process! Once they return to Worla with the right stuff to transform Devdan back into his normal self, our heroes are surprised to find out that she doesn’t know how! The witch sends them to the Steve to try and convince the Minecraftian to perform the ritual for them.
But when the Steve wants nothing more than to kill the teenage zombie villager and Skeleton Steve, and they can’t convince him otherwise, what are they going to do? Having the bright idea to go back to Devdan’s father in Ahimsa Village for help, they run into even more problems! Devdan’s dad has been kidnapped and taken to the Nether! When the duo (along with Devdan’s cat, Mr. Whiskers) finds a way to the dark and fiery world to rescue the missing armorer, will they be able to make it through the frightening place, save the teenage zombie villager’s father from certain doom, and FINALLY be able to transform Devdan back into a normal villager again??
Love Minecraft adventure??
Read Book 4 of Minecraft Diary of a Teenage Zombie Villager NOW!
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THIS SERIES HAS A BOX SET!
(Books 1-4)
**Over 80,000 words of kid-friendly fun!**
This high-quality fan fiction fantasy diary book BOX SET is for kids, teens, and nerdy grown-ups who love to read epic stories about their favorite game!
Books 1-4 of the “Teenage Zombie Villager” Minecraft Diary Book Series in ONE!!!
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Read the Books 1-4 BOX SET of The Teenage Zombie Villager – NOW!
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Book One Preview
I don’t know why, but I had this journal in my pack.
How is it that I can write? I don’t remember how I learned to write, or how I’m reading what I’m writing. Am I reading?
Who am I?
There must have been a reason for this book to be in my pack. I suppose it was mine. So I may as well write.
Well …
There isn’t much to write about right now.
When I came out from the shadows tonight, I was in a dark and cold place. The pine trees were dark and snowy, and the ground made frozen crunching sounds under my feet.
As the square moon moved across the sky above me, I walked through the mountain forest, watching the other mobs around me.
Mobs? Why did I call them that?
They must be called that. I don’t remember how, but I guess I knew.
Looking down at my stubby arms, I could see that my skin was green.
There were others around me with green skin as well. They dotted the landscape, shadows of zombies standing and shuffling around through the snow all around me.
Zombies? What were zombies?
I guess I was a zombie.
I didn’t remember much before the sun went down tonight. I just knew that I was hungry.
Hungry.
I walked with the other zombies for a while.
“Where are you going?” I asked one of them.
A zombie looked at me with a long, soft moan. His shirt was light blue, and partly pulled out of his pants. His eyes were black and dull, and his face empty. He regarded me for a moment, then stuck his arms out in front of him and continued plodding along the way he was going. Crunch, crunch, crunch, through the snow.
“Where are you going?” I asked again, in a different way.
The zombie looked back at me and stopped.
“We are going over there,” he said. “There is a village that way, I think. Why were you speaking in villager?”
“Villager?” I asked.
“The language of the villager people!” the zombie replied.
Language? What was language? Oh yeah … I guess I had forgotten. Language is the way people speak to each other. I knew two different languages. Why in the world did I know the villager language?
“I don’t know,” I said.
“You look like them,” the zombie said. “You were a villager before, I think…”
“I don’t remember,” I said.
The zombie turned and moved on.
There were many other zombies going in the same direction, across the snowy fields under the great mountain peaks. I walked with them until morning.
When the sun rose over the frozen horizon, we all suddenly burst into flames! The fire burned at my zombie body, burned at my clothes, but I didn’t feel any pain.
Pain? What was pain? I didn’t remember.
After a few wild seconds of wandering around on fire, the flames went out, and I was still alive, under a tree…
Other zombies around me were not so lucky. Some of them stayed in the fields, and burned until they were consumed, fell, and disappeared in a flash of ash and smoke. Only smoldering chunks of their bodies remained, sitting in the brilliant, white snow. Others made it into the shade, some on purpose, some on accident. Their burning bodies eventually calmed down, outside the deadly sunlight, and the flames snuffed out.
I was determined to stay under this pine tree until the sun went down again. It was obvious that the sunlight would kill us zombies! Why I didn’t realize that until just now? I wondered.
I would try to remember.
Sunlight. Bad.
How long had I been a zombie? More than one night, I was sure.
Or was it?
In the shade of the pine tree, I watched as the sun crept up the horizon, filling the snowy, frozen mountainside with bright light and a trace of warmth…
What’s this diary in my pack?
The cover of the book had a single, scrawled sentence:
After reading through the diary, it looked like someone had written a single entry about a night of walking through the snowy mountains with a group of other zombies.
How about that? I didn’t know I could read!
Was that just last night?
Did I write this?
I didn’t remember. I guess I’ll write some more later to see if the previous writer was me. If the handwriting looked the same, it had to be me, right??
I was still in the snowy mountains.
When the sun went down, I stepped out into a snowy field from under a pine tree.
Other zombies around me were moving as a group in one direction.
I followed.
My frozen, slow feet plodded along tirelessly, crunching through the snow.
I saw others in the darkness around me—more than just zombies! There were skeletons—their bones clattering as they wandered the darkness, bow in hand. Big, fat spiders could be seen as black shadows here and there, like blots of ink against the snow, easily visible because of their multiple red glowing eyes. They hissed and scuttled around the landscape, climbing trees and cliffs. And I saw silent, green sausage-shaped creatures on four tiny, stubby legs, quietly exploring in the darkness…
“What’s that?” I said to the nearest zombie, speaking in the mob language he would understand. I pointed to one of the green creatures.
Mob language? What did that mean? Where did that come from?
I felt so confused!
“That … creeper,” the zombie replied, and shuffled off.
The ‘creeper’ was a strange-looking creature indeed. It stood and looked around as we walked by, turned and wandered silently through the snow, then, watched everything around it some more. Its face was dark and haunting, a gaping frown disapproving of the world around it.
I suddenly saw something small running across the snowy field toward the creeper I was watching, and the frowning green creature fled in the opposite direction!
The tiny mob that chased away the green creature did not pursue it. Small, black and white, the little animal sat in the snow for a moment, then, continued along its speedy path…
To me!
I stopped in the snow.
The nearest zombies around me paused when they noticed my change. They all looked at me for a moment with dull eyes, then, raised their arms again, moaned, and walked on.
The approaching small creature moved with great speed, faster than any other mobs around me—much faster than us zombies—and closed the distance in no time! I raised my zombie arms, ready to defend myself…
“Meow,” it said.
Now that the little monster was closer, I could get a better look! Standing in the snow in front of me on four little legs, with a black and white tail swishing around in the cold air, the strange creature had bold, green eyes, and it tilted its cute, little head to one side as it regarded me from down below.
“Meow.”
Kitty cat, my zombie brain said.
Kitty cat? What was a kitty cat?
Did I know what this creature was?
I couldn’t remember…
But it was very interested in me.
“Meow,” it repeated.
“What do you want, kitty cat?” I asked.
“Meow.” It tilted its head the other way.
Where did this cat come from? Why was it up here in the snowy mountains? And why was it so interested in me?
The kitty cat approached closer, its tiny feet crunching in the snow, until it circled around my zombie legs, pushing and rubbing its cute little head up against my ankles through my tattered, brown leggings.
“Meow! Purrrr purrrr…” it said.
I reached down and touched the creature’s soft, furry body; touched its black and white head with my clumsy zombie hands.
“Who are you?” I said.
“Meow,” it replied.
“Do I know you?” I asked.
“Meow,” the cat said.
If I did know this cat, I didn’t remember it. I could see up ahead that the snowy mountain field descended into a green valley, where the trees eventually thinned out, until great, wide grassy plains stretched out for miles.
The zombies around me moaned and kept moving on, down toward the grasslands…
And in the distant valley, I could see the faint light of a torch!
A village??
I was definitely hungry for villagers to eat! That must be where all of these zombies around me were heading!
Is that village what I wanted? I couldn’t remember.
Paying attention to the upcoming town, I continued walking, plodding through the snow, and forgot about the cat. When I remembered suddenly, I looked back again behind me…
“Meow,” it said.
The cat was still with me, and was following me as I descended down into the valley.
The closer we zombies got to the village, the more I heard the sounds of battle. The living villagers screamed and squawked, fleeing from the zombies that were already in town, barricading themselves into their homes! They slammed their wooden doors, and screamed and cried as the zombies tried to break into their houses.
I heard wooden doors crash and break to pieces!
“Hold the door!” someone yelled, far below.
“Are we all that’s left?” another villager shouted. “Don’t let them inside!”
Zombies moaned and snarled and bashed on doors!
Even though I tried to get down to the village as fast as my slow zombie legs would carry me, I was afraid that the zombies who arrived before me would kill and eat all of the villagers before I could get there!
So hungry!
Crash!
I heard the splintering of another wooden door being broken apart.
“We’re finished!” someone yelled. “Run! Get out! Get out!”
Screams. Sounds of battle.
When I arrived at the village and stepped onto the cobblestone street, I didn’t hear the voices of any other villagers. I wandered through the skinny roads, past the town’s well, and peered into each open doorway. Pieces of wooden doors and other debris were scattered all around!
No one. No villagers.
Other zombies milled about. There were even a few skeletons here and there, and a spider up on a roof.
But no villagers. They were all either killed before I arrived, or, whoever was left in the end just ran away…
Looking behind me, I saw the cat. He followed me, black-bodied, with white paws and a white chest. His green eyes watched me constantly.
His? I thought.
I shrugged. Did I remember this cat being a he?
Looking around the village, I let out a long, moaning sigh. There was nothing for me here…
I wandered away from the village into the grassy field nearby. When the sun was about to rise, I was near the tree-line. It was a good thing, too, because when the rays of the dazzling square of burning light pierced the night sky, and the day began, I burst into flames!
There was no pain, but I remembered from reading this journal and what I presumably wrote the night before, that my best chance to survive was to get under a tree!
I found a tall oak tree at the edge of the field. Once I stood in its shadow, the flames eventually died down, and I was safe again for the day.
“Meow,” the kitty cat said. He crazily darted around me until the fire went out, then, cautiously approached my smoldering body. The cat sat down next to me in the grass.
I watched as random zombies and skeletons in the field burned to death. They fell, then were reduced to piles of ash…
Standing under the oak tree all day, I listened to the wind whistle across the open plains. The apples in the tree shook in the branches above me.
At one point, clouds rolled in, and it began to rain.
When the rain died down, the sun came out, and the world was clear and bright again!
My cat companion watched me most of the time, and alternated between sitting in the grass, wandering around by my feet, and climbing the rock and dirt blocks directly around us.
Reminder to self—stay out of the sunlight! Just in case I don’t remember…
I looked at the cover of the diary.
Oh yeah, I thought. I guess I already thought of that!
When I started paying attention again, I noticed the cat.
He was still with me.
Still with me? I had a memory of this black and white cat, the small creature down by my feet with the green eyes. And a memory of a village. Last night maybe?
It was hard to tell.
This journal I’m writing in right now had two previous entries. Was I the writer? I couldn’t remember!
All I could recall was the cat. And a village…
Zombies attacking villagers.
According to this book’s cover, I should stay out of the sunlight. It looks like at the end of these last two nights, I was having problems catching on fire whenever the morning came—at least on the last two nights I wrote about!
Was it last night? Whatever…
Sunlight bad. Good to know.
I supposed, since I was standing under an oak tree with apples in its branches, that I wrote the last entry the night before, where I left off. The diary mentioned standing under an oak tree with apples in its branches…
I really didn’t remember!
In the distance, across the grassy field, I saw a village. A single torch cast a light from a lamp post in the center of town. Forms moved around among the streets and crop fields.
I was so hungry.
Well, if I were to believe this book in my hands, then it was likely that the villagers living there were all dead or gone. So, the folks I saw moving around over there were probably other zombies.
Easy enough to find out, I thought.
As I stepped out from under the oak tree into the open night sky, the cat followed.
“Meow,” he said.
“What is it?” I replied.
The kitty cat ran up to my legs. “Meow, purrrr…”
I reached down and stroked his head with my clumsy zombie hand. “Let’s go, cat,” I said.
It was funny that I couldn’t remember anything other than the cat and the village. Maybe if I investigated the village, I might remember more! I could read and re-read what the journal said, of course, and I did read it, but nothing helped me remember.
But—if—according to this book, I started each night not remembering anything, then why did I suddenly remember the cat?
So confusing…
The cat and I approached the village to find it empty, aside from the undead. The doors of most of the little homes were destroyed, the crops were ready to harvest but left unattended, and only mobs roamed the streets.
I approached the town’s water supply and looked down into the well at the zombies climbing up from its depths…
“Hey,” a male voice said from behind me. “It’s you!”
I turned.
Standing in an open doorway of an abandoned house was a skeleton. He looked like all of the other skeletons I’d seen before, but had a pack on his back, and his eyes were different! Instead of the black, empty eye sockets of the random skeletons I saw out in the wild, this undead fellow had tiny, pin-point dots of red light in his otherwise dark eye cavities. The little red lights darted about as he looked around, but mostly focused on me. The skeleton’s special eyes made him look more intelligent somehow…
“Who are you?” I asked.
He walked over, stepping around the mostly mindless undead. His bones clunked.
“You zombies…” he said with a smirk. “You forget everything, don’t you?” He slung his bow around his shoulder and onto his back. “I’m Skeleton Steve. You know me!”
I pondered his bony face. The lively red lights in his eye sockets didn’t seem familiar…
“I’m sorry, Skeleton Steve,” I said. “I don’t remember you.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” he said. “Lots of zombies have memory problems, it seems.”
“My name is…” I paused. Thought about it. “My name—”
“Meow,” the cat said, wandering around my legs. He looked up at us with brilliant, green eyes.
“Uh,” I said, “I don’t remember my name!”
Skeleton Steve put a bony hand on my shoulder. “Sorry, young zombie,” he said. “That must be hard to deal with! I mean, if you care, that is…”
“I do!” I said. “I do care! This has been a strange … few nights? It’s hard to tell. I can’t remember anything! But I think,” I said, pulling out my journal, “I think that I want to…”
“Interesting,” Skeleton Steve said, looking down at the cat, then, looking at the book in my hands.
“How do you know me, Skeleton Steve?”
“Well,” he said, pointing at my journal. “I’m the one who gave you that book!”
“Really?” I replied.
I tried to remember. Putting some clumsy fingers to my head, I thought hard and tried to recall meeting a skeleton and taking this book any time in the past—ever.
I couldn’t remember anything!
“Yes,” Skeleton Steve said. “I gave this book to you about a week ago, back at the village where I found you.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Oh,” Skeleton Steve said, “I like to read the stories of others I encounter out here.” He stopped and looked around us. Some zombies wandered by aimlessly. I heard the hiss of a spider jumping off of a roof. The clatter of another skeleton moving around somewhere. “I’m an adventurer,” he said. “I like to learn about others’ adventures too—their stories, where they came from, where they’re going. So I gave you that journal, and asked you to write in it. It was the first time I ever asked a zombie to write a journal, too! I didn’t know what to expect—especially from a zombie who was once a villager.”
A zombie villager? Really?
Was I a villager before I turned into a zombie??
“Do you know who I am, Skeleton Steve?”
He regarded me for a moment. “Nope. Sorry, zombie,” he said. “I can see from your face that you were a villager, as opposed to most of these other zombies around here.” He waved a bony hand around us. “And I can see that you were a young villager. A teenager, maybe—not quite grown up. If I knew more about villagers, I might be able to tell more about you and your family from your clothes. Or rather, what’s left of them. And did you know that you have a cat following you around?”
That was a lot to process!
“Um,” I said, “Cat … uh, yes.” I looked down at the kitty cat, who sat on the cobblestone street. The little creature looked up at me.
“Meow,” he said.
“So,” Skeleton Steve said. “Did you write anything in there?”
I looked down at the cat. “Where?”
“The journal, of course!” Skeleton Steve relied with a laugh.
“Oh, yeah!” I replied. I handed the journal to him. “At least I think so—I don’t remember. But I mentioned coming to this village last night, when all of the villagers here were killed or run off, and there are no villagers here now. I think I wrote it. I do remember being in this village last night…”
Skeleton Steve looked up at me briefly from the pages.
“Interesting,” he said. “It must be very strange forgetting so much! That’s how we got separated, you know!”
“How?” I asked.
“We were at the other village,” he said. “Back where I found you. When I gave you the journal to start documenting our adventure, we were separated for the morning into different safe places—because of the daylight! When night finally fell, you were gone!”
Skeleton Steve looked back to the journal, finished reading my entries, then closed the book with a thump, and handed it back to me.
“Do you think I just forgot and wandered off?” I said.
“Yep,” Skeleton Steve said. “I assumed you went up into the mountains. I looked for you up there for a while, in the snow, but I couldn’t find you, and figured I wouldn’t see you again. I’m so surprised we bumped into each other here!”
He and I spoke for a while about the last week of being separated, but I didn’t really remember anything that happened then! Skeleton Steve was able to figure out that I did indeed go up into the mountains like he thought, because of my descriptions of the area in the journal. He also asked about my notes regarding the cat from the previous night.
“I don’t know,” I said. “He just came up to me in the snow and hasn’t left, according to the book. Strange thing is though,” I said, looking down at the kitty cat’s green eyes staring up at me, “I remember him! From last night. I don’t really remember anything, night by night, but I remember him, and I remember this place…”
“That is interesting,” Skeleton Steve said. “You don’t know the cat’s name though?”
“No,” I said.
Skeleton Steve crouched down, and the cat approached him, rubbing his head on the skeleton’s bony, outstretched hand.
“Meow, purrrr purrrr,” the cat said.
“Hey,” Skeleton Steve said. “Did you know he has a collar?”
“No I didn’t,” I said. “Maybe his name is on it!”
“Let’s see,” the skeleton said. He reached out further, and pulled the cat close to him, twisting the red collar around his furry neck with long and bony fingers until he found a nametag.
“What’s it say?”
“Mr. … Whiskers?” he said. “Mr. Whiskers, ha ha.”
“Meow,” the cat said.
Skeleton Steve crouched, laughing and holding Mr. Whiskers, who was happy to get the attention, while I was suddenly hit with a flood of memories!
Thoughts raced through my sluggish zombie mind, and I stood, mouth gaping, taking it all in. I remembered finding the cat in the jungle. Memories of thick, green trees all around me! I could see another villager, standing next to me. A teenager like me, giving me pieces of fish. I could remember waking up in my bed, and Mr. Whiskers sleeping on the red blanket down by my feet. I remembered trying to stop him from chasing the chickens that belonged to…
… Belonged to …
“Zombie?” Skeleton Steve said. “Are you okay?”
Mr. Whiskers darted away from Skeleton Steve and circled around my legs. “Meow.”
“I just …” I said. “I just remembered the cat!” I looked down at the small, friendly creature. “Mr. Whiskers is my cat!”
“No kidding?” Skeleton Steve said. He stood, and looked truly surprised.
“I remember,” I added, “bits and pieces … about Mr. Whiskers.”
“Do you remember your name?” Skeleton Steve said. “Who you are?”
I thought about it.
“No,” I replied. “I don’t remember more about myself except … well, some things. Not much…”
I thought about the blanket.
“Do you remember your parents? Or where you came from?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “I don’t remember!”
We stood in silence for a while. Zombies moaned and moved around us.
“But I,” I began, “I … want to remember! I want to find out who I was and where I came from—I want to find my home!”
Skeleton Steve put his hand on my shoulder again. He thought for a time…
“Well,” he said, “we can start with the village where I found you. Maybe that was your home.”
Of course! But are there still villagers alive there? Or was it a village destroyed by the undead just like the one we stood in now?
“It’s worth a try,” I said. “But are the villagers there still alive? How did you find me?”
“They were alive when I was there last,” Skeleton Steve replied. “They were all inside when I found you there, bashing on the doors with all the others. Then, you and I started talking—talking about the journal and all, and we left the village.”
“Do you think I have family there?” I asked.
Skeleton Steve shrugged. “I guess we can see…”
We talked well into the day, taking cover in a ruined house when the sun came up and the deadly daylight lit most of the other zombies on fire. I spent the rest of that day writing in my journal, and wondering how much I would remember…
…
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