So yeah. There I was,
A rushing river to my left, open plains to my right, and a dream.
A mud hut.
Not just any mud hut either, but a cozy little fortress. Walls thick enough to keep the wind out, a grass roof that won’t collapse on me, and maybe even a tiny fireplace if I got ambitious.
A real home.
…Or, at least, a slightly upgraded dirt hole.
How to build one?
Not a clue.
But I’d figure it out eventually.
I popped a leaf into my mouth.
The second the leaf hit my tongue; my whole body jolted awake.
It was like someone had drop-kicked my brain into overdrive.
One second, I was half-dead, sore, and borderline catatonic.
The next? I was a god.
My heart kicked into second gear. My fingers felt electric.
I had the sudden, overwhelming urge to write a 20-page research paper, run a marathon, and solve the mysteries of the universe all at once.
I am unstoppable.
I am productivity incarnate.
I am—
Staring at a field of grass, realizing I have no idea where to start.
…Oh.
…Oh no.
…Shit.
Stop. Think. What was step one?
Aha!
Step one was to make some room.
I reached down, grabbed a handful of grass, and pulled.
…Nothing happened.
I pulled harder.
The grass did not give a single fuck.
You’ve gotta be kidding me.
I dug in my heels, braced my back, and yanked like my life depended on it.
POP.
The grass ripped free all at once—and I immediately launched myself backward onto my ass.
Dirt flew up into my mouth, which was both disgusting and oddly fibrous.
So yeah. Grass-clearing? Not as easy as it looked.
But eventually, and with enough work, I ended up with a decent amount of open space and a huge pile of raw resources.
This was good.
I could use grass for rope, as kindling, and even as materials for my future hut.
I was officially a grass farmer now.
Oh well. Small price to pay for a peaceful life.
Hours passed as I kept clearing more room.
My back ached. My hands were raw. I had somehow managed to get dirt in places I didn’t even know existed.
This was actual manual labour.
I was not built for this.
Until eventually I had a massive space to work with, and an even larger pile of grass.
I stood there, hands on my hips, surveying my glorious, barren patch of dirt.
“Alright,” I said out loud, as if I had a plan.
“Phase one: complete. Phase two…”
Silence.
…I had no goddamn idea what phase two was.
“think, think, think…” I muttered, trying to summon my inner survival expert.
Nothing. Just static.
……
………
Then my stomach growled.
Right. Food.
I’d been ignoring it so far thanks to the magical energy leaf, but the hunger wasn’t going away.
What were my options?
I rubbed my chin.
Hunting? No. That would 100% end in disaster.
Maybe I could eat more of the energy leaves? I’d probably survive, but I’d also vibrate into another plane of existence.
Mutant ants? Absolutely not.
That left fishing.
That sounded doable.
I stood at the river’s edge, staring at the water like it had personally offended me.
“Alright. Time to fish.”
I took off my pants—strictly for practicality, not fashion, though I wouldn’t say no to a fresh wash.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
As soon as I stepped in, the cold hit like a tax audit from hell.
Every nerve in my body instantly regretted my choices.
My brain: Oh we’re dying? Cool, cool, cool.
My body: RETREAT! RETREAT!
Too late. I was committed.
On the bright side, there were fish.
Tiny little things, sure, they were only about the size of my hand after all. And if this was the worst the universe could throw at me then this would be easy.
Or so I thought.
Attempt #1: Stealth Mode.
I stood perfectly still in the water, convinced that if I became one with the river, the fish would come to me.
Ten minutes in: Nothing.
Fifteen minutes in: I was starting to cramp.
Thirty minutes in: A fish swam right up to me… then veered away, like it could sense my failure.
Unbelievable.
Alright alright. Pivot to attempt 2: The Human Bear Trap.
I climbed out of the water and leaned over the edge; hands poised like a hungry bear.
A fish swam by. This was it. My moment.
I lunged—
—And slapped the water so hard it looked like a failed karate move.
The fish? Completely unharmed. Just chilling.
Fuck.
Alright. Time for attempt #3: Direct combat.
No more kid gloves. Time to fully commit.
I launched myself at a fish.
I caught it.
For half a second.
Then it thrashed like a demon-possessed eel.
Before I could react, I was airborne.
SPLASH.
I went down like a corporate drone at a mandatory ‘fun’ event.
I came up spitting sand and cursing the aquatic gods.
That was fucking humiliating.
There had to be a better way.
I lay on my back, staring at the sky, soaking wet and defeated.
“Alright. Think, dumbass.”
I could… make a spear?
No, I’d probably stab myself.
Maybe build a dam?
No, that sounded like work.
Then, as I absently twisted some grass in my fingers… it clicked.
Wait.
Rope.
Net.
HOLY SHIT.
If I made some rope thin enough… wouldn’t that basically just be twine?
And if I could tie twine into loops… that’s basically just a net.
And a net could catch fish.
I was a genius!
I sprinted over to my massive grass pile, plopped my ass down, and started experimenting.
Problem #1 was that the rope I’d made before was way too thick.
The solution? I needed finer fibers.
So I grabbed a rock that fit perfectly into my hand. Pretty sure I’d seen this in a survival show once.
Started pounding the grass, breaking it down into finer fibers.
Started twisting it into rope, the familiar motion coming naturally to me.
And after what felt like a thousand years, I had something twine-like.
I held up my first attempt. It looked solid as can be.
Then I pulled it slightly—
Snap.
…Back to square one.
I tried again. This time the twine wasn’t tight enough and the entire thing unraveled before my eyes.
So if I twisted it too tight the fibers weren’t strong enough to hold the tension.
And if I didn’t twist it hard enough at all the twine would just unravel on me.
Shit.
Time for some good old fashion trial and error.
I spent the next couple hours experimenting, adjusting the pressure of the twine as I went along.
Until eventually I finally had a decent twine sample.
And bonus, it actually looked like real-world twine.
I sat back in amazement, running my fingers over the strand. It wasn’t very long, but at least now I had a proof of concept. I could do this.
I stood up and stretched, reaching my hands out towards the sky…
…Bad idea. My back popped like a cheap glow stick.
I couldn’t even take a moment to bask in my accomplishment though. Not a second to waste.
Next up? The net itself.
Turns out, nets are just a bunch of knots.
How hard could it really be?
Spoiler alert: Extremely Hard.
Even just tying together enough of the strands took the better part of an hour, once I’d figured it out.
Then actually tying the knots into my long piece?
Shocker. It took even longer.
But eventually I tied my final knot and lifted up my masterpiece.
It looked like a net. Felt like a net.
I tossed a rock at it just to be sure.
And the rock sailed straight through a hole the size of my entire torso.
“…Okay. That’s a problem.”
I painstakingly went through and undid every single knot.
My fingers were bleeding, cramping, and I was deeply regretting every life choice I had ever made.
But I refused to quit.
After redoing the same knot four times and resisting the urge to scream, I finally had something that didn’t look like a disaster.
“If this doesn’t work, I’m eating dirt… or ants.”
But at least it looked like it might actually function as a net.
Gently, I walked over to the river, doing everything in my power to not ruin the net before I even got a chance to test it.
Once I was standing over the edge I took a deep breath and locked onto a fish.
This was it.
I hurled the net—
SPLASH.
…Nothing.
The fish wasn’t even close.
In fact, it almost felt like it paused to watch me fail.
Like, if it had a tiny notebook, it would’ve jotted something down.
“Subject: complete dumbass. Can’t throw for shit.”
It even gave me a little wiggle before swimming off.
Was that a taunt? That felt like a taunt.
I squinted at the water.
“Oh it’s personal now.”
The fish did another wiggle.
…Oh, you son of a bitch.
Okay. Adjust aim. Try again.
This time, it landed just right. The fish swam straight in, and—
YES! GOT IT!
I reached for the net and the fish immediately started flopping.
Oh no you don’t—
It almost slipped right out of the net and through my fingers.
I scrambled, lunged, and finally grabbed it like a man possessed.
“VICTORY!” I shouted, holding it up like a legendary artifact.
Then I bonked it with a rock.
Time to start a fire.
I already knew how to do this with friction, so why try something else?
I left the fish in my cleared out patch of dirt and went to fetch some sticks and logs for fuel.
Grabbed some grass, shredded it up, and made a little pile.
Then, using a straight branch, I started rubbing the pile of grass hoping it would catch fire.
10 minutes.
Nothing.
20 minutes.
More nothing.
Just smoke.
I took a deep breath. I will not ragequit survival.
Finally, after what felt like a century, the grass ignited.
I started feeding it slowly, blowing on it between batches of kindling to keep the fire burning.
Eventually I had a solid bonfire going.
I skewered my prized fish on a stick and propped it up to roast.
The smell of roasting fish filled the air.
My stomach growled like an angry god.
I pulled the fish off the fire, blowing on it to cool it down. The skin was perfectly crispy, the juices sizzling.
I hesitated.
What if it tasted awful? What if it made me sick? What if—
I looked at my stomach.
It growled back.
…Screw it.
I took a bite—
And nearly cried.
Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was hunger.
Maybe it was the fact that for the first time in this godforsaken world, something actually went right.
Either way? Best meal of my goddamn life.
I leaned back,, letting the fire warm my aching hands.
I did that.
Me.
I wasn’t just surviving anymore. I was thriving.
Food? Handled.
Fire? Mastered.
Next step? Shelter.
So yeah. There I was.
A rushing river to my left, open plains to my right, and a dream.
A mud hut.
How to build one?
Not a clue.
But I’d figure it out eventually.