The Story of Herobrine part 1

The Story of Herobrine
He lay on the small bed, his lone relative at his side. Notch. The two brothers had always been different. Notch, the older one, was bold, always seeking new and crazier ways to get a thrill rush. On the other hand, the younger of the two was quiet, calculative, and enjoyed peaceful thinking. He created, glowing in pride whenever he made something worth the time and effort he took. Although they had their differences, they seemed to get along fine. Notch, among the slowly growing band of Minecraftians, had become their leader over time. Not Herobrine though. And when the quieter, artistic, Herobrine had stayed out too late; his adventurous older brother wasn't there to help him.
"Brother," murmured Herobrine, "Let me be the leader for today. Let me be important; needed."
"You know I can't do that, Brine." He said stiffly. His dying sibling looked up at him with dismay, a gentle flair of anger in his eyes.
"I don't want to go out angry," Countered Herobrine, his voice beginning to fail.
"Get some rest," Muttered the eldest, standing up to leave. His brother took his hand, a last pleading look burning in his eyes. He looked down and sighed. He ruffled his inferior's hair and walked out.
Anger burned at Herobrine's heart. He never had known true anger. For all his life he had stepped aside to let Notch make the decisions while he trailed behind, suppressing his envy into a thin glass bottle.
That bottle just exploded.
He looked outside to see his elder talking carefree outside to a few friends as his brother died inside.
Sadness overwhelmed him. He wanted to be far away from his brother. It was the only way to keep his anger from him. He had to protect Notch from his own self.
He walked through the corridors, blood trickling from his side. The occasional villager would look towards him with a shocked confusion on their faces.
He began to feel weak as he entered a dusty room. He saw the mineral closet, and he walked towards a small chest labeled 'Obsidian'.
He popped open the chest and pulled out the necessary ingredients. He created the basic frame of the accursed hellgate and made a quick decision. He wrote down everything; his bitter anger bubbling out of his heart and onto the paper. He began to cry, and his sadness turned into an overwhelming anger. He finished the note and addressed it to Notch. He set fire to the portal and stepped into it.
Herobrine opened his eyes when he was hit with a sudden blast of heat. His hazel eyes watered at the sight of the red and orange landscape of the hell world. The Nether. He heard the moaning of a Ghast, the fabled flying creature that dominated the lava world. He dove into cover, a netherrack ledge barely big enough to fit him. He cried out in pain as he wrenched a few stiches on a wound he'd received from a skeleton earlier that day.
He peered over the rock ledge and his breath caught on his throat. He saw an injured Ghast lying on hot soul sand. Its cries even more heart breaking than before. He swallowed hard and stood from his hiding spot. Walking towards it, the Ghast opened its fiery eyes. Alarm shot through it, but it couldn't muster a fireball. It was Herobrines turn to be shocked when great silver tears began to stream from its eyes. He cautiously stepped forward, his bare feet burning on the rock as he approached the wounded creature. It wailed in agony, a pitiful sound trying to show some hint of warning. The young boy walked towards the middle of the ghast and saw a long cut through its stomach, next to it was a cracked egg.
Herobrine made a strange decision. He ripped off part of his shirt and began to seal up the cut as best as possible. He blocked the blood from pouring out and nestled the egg closer to her white skin. He patched the ghast up as best as he could and sat next to it. Patiently waiting for his own time to be up, he fell asleep.
Waking up to a cold burn, he sat up and sunk slightly. He realized with a shock that he was sitting in a nest of soul sand way above the portal. He spotted it easily and he smiled. He could go back if he wanted to. He glanced at the female ghast he had patched up; she was curled around her egg protectively.
The young man suddenly felt nauseous. He lay back down and in the process ripped open stitching's holding together a long cut in his leg. He cried out and felt blood gush from the wound. He felt numb. Very numb.
It was over.
Herobrine's cry echoed through the fiery depths, the sound eventually fading away. The mother ghast rose from her spot and silently glided over to the boy. Her eyes began to tear up again, the boy had saved her life and she had done nothing to repay the favor. A single silver droplet fell off her pale face and dropped into his open mouth.
The creature that brings death to most restored life to one person:
Herobrine.
He opened his eyes and gasped. The liquid burning his throat.
Hatred.
The second he was restored he remembered why he was here. His brother had pushed him too far.
Revenge.
Not on the people who lived there, it was not their fault.
Notch. It was Notch's fault.
He had died. And he had a goal now. With death he had received new life. But not any kind of life. In the few seconds he had been dead, his eyes had gone white. No permanent damage, but now glowed with unholy anger.
Herobrine rose. His new purpose for existence fresh in his mind.