22nd May 2009, 07:18 PM #1
Hey, homes! I'm Drew A. Blank. I'm a beginner to fan fiction-- or any fiction, for that matter. (In fact, I'm new to Bulbagarden. Yep, I'm fresh meat over here.)
I don't know what you'd call this since I don't know the fancy category names, but I think I heard the phrase "new trainer fiction," which seems to sum it up.
I don't think I have the authority to rate it. Technically, if Bambi wasn't professionally rated, it would be rated NC-17 (ha). I suppose I'd rate it PG to PG-13 for violence. There might be some drug reference, but probably only for humor (agh, that sounded really bad). Like, "Wow, your cookies are addictive. How'd you lace 'em?"
As I said, I'm a beginner, and I know I'm not that good. I fear hatred so much that I've already prepared a defense against the tomatoes, something I'd like to call Operation Human Shield.
But, yeah. Please comment and give feedback!
Drew. A Blank
Chapter 1: Guitar Hero
"Oh no, who's dead?" Dr. Anto said as he answered Zack's discourteous pounding. Zack didn’t respond to the caustic comment. He didn’t think he could, anyway. Not without crying.
Dr. Anto’s eyes filled with disappointment in his late guest. He sighed, "Oh, Zack…”
"It’s gone, isn’t it?" Zack asked, lowering his head and letting his Red Sox cap hide his disappointment.
Anto said, "Zack, I wait until noon for you to come."
Zack wanted to hit something, which he would have done if there was something other than Anto's face to hit. Anto’s face might not have been a bad candidate, but everyone in Myrtle Town knew Dr. Anto; and everyone in town, including (and especially) Zack, liked him.
Anto lectured, "This happens every year! Why can't you just get up at a reasonable hour? You know I can only get one Pokémon from Professor Oak."
Zack folded his arms, looked away, and said, "I couldn’t sleep.”
After staring at him for a second, Anto said, “Maybe it would’ve been easier if you had put down the Guitar Hero controller.”
“Why would you think I played X-box all night? I’m a responsible—“
Anto’s laughter cut Zack off. "You have to do better than that, kid."
Frustrated yet impressed, Zack asked, "How the heck can you tell?"
"It's all in your eyes. I can see that you're lying. But, besides that, I can tell that you've been staring at a screen for a while."
Zack mumbled, "Stupid… personality expert..."
Zack switched to the former topic. “So you don’t have any Pokémon?”
“No, Zack. I don’t have anything.”
Zack was desperate. “Come on. I’d even take a Magikarp.”
Anto replied, “I’d pay good money to watch you train a Magikarp.”
Zack sat on the steps, wrapped his arms around his legs, and rested his chin on his knees. Anto tilted his head, looking at Zack with sympathy. Zack wasn’t usually upset when he missed out on the Pokémon of the Year. Anto sat down next to him, saying, “Come on, Zack. This is the fourth time this has happened, and you usually just shake it off. What’s so special about this time?”
“I really wanted to go this time. It just feels right, y’know?”
Zack sighed. “I don’t know. It just seems like I’m supposed to go this time. Like it’s the perfect time. Like I’m supposed to do something; y’know, be somebody. Heck, I have to get out of this town! It’s like I can smell a cookie, and I know it’s there, but I can’t tell what kind it is… Just that it’s pretty darn tasty.”
This sparked Anto’s interest. He realized that Zack was one of the people Professor Oak was talking about: someone special; someone who could really be something. Zack, out of all people. He had made a mistake. Still, he kept his cool, saying, “Wow, Zack. That’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” Zack said in a playfully rude manner.
“No, I’m serious,” continued Anto with a falsely serious face.
“We could harness your talent and make millions.”
“Maybe I’ll write a tragedy about my depressing life story, staring my sarcastic neighbor who never cared about me.”
“And I’ll write the forward.”
Zack burst out laughing. “How does even that make sense?”
Anto joined in the laughter, but he could also sense Zack’s pain. After the chuckling subsided, Anto said, “You’re really upset, aren’t you?”
“Ah… I don’t know.” Zack replied while avoiding looking at Anto’s face.
“Maybe next year.”
“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty!” mocked a soft voice from the sidewalk. Zack stood up and faced the girl as a suspect facing a judge. The girl skipped up the steps and stared right into Zack’s eyes to savor his pain.
The girl had blonde hair—a naturally stripped blonde. Her green, textured eyes matched her forest green skirt; and her white tank top with green outlining, a green peace bracelet, and an emerald heart necklace, she made her favorite color obvious. On her shoulder sat a baby Eevee— half the size of an adult Eevee at six inches tall.
“Hey, Susan,” he said despondently, as though his soul was about to be ripped from his body.
“We almost had a prince kiss you,” Susan said with a wide smile. Her Eevee also smiled at him with soft, innocent eyes— and with absolutely no idea what its trainer was saying; no idea of the crushing emotional pain which Susan was inflicting upon Zack.
“Hi, Susan,” Anto said uneasily, standing up to greet the girl while combing his black hair with his fingers. The psychology professor could feel tension between the kids—but it didn’t take an expert; everyone in Myrtle knew about the hate that had been brewing between the neighbors for ten years.
“How’s your new Pokémon?” Anto continued.
Susan took her Eevee off her shoulder and shoved it into Zack’s face, “Shawn is so cute! Isn’t he, Zack? Huh? What do you think? Isn’t he the best little Pokémon ever? With his tiny ears and fluffy tail, and his adorable smile… Eevees are rare, you know! If only you could have such a perfect, beautiful Pokémon!”
Zack pushed the Eevee away and, raising his voice, said, “You know what? Just shut up!”
“Zack!” scolded Anto.
“You do this every year!” Zack continued. “You don’t get a Pokémon for training. You just get one so I won’t have one!”
“Maybe it’s because I’m saving the poor things you,” Susan said with a shrug. “Besides, I was just waiting for the perfect time to train them. It’s not my fault you’re too lazy to wake up.”
Zack snapped. His rage had boiled for too long. He stepped closer to Susan, shouting, “Well, maybe I don’t need your stupid Pokémon! Maybe I’ll be a real man and work for myself, dang it! I don’t need to force somebody else to fight for me!”
“Oh, really?” Susan replied, finding much amusement in Zack’s pitiful efforts to win. He couldn’t win. He was too pathetic. Shawn, however, was uncomfortable with Zack’s arguing and was only comforted by Susan’s confidence. That confidence in a trainer is what makes a strong, arrogant Pokémon. “Zack, you are such a loser.”
“Zack, I don’t think you’re thinking this through,” Anto cut in, stepping between the kids. He didn’t really think Zack would hurt Susan, but he knew that Zack was scaring Shawn.
Zack sighed. Susan was right. He was a loser. And he’d always be a loser. He walked away. He had to get out of there.
Zack leaned on the arm of the bench, studying the adjacent lamppost. The bench faced the street, away from Myrtle’s beach. Nobody would want to look at the ugly beach, anyway: the waves never exceeded two feet tall, and the sand extended only so far as to offer little room to sunbathe. Littered with rocks and inorganic material, the water contained no fish; the beach was so obscure that nobody walked on it. Still, the sea breeze took the fragrance of salt water all through the town.
“Hey, loser,” said a boy who was passing by. He was wearing a Yankees baseball cap; this boy was an automatic enemy.
“Hey, loser,” Zack replied without taking his eyes off the lamppost.
The boy asked, “What are you doing?”
“You didn’t get your Pokémon, did you?” He was familiar with Zack’s failed attempts to get a Pokémon.
The boy had been waiting for a window of opportunity like this all day. He exclaimed, “Well, I got mine from my—”
The boy was annoyed by Zack’s rude yet appropriate irrelevance. But, before the boy could reply, a speaker on the lamp post announced, “All beginner trainers: Come to the Beach House.” It didn’t repeat its announcement.
“What was that?” Zack asked.
“All of the beginner trainers are invited to join a competition,” the kid answered proudly. “Too bad you can’t enter!”
Zack had been staring at that post for thirty minutes. For some reason, he was drawn to do whatever it told him to do.
“Where is this beach house?” Zack asked.
“It’s right behind you, genius,” the kid answered.
Zack turned around. A small, old, wooden shack was directly behind him. It looked as bad at the beach.
“Why would you want to come, anyway?”
Zack ignored him and walked to the house.
At first, Zack merely watched everyone else enter the shack, playing with his cross necklace. There weren’t many beginner trainers in Myrtle—in fact, there weren’t many trainers at all. Only about fifteen kids showed up. A short, old man stood at the entrance, greeting those who entered. At least, he sounded like an old man; a brown, tattered hood covered his face with a shadow. He had propped open the plank of wood that served as a door with his foot, and he was resting his hands on a staff.
Susan was the last to arrive, and Zack went in with her. Susan acted as though she didn’t know him—you know, for the sake of others noticing them together. She wouldn’t want people to think that she hung out with Zack— yuck!
The room was cramped and uncomfortable, even with the few kids. Zack felt hot in his thin black jacket (literally, not— well, slightly figuratively). And, it was dark; the only light came from cracks in the wood. The old man entered after everyone else did, closed the door, leaned his staff against the wall, and stood on a folding chair. Since Zack and Susan were the last two in, they were the closest to the speaker.
“Listen up, kids!” said the old man in a surprisingly strong voice. “The Pokémon League is starting a competition for beginning trainers all over Kanto. The first one hundred trainers to reach the Indigo Plateau with eight badges get to compete in Round Two.”
“What happens in Round Two?” a trainer blurted out.
“I’ll tell you after you pass Round One. Now, when you get to the Indigo Plateau, there will be an obvious sign showing you were to go, so don’t worry about that.”
“What do we win?” interrupted another trainer.
“Ah, you rude kids!” uttered the old man. “I was getting to that. The Grand Prize is any Pokémon you choose.”
All the trainers began to whisper to each other. One finally asked, “So, by any Pokémon, do you mean…”
“I mean any Pokémon you can possibly dream up. How does the rare Pokémon Dragonite sound? Or the legendary bird Moltres? Or how about the extinct Pokémon Kabutops? Hey, you can even make up your own—say you want a blue llama with white spikes. I’ll get you whatever you can imagine.”
All the trainers were silent for several seconds. They stared at the man; everyone was silently questioning his sanity.
Finally, one trainer shouted, “Yeah right!”
The broken silence seemed to allow everyone else to speak in a cacophony of gibberish. The man was crazy!
“Kids,” the man said, trying to gather their attention again.
“Should I prove it?”
“Yeah! Prove it! Prove it!” cheered the trainers.
He picked up a staff. “All right, what would you like to see?”
With her hands on her hips, Susan said, “How about a Caterpie?”
He held the staff in front of him. It didn’t seem to do anything. One would think a super-magical staff would glow, shake, make buzzing sounds; at least something. Everyone was unimpressed. But, before they could protest, a Caterpie appeared on the ground, wiggling as Caterpies do.
Everyone stared in disbelief.
“Got your attention?” asked the man. “This staff doesn’t have much juice in it left, so it will only be able to produce one more Pokémon. And don’t you ask me how it works, because I have no clue.”
The trainers spoke among themselves. Susan said to Zack, “Sweet! I want a Lapras… or a Dragonite…”
“That’s pretty amazing,” Zack said a concerned tone. Zack was suspicious—ah, but Zack was always suspicious.
“Sign up as you leave,” said the speaker. “You are dismissed.”
Zack helped him down from the chair, saying, “Careful, buddy.”
The man smiled at him, and as he did, Zack could see the edge of his face. It wasn’t as gnarly as Zack thought it would be. In fact, the man’s smile itself was perfect—straight and pure white. There was something odd about this short, old man.
Zack sneaked out of the shack and sat on the bench again. Susan joined him for no other reason than to revisit the crime scene.
“Did you sign up?” Zack asked.
“Yep!” Susan replied cheerfully. “I’ll leave with my Pokémon tomorrow morning. I already have four Pokémon, you know. And this contest seems just like the Pokémon League, except it’s a race. It sounds pretty fun!”
“Yeah,” Zack responded— quite absentmindedly—while looking down. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Susan said. She looked away, trying to find something to think about during the awkward silence.
“I just…” continued Zack with a pause. “…really wanted to go, you know? And I was thinking…”
“Well, that’s an improvement!” Susan mocked.
Zack rolled his eyes and continued to marinate in his idea. Finally, he stood up, saying, “I mean, why can’t I go out without Pokémon?”
Susan asked, “Zack, are you okay? I mean, I don’t know why I’m asking you this now, but you do seem crazier than you usually are.”
“Heck,” Zack said, ignoring Susan and expanding his idea, “why should we make Pokémon fight for us like this? Why can’t we just work for ourselves?”
Zack’s crazy ideas caught the old man’s attention. He walked to the bench.
Susan said, “How would you even do that? There’s a reason they’re called Pokémon trainers, you know.”
Zack was getting excited. “Well, the entire idea of Gym battles it conquering the different elemental types, and isn’t learning about them like conquering them?”
The man asked, “What is your name, son?”
Zack answered, “Chase Cool, sir.”
“Right,” said the man. He turned to Susan and asked, “Sweetie, what is the lad’s real name?”
“Zachary Storm,” said Susan proudly, smiling at Zack. “Anyway, I’d like to see you pull that off. I mean, even if you did manage to persuade the Gym leaders, you won’t survive traveling, with all those wild Pokémon around. Zack, you’d get yourself hurt!”
“Oh, yeah?” argued Zack. “I might just prove you wrong.”
“Uh-huh, yep, I’ll promise you can’t do it,” said Susan.
Zack said, “Yes! It just feels right. This idea— this is my dream. I have to. I have to try. This is what I’m supposed to do, suppose to be. This… I can’t describe it. It feels like… destiny.”
The man piped in, saying, “Z-a-c-h-a-r-y, s-t-o-r-m?”
Susan nodded without taking her eyes off Zack. He was out of his darn mind.
The man turned to Zack and said, “Go for it, kid.”
“I will!” exclaimed Zack, now excited. “I’ll go for it!”
“You’re not serious, are you?” asked Anto, making himself visible. He must have been spying on them. How creepy. “You know your mother wouldn’t let you.”
“I know,” replied Zack. “So, I won’t tell her. I’ll just go home, get my bag, and leave.”
Before Anto could object, Zack ran home.
He said few words to his mother when he got there, but he gladly choked down his lunch as fast as he could. His mother, Charlotte Storm, stood and watched him eat, holding his backpack.
“It’s great that you got your Pokémon, Zack,” she said— with a hint of sorrow. She didn’t want her son to leave.
Zack only said, “Yeah, but I need to hurry up if I want to get to Viridian City before it gets dark. It’s already 1:30.”
“Won’t you stop in Pallet Town?” she asked. “It’s closer.”
Zack shuddered, saying, “Gross, I’m not stopping there…”
“Oh, Zack,” said Charlotte, “your dislike of Pallet Town is all made up…”
Zack finished off his drink. “Well, I want to make some progress. This competition is a race, you know.”
“Yeah, I still don’t understand that.”
Zack got up, snatched his backpack, and rushed out the door, saying, “Thanks! Bye, Mom!”
“Bye, Zack,” said Charlotte after Zack had already slammed the door. She started to put Zack’s plate in the sink.
Then, Zack crawled back in and sheepishly hugged his mother. She smiled, hugged him back, and said, “I’ll miss you, sweetie.”
“I’ll come back, in one piece, Mom,” Zack assured her.
After his official departure, Zack headed for the forest at the edge of town—the way to Viridian City. There wasn’t a route that connected Myrtle to Viridian, but Zack had gone hiking to Viridian so many times that he thought he could get there safely.
Zack took a deep breath. He was staring right in front of the forest’s trees. This was it. The beginning of his adventure. He savored the moment for a ridiculously long time. And when he was just about to continue, he heard a voice calling, “Hey, Zack!”
Zack turned around. Dr. Anto was running toward him. While Anto was still a short distance away, Zack said, “You won’t change my mind, Anto.”
When Anto reached him, he handed Zack a Pokédex, saying, “If you’re going to get yourself killed, you may as well take this.”
“What’s this?” Zack asked.
The blue light on the object shined as the Pokédex said, “I’m Dexter, a self-updating Pokédex created by Dr. Anto Sivirichi.”
“You just point it at a Pokémon and it’ll tell you about it,” explained Anto.
“Dexter?” Zack asked with disgust. “What kind of a name is that? Couldn’t you name it something like… Larry?”
The Pokédex lit up again and said, “I’m Larry, a Pokédex assigned to Zachary Storm. If lost or stolen, I cannot be replaced.”
“See?” said Anto. “The biggest problem with Pokédexes is that they need to be updated constantly. But, this one will update itself. When you run into new Pokémon information, it’ll add it to its memory—and it’ll even name a new Pokémon until scientists can find an official name… Boy, Zack, you are lucky. This is the latest one that I’ve been working on.”
“Sweet!” said Zack, putting his Pokédex into his pocket.
“Be careful, Zack,” Anto warned. “I don’t want to be responsible for your death.” After the two exchanged goodbyes, Anto left Zack to his crazy ideas.
Zack continued into the forest. He concentrated on those first few steps, for they were the beginning of his journey— the beginning of his adventure. This was his destiny.
The old man watched Zack a short distance away. He let out a deep sigh, looked up into the sky, and whispered, “Go for it, kid.”
Last edited by Drew_A_Blank; 22nd May 2009 at 09:51 PM.
22nd May 2009, 08:23 PM #2
Owner of a shiny Nidoking
Re: Chasing Cool
Well I must say it is pretty decent for someone writing their first story but I'm not gonna flame on you. It does need some work but if I were you I would do that by making the next part better. You seem to switch from third person to omniscient in the story however which is a big no no! Also add some conflict!! If the character gets everything he wants and everything is fine and dandy the story will lose it's interest very quicly. I'm only saying this to help you because it seems like a good story in develpoment with some potential errors. Another thing Myrtle Beach is not in Kanto. Neither is the Yankees or the Red Sox. In fact they are not even in the sreies. If you even mention things like these guys are going to be on you like white on rice. All in all I'd have to give it a 2.5
Last edited by The King of Nidos; 22nd May 2009 at 08:30 PM.
22nd May 2009, 08:40 PM #3
Re: Chasing Cool
*shrinks back in fear* I'm sorry, I usually don't let people read my fiction.
Originally Posted by The King of Nidos
It's not Myrtle Beach. It's Myrtle Town-- you know, to go with the the color series of Kanto towns (Myrtle is a shade of green).
The Yankees/Red Sox thing... Okay, I'm sorry 'bout that, too. This wasn't originally a story, it was a game. The cap is an inside joke, because the friend I was playing with (Zack) likes the Yankees. I probably shouldn't have done that, but I accidentally added background to that hat...
And conflict-- well, it wouldn't be a story without conflict! After Zack starts, he has to struggle for everything-- even if he had to get a phone number.
Wh-what do you think I could do to improve?
22nd May 2009, 08:50 PM #4
Owner of a shiny Nidoking
Re: Chasing Cool
First off copy and paste this onto microsoft office and use spell check. Second use more sensory words. Like instead of saying a boy ran across the field. Say a boy dashed across the field. Last but not least...Be more descriptive!!! I could barely visualise this in my head.
22nd May 2009, 09:18 PM #5
Re: Chasing Cool
22nd May 2009, 09:25 PM #6
Owner of a shiny Nidoking
Re: Chasing Cool
That is exactly correct. I would say stick with a third person point of view mainly only knowing what the main character is thinking inside his head and not knowing what the other characters are thinking in their heads unless they reveal it. It adds more mystery to the story. Also yeah I meant grammar check. Haha grammar can be a bitch sometimes lol.
Originally Posted by Drew_A_Blank
22nd May 2009, 09:48 PM #7
Last edited by Drew_A_Blank; 22nd May 2009 at 09:57 PM.
22nd May 2009, 11:50 PM #8
23rd May 2009, 12:17 AM #9
Re: Chasing Cool
I agree with Charsita, I see nothing wrong with this story. The grammar and spelling are fine! Thanks for posting it for us, It was fun to read!
23rd May 2009, 12:28 AM #10
Owner of a shiny Nidoking
Re: Chasing Cool
I never said it was not fun and good. You guys have me all wrong. I'm sorry if I sounded like a dick earlier I mean I was just trying to use some constructive criticism. Oh yeah I have just added Everstone you should add some comments to it as well.
23rd May 2009, 02:02 PM #11
How is forever?
Re: Chasing Cool
This is quite good. Continue!
24th May 2009, 01:35 PM #12
Re: Chasing Cool
Chapter 2: Captain Jack Spearow
Zack spat on the ground—not in a completely disrespectful manner, but in a playful display of his feelings for the ground on which he spat. “Take that, Pallet!” Zack shouted, pointing to the east. The treeless edge of Pallet Town was the half-way mark, and the only recognizable landmark in the trip. “Now, I just have to go north-west.”
The forest was technically a swamp, surrounded by the ocean and the lakes fed by the summer’s high rainfall. Zack’s hikes avoided the lakes, unless the group wanted to play in the Muk-ridden, polluted, scum-covered water. The pine, Cypress, and oak trees were so dense that their leaves blocked most of the sky. Leaves, needles, and twigs littered the ground.
Since there was no path, Zack would have to guess where he was going; and since he oh-so-wisely didn’t bring a compass, he had to rely on his superior sense of direction. Thankfully, Pallet’s side of the forest was cared for properly— but, still, Zack knew he would have to wade through some brush.
“Well, at least I’ll start seeing Pokémon,” Zack continued. “And I’ll put Larry to some use.” As Zack continued, Pidgey flew overhead, landing on a low-lying branch to his right. From inside Zack’s pocket, Larry said, “Pidgey, the Tiny Bird Pokémon.”
“Larry,” said Zack, rolling his eyes. “I know what a Pidgey is. I’m not stupid.”
Zack replied, “That’s right. It was… your… bad… Hey, did you just talk to me?”
“Yes, I did. It seems that we need better expectations of each other.”
Zack was startled— but no real men show their shock, according to Zack and his strange imagination. He scoffed and said, “Well, that’s nice. Maybe I really am going crazy. Just, do your job and tell me what that purple thing is.” He tilted his head toward the Pokémon. If Larry could see the Pidgey from his pocket, Zack decided that he didn’t have to point Larry at the Pokémon.
“That’s a Rattata, the Mouse Pokémon,” replied Larry. “It’s common and a weak, but it gets better with training.”
“Well, Larry, I think I’m going to start doing some training of my own.” Zack took off his backpack and leaned it against a tree.
“What do you mean?” Larry asked.
“Target practice. Help me find a rock.”
“All right.” Larry wiggled out of Zack’s pocket and dropped to the ground.
“Dang!” Zack said, stepping back. “You can move?”
“Yes. Dr. Sivirichi equipped me with wheels. How else was I supposed to protect you?”
Zack chuckled. “That paranoid man needs a girlfriend.”
Rocks are everywhere, aren’t they? Even though Zack lived in the swamp land, he only realized the absence of rocks once he started looking for one. As the Rattata watched him, Zack stared back and said, “I bet you think this funny.” The mouse wiggled its nose.
“Maybe you should toss acorns instead,” said Larry.
Zack liked this idea, mostly because he, like all boys his age, loved to climb. Once Zack hopped up and grabbed the lowest limb of an oak tree, however, Larry changed his mind. From the foot of the tree, Larry said, “Zachary Storm, don’t hurt yourself.”
“Yes, Mom,” Zack replied as he wrapped his legs around the branch. Once he pulled himself up, he saw a hole in the trunk, which must have belonged to some Pokémon— ooh! Acorns! Zack wasn’t about to crawl all along the branches if there was a convenient stash right there. Besides, he just needed a few. He stood up and reached for the hole.
“Zachary Storm, what are you doing?” Larry asked.
“I’m helping myself.” He brought a handful to his face— just to check them out, you know. There were some acorns, but there were more moths.
Zack shrieked in the manliest way possible, jumping out of the tree without considering the consequences.
“What? What happened?”
Zack stood up slowly and dusted himself off. “I hate moths.” Larry declared that Zack was overreacting.
“Hey, at least I got some acorns.” He opened his hand to see how many he had— ouch! His hand was swollen!
“I-I think those moths were poisonous,” said Zack. He picked up Larry and let him examine his hand.
“Hmm… It looks like Venomoth poison, but Venomoths are almost five feet tall.”
“Yeah, we’ve got tiny Venomoths here. They stink! They’re not strong, but they’re everywhere.”
“Hmm, I didn’t know about those,” said Larry. “I think I’ll add that to my memory.”
The Rattata was still nearby, nibbling on an acorn that Zack had retrieved.
Zack forced his puffy fingers to grip an acorn as he stared at the Rattata. Fighting the pain, he aimed at the unsuspecting Pokémon. After all his years of baseball, Zack was well prepared to hit a target— but not so much a moving target. The Rattata, however, wasn’t the brightest Sharpie in the drawer; it stayed completely still, even after the acorn hit it.
“That was pathetic, buddy,” Zack called out to the Rattata. “I need a moving target.”
“I told you they were weak,” said Larry. “Maybe you should try Pidgeys instead.”
Zack took Larry’s advice. All along his way to Vermillion City, he hunted Pidgeys; and he missed every single one of them. Zack was also not the brightest Sharpie in the drawer, and Larry did not hesitate to let him know while Zack took a break.
“Whatever, Larry,” said Zack, unable to believe that he was insulted by a machine. He sat against tree and ate the peanut butter sandwich that mother had packed for him. Growing men need food, you know— and sandwiches are definitely man-food, especially the ones prepared by the man’s mother.
Zack continued, saying, “I feel like, if I can just complete this task, it’ll prove that I can do anything if I just try again and again. I mean, it wouldn’t hurt. Besides, we’re making incredible time!” It was around four, and he was already half-way between Pallet Town and Viridian City. Who said he needed to stop in Pallet Town?
While Zack was eating, he searched in his bag for Venomoth poison cure, which obviously wouldn’t be there, even though his mother told him to pack some multiple times.
“This is what I get for stealing some acorns,” Zack said. “Larry, do you believe in karma?”
“No.” Larry answered. “That’s ridiculous.” Zack shrugged and zipped up his backpack; he then focused on his sandwich.
An unpleasant smell upset his appetite, however. Zack said, “Gross! Do you smell that?”
“I can’t smell nor taste, Zachary Storm.”
“Well, it smells horrible. It must be the pollution.”
Another Pidgey! Zack wrapped the sandwich in his napkin, dropped it, and again took aim. Wait, that’s not a Pidgey. What the heck is that thing? Let’s see how fast it can move.
“Zachary Storm,” said Larry, “that’s not a Pidgey. It’s a Spearow.”
Too late. He already tossed the acorn— and with perfect precision. Zack tasted the sweet, arrogant-flavored victory. Ah, yes; the sound of a seed bouncing off the empty head of a stupid Pokémon…
The moment of victory was short; so short that one may question if it existed at all. For, soon, the Spearow coldly glared at Zack. Those eyes did not say, “Ahaha, you got me,” but rather, “Ahaha, you’re toast.”
“Zachary,” warned Larry, “Spearows are aggressive!”
“It’s all good. A little bird like that couldn’t hurt.”
The bird soared straight up; then it shot down toward Zack. Zack thought that dodging the Spearow was fun and considered it more “training,” even naming the Spearow “Jack”— you know, after the captain. After a few dozen strikes, the Pokémon landed on a Cypress branch to rest.
Zack had become proud. He called up to the Spearow, “Hey, Jack, is that all you’ve got? Come on. What a joke!”
The Spearow summoned his energy and let out a piercing cry so loud that Zack had to shield his ears. A little frightened now, he said, “Whoa, d-don’t caw your little air sacs out.”
Larry said, “Th-that’s not good…”
Repeating caws answered as the nearest Spearows took flight. The flapping wings created a whirlwind that whipped up the dry dirt. Zack could only see the birds’ figures, shaded by the trees, as they approached him. When the birds spotted Zack, their caws turned into war cries as they collected into formation.
Zack stared at the birds. This was the Spearow’s posse. This was the Spearows’ way of saying “Don’t mess wit’ da Flock.” He had to move. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do a darn thing as he stared at the dozens of Pokémon, all set on taking him out.
Larry said, “Run!”
Zack decided that he had given the birds enough of a head start. He turned around and ran like a deer. As Zack weaved through the trees, they seemed to be closer than they were before. Instead of wading through the brush, he hopped right over it. He no longer focused on where he was going; he was scared out of his mind—but at least he was ahead.
Heck, maybe this could be considered more training, and it would even get him to Viridian City before sundown— except, he had left his backpack against that tree. Ah, well. He had his wallet; he’d just buy all his stuff again.
Zack began to gain a lead. At this rate, he would eventually lose them. Thank-you, Coach Billy! Baseball and track were finally about to pay off. And it would have, too, if he had been paying attention.
He found himself into an open area, circled by tall, wide oak trees. There was enough room for him to escape through the trees— but not through the Spearows. In each tree stood at least ten Spearows, all staring at him. Zack stopped, right in the middle of the circle. The Spearows that had been chasing him landed in the trees behind him. Was this a trap? Forty—fifty—no, sixty… Close to one hundred Spearows stared at Zack, sadistically letting him try to plan a way out. There was no way out. He was completely surrounded.
Another larger bird perched directly in front of him. Zack didn’t take his eyes off it as he asked, “What’s that?”
“Th-that’s a Fearow, the evolution of Spearow.”
“Then it must be the honcho,” said Zack, still not taking his eyes off the Fearow. He stuck his swollen hand in his pocket, slowly bringing Larry out.
“Oh, Zachary Storm! This is terrible… What are you going to do?”
“What’s the best way to avoid a Spearow’s attack?”
“They say that you should drop to the ground and protect your head— oh, wait, that’s lightning.”
The Fearow cawed. Chanting, the Spearows took those orders, hovering above their perches.
“Get out of here, Larry,” ordered Zack.
The Fearow cawed again; the Spearows dove toward Zack. He tossed Larry beyond the trees, toward safety, as he fell to his knees. He curled his head toward his stomach, shielding his neck with his arms.
The Spearows took turns diving at Zack, drilling their rock-hard beaks into his back; digging their knife-like claws into his arms. Lightning safety precautions worked surprisingly well for Spearow attacks, for it only left his back and arms exposed. Still, they wouldn’t stop. These Spearows had a certain hate for humans: a passionate hate, fueled by years of careless humans mistreating them—hurting them— killing them; fueled by years of humans polluting the lakes, the ocean, the air… their home. Maybe Zack could talk to them…
Through his pain, and through the cawing and flapping, Zack shouted, “Hey, Spearows! I’m sorry… I’m not a bad person. I just got cocky!”
Nothing. The Spearows were like robots, programmed to destroy. These Pokémon were determined to inflict as much pain on Zack as the humans had inflicted on them. He then decided that he would never let himself get cocky again.
Maybe Zack could try a well-timed dash. He’d have to stay close to the ground, and with all the sores, he wasn’t sure how fast he could run. He peeked ahead and watched the pattern of the Spearow’s attacks…
There was a second-long period of leniency, when the Spearows gathered themselves. He waited for this second, and…
The Fearow landed in front of Zack, leering at him with black, angry eyes. Zack whispered, “Please stop… I’m not like other humans.”
The Fearow did nothing for several seconds, before cawing and flying into the air. Was it listening to him? It circled around, out of Zack’s view. Then, like a bullet, it shot at Zack’s side, knocking him over. Now Zack’s chest and face were exposed to the Spearows— aha, and then the real pain began.
Crying an embarrassing scream, Zack flailed his arms as he tried to swat the Spearows. How could those soft feathers be armed with such hard, sharp beaks and talons? He tried to get up and run, but the weight of the birds knocked him back down. The best he could do was roll onto his stomach.
Soon, he could barely move; he felt weak, dizzy, and faint. His clothes were ripped to shreds and drenched with the blood. He began having flashbacks of irrelevant times— things that he hadn’t thought about in years— as long as they were of a happier time.
Then Zack felt something crawl into his hand. Rolling his head over, he saw that it was Larry.
With a triumphant ring, Larry said, “Leave no man behind.”
“You idiot,” whispered Zack. “They’re going to destroy you, too.”
Surely enough, a Spearow grabbed Larry out of Zack’s hand, with full intentions of tearing him into pieces.
Larry played the cry of a Spearow— Pokédexes are equipped with such information, you know. This startled the Spearow, which was lead to believe that it had accidentally grabbed a strange-looking brother. It dropped Larry, who crawled back into Zack’s hand.
“I don’t think an entire flock would be tricked by that,” said Larry. “They would just get angrier with you. I’m sorry, Zachary Storm…”
“C-call me Zack.”
“All right, Zack.”
The sun had set, and all he could see were the Spearow’s eyes, glittering like the stars. Zack had accepted that death was a possibility. He couldn’t believe that he was about to die on his first day. They were right. Susan… That Yankee kid… They were all right. He was a loser. He shouldn’t have gone, dang it! What the heck was he thinking?
He tried one last time. In a soft, pathetic voice, he cried, “Oh, stop! Please, stop! It hurts! I’m sorry! I don’t want to die! Oh, please, I don’t want to die…”
Nothing. That was it. He had nothing left. He rolled on his back and let the Spearows do whatever they wanted. He was finished.
The beaks stabbed his stomach, his chest, his face. Zack rolled his head again towards Larry. He wanted his last image to be something other than murderous bird. The pain, the blood loss, the shock. Zack’s vision stared to fade.
His mother… Zack was all his mother had. How… how would she live without him? He was her life. And she had bid him farewell just that afternoon. What if… What if he was never found? What if the birds left noth—… What if his mother waited for him to return for… forever? Just like his father… A tear mopped up blood as it rolled down his face.
Larry decided that it was his mission to comfort Zack. He said, “It’s okay, Zack. It’s not your fault. Your mom will be fine; nobody will be mad at you... And death isn’t even that bad. You’re almost past the hardest part!”
Zack forced a smile. Larry was a unique Pokédex. How did he know what he was thinking; what he was feeling? How could a machine actually comfort him? More intriguing, why? Larry was capable of feeling emotion, and maybe even pain. Zack wished he could learn more about Larry, but he was… fading…
All the Spearows fainted at once. Larry must have said the magic word.
Ahead of Zack stood a being, about six feet tall. Zack’s vision was too blurry to make much out; he could only see that it was a dark, human-shaped biped. Its white eyes glowed in the moonlight. Was it another trainer? Or was it a Pokémon? Did it make all the Spearows faint?
The being slowly walked up to him. Zack flipped Larry open, hoping he could tell what it was; but, his screen was black…
Even when the “thing” was right over him, Zack couldn’t make out its face. It reached down, touching Zack’s forehead with its index and middle fingers.
Zack blacked out.
Last edited by Drew_A_Blank; 25th May 2009 at 08:37 PM.
24th May 2009, 04:21 PM #13
Re: Chasing Cool
Good story. A few notes for the second chapter: Cyprus (as you've spelled it) is an island. The tree is spelled Cypress. And how on earth can Zack tell Larry to get out of here when Larry is a handheld Pokedex with no legs?
Anyhow, your story has good dialogue and humor and is pretty well written. Like others have said, utilize Spellcheck but remember it's not totally perfect. When writing dialogue, feel free to have sentence fragments; that's how people talk, anyway.
24th May 2009, 06:38 PM #14
Re: Chasing Cool
Thanks for the criticism! Ohh, Cyprus is a DIFFERENT tree. I meant the "bald" one, so I'll fix that. Thanks!
Something you might have missed, Barb...
“Yes. Dr. Sivirichi equipped me with wheels. How else was I supposed to protect you?”
Sorry if I didn't make that clear!
Last edited by Drew_A_Blank; 25th May 2009 at 09:38 AM.
25th May 2009, 01:39 PM #15
Re: Chasing Cool
And that's what I get for speed reading. Carry on.