So, this is my attempt at a fairly unoriginal idea. It’s pretty lacking in plot. It’s my first serious try at using the second person. And it's my first multi-chapter story. So please, give as much constructive criticism as possible!
Chapter 1: Mother
TO BE A LEGEND
Chapter 1: Mother
Days long past flash through your mind, days of nearly forgotten youth and innocence. Days when it was but you and your kind.
There is a kind of simplicity and innocence in your memories: not nearly so many creatures, and not nearly so many of the strange being that will name itself ‘man.’ You are the first, the root of all. You are the first great breath of life in this vast, beautiful world. But of course, you think with a touch of melancholy, that you thought nothing of it back then.
Every day is bright and wonderful; every day, you play and frolic, not a worry in your mind. But while the actions are a carefree routine, the scenery is never the same. Every one of your kind is a friend: the coat a slightly darker shade of pink, perhaps, fur a bit shorter and coarser, maybe, and tail just a tad longer than yours, but the slight presence in your mind is always open and cheerfully inquisitive. And so you soar through the air, ground slipping away as your stomach flutters giddily. The ever-distant horizon always beckons you forward, as the wind blows around your sleek, agile body, tickling the skin under your warm far.
Time has no meaning for you; after all, why worry, when every day is more beautiful than the last? But, slowly, carefree wanderlust disappears, as the world begins to change. Before, every day brought a new clan of your kind in sight; the sky was always thick with the shrill chirps and mental shouts of your fellow wanderers. But some days, as you float lazily among the lowest-lying clouds, you sense nothing at all.
And on those rare occasions when you do descend from on high, feeling the panicky, fledgling mental presence of another, you realize that your kind is disappearing. With more than a hint of horror and panic, you speed through the heavens, lands passing ignored far below your paws. And in your haste, you fail to see how even the land itself is changing: coastlines eroding, plunging familiar beaches under the waves, cherished fields of flowers and soft wild grasses growing over with forests, old haunts and nests abandoned by their residents.
And when you finally reach the small, safe island that is your home, your heart breaks, bottom falling out, as sharp ash burns your nostrils and throat, as hot, smoky winds inflame your eyes. Tears prick unbidden, as the volcano spews doom over your home, leaving a wasteland where you made your first steps, where your mother first nourished you, cradling your body against her soft warmth, where you first felt the touch of a beloved friend’s mind against your own.
And as you weep, blindly drawing closer to the devastation, you find yourself startled by the oddest creature. It’s not of your kind, that’s certain enough; its red skin is hairless, paws tipped with prominent claws, a small flame burning brightly on the tip of its tail. But something in its eyes is familiar, as it approaches you, sniffing cautiously. And as it tilts head in concern, it speaks--truly speaks, not the playful mental words you shared with your kind--for the first time. “Char?”
Head and heart both swimming, struggling to stay afloat in the maelstrom that is your mindscape, you reassure it, with both familiar thought speak and the simple chirps of your voice. And as it wanders back into the fiery landscape, curiosity sated, you float for a moment, trying to make sense of it all. And with a burst of bright, glorious realization, you blast off into the sky, shelving your grief and leaving your home for the last time.
Now you fly barely above the earth, toes skimming the tall grass, back warmed by the bright and constant sun. The broad horizons of the wanderer are too passé, when the lands just outside your home have changed beyond all imagining. And now, flitting through an unfamiliar forest--dimly remembering when this entire area was but flat grassland--all sorts of unfamiliar calls, chirps, and roars wash over your ears. Here, a strange, purple creature with large ears scurries from shadow to shadow, always hunting for sustenance. There, another creatures flies--flies, not with its mind but with odd appendages, covered with something other than fur--past your head, chirping and screeching with dozens of its own kind.
Its own kind, you realize, numb with amazement and shock. It is no longer just you and your own. Now, where you romped and explored as a child, three--no, four--no, five--countless species make their own homes. Indignation surges through your system: what right do they have in this place? How dare they claim your childhood sanctuary as their own! But in the midst of your outrage, a bright yellow creature, with long narrow ears and the most ridiculous tail, tumbles head over heels into you, squeaking in pain and surprise.
As you hiss in annoyance, knocking the yellow ball of fluff off you, another of the yellow creatures comes along--larger than the first, you notice. The larger one chirps shrilly at the smaller: “Pika, pikachu!” Anger melts away and amusement rises in its place, as you recognize the universal language of parental scolding.
As the mother glares at her miscreant child, the small yellow creature sheepishly approaches you. And just like the odd red lizard in the fiery landscape of your home, this creature’s eyes shine with something familiar.
The child makes its hasty apology before scurrying back at its mother’s scolding, but you scarcely hear it. Your outrage disappears entirely, and so does your grief. And despite the changed appearance, the changed mental presence, and even the changed behavior, the spark of your kind persists in these new, strange creatures.
A shaky but deep contentment settles into your bones. You rise through the trees, branches and leaves whipping gently around you with the wind, as you take to the skies once more.
An idle thought drifts through your mind, that there must be more of your kind still around. But you dismiss it immediately, as a shred of wanderlust once again takes root in your heart. You’ve seen all this world has to offer once, journeying through untold continents and regions. You’ve met countless dozens of your kind, hundreds of subtly different clans, but still familiar. And now, after centuries of aimless wandering, the world has changed right under your notice.
Perhaps you will never recover from the loss of your home, your kind, and your very world. But that’s okay. You’ve yet to meet more than a bare handful of these exciting new creatures, so radically different from yourself. Just like your youth, untold opportunities wait just over the horizon. And whenever you feel despair in your solitude, there’s something to keep in mind: your kind isn’t gone. You just need to look a bit closer, see the truth in the eyes of these strange creatures.
For you are Mew, mother of all Pokémon. And every single creature in the world is your family.