My second shot at a pokemon Fic. Comments and pointers are always welcome. I especially like the really harsh one's :P
Rifts In Time
Chapter 1: The Journey
“Not today.” Michael whispered. “Not today.”
Despite the young teen’s plea, the arguing began. Screaming soon followed at a glass shattering volume.
“All you ever do is moan about this or that!” A masculine voice roared.
“Well maybe if you made more money, we wouldn’t have this problem!” Another retorted.
“Money, Money, Money.” Michael thought quietly. “That’s all they ever think about.”
Curled over in a fetal position, in an almost pitch black room, a young boy laid on a bed. On the verge of tears, the boy used another pillow to muffle the continually rising voice’s of his so called “parents”. The quarrels had started but a meir year ago, when his father had lost his job at the glass factory. Michael was furious with himself for getting comfortable with the perfect family idea. That kind of family only existed in fairy tales, and if some vague form of that ideal made its way here; well, that was just considered weird, almost creepy.
“Nothing lasts forever.” The emerald eyed boy thought bitterly.
At the moment that his train of thought ended, Michael’s bedroom door burst open. The thin oak door swung backwards and connected with the back wall harshly, causing a crack that rang out through the blackened room. His father appeared in the doorway and quickly strode over to his son, kicking over stacks of baseball cards and miniature car models.
“Go to school.” His father commanded.
“School doesn’t start for another hour.” Michael replied meekly.
“Walk to school then.” The man said impatiently.
“Alright.” The boy replied.
For a moment, the two males stared at each other, each lost in the other’s startling green eyes. His father’s face had grown weathered, and white. Freckles, dull brown in color, littered the man’s face, exactly like that of Michael. His pale, thin figure was nothing like that of his father however. Tall shoulders stood proud upon a muscled chest, one that any body builder would be pleased to have.
“Just go to school.” His father sighed, turning from his son and walking through the open door.
“Sure.” Michael muttered, slowly rising from his bed. Flicking on the small lamp on his bedside table, Michael began to dress. He wasn’t a bad looking young man, not in the least, just average. Average Michael. Light brown hair freely flowed from an oddly round head. A nice face was almost hidden by the freckles and hair that seemed to intertwine into a sea of brown.
“I hate my nose.” Michael whispered as he tried in vain to fix his messy hair. “Whatever.”
Newly dressed in a fresh pair of blue jeans and his favorite “Harley Davidson” black T-shirt, Michael slung his red pack over his shoulder, and straightened his bed. Satisfied that a verbal beating about how messy his room was, was going to follow his return from school, Michael left his square box of a room. Even though it was nearly eight in the morning, the rest of the house was as black as his sleeping quarters. The curtains were pulled tightly across the low windows, casting the ugly furniture into shadow.
“I hate this house.” Michael thought as he crossed the living room and quickly and walked towards the front door. Before he stepped outside, the young teen spied his mother sitting at the kitchen table, across the room. She was tapping her right foot furiously on the linoleum floor as she smoked one of her disgusting cigarettes. Michael rolled his eyes and opened the front door that led to partial quiet.
“Great.” He thought, closing the door behind him.
Rain was lightly falling upon the asphalt of the neighborhood streets, making a delightful tap every time a droplet exploded against the ground. The sky was dark and grey, rumbling occasionally like a hungry stomach. The young teen stepped off the porch and started down the driveway. Before he hit the sidewalk, Michael looked back at the medium sized brick house and its small yellow door.
“Wouldn’t be nice...” Michael started, turning away and starting down the sidewalk.
The neighborhood he lived on was simple enough; carefully manicured lawns and flower beds were a sign of dominance and respect here. Tall oaks shot out of the ground every twenty feet or so, casting the already dark ground into a deeper black. The houses were almost all the same design, each consisting of a brick frame, a single car garage, and the same boring brown roof. Boring, boring, boring. That was his life. Average Michael and his boring life.
“Morning Michael.” A voice called. It was Mrs. Gretchan. Turning his head, Michael said hello in return, as he always did. Not taking notice that the ninety year old woman was watering her grass, even though droplets of water were still freely falling from the sky. It sort of surprised Michael that it was raining at all. It was almost summer in the small town of Perry, Georgia; and dark skies and showers were few and far between.
“It’s alright.” Michael thought, removing a stick of gum from his pack. “Rain is ok.”
The young teen continued to walk down the endless cement squares, kind of blankly, not really thinking, or observing his surrounding’s. Just walking and walking. Twenty minutes later, the young teen arrived on the school grounds of his high school. A small maze of woods were almost attached to the side of the immense building; the green color of its trees almost glowing against the grey sky. As Michael neared the structure of brick and cement that was his school, he noticed that not a single car was parked in the teacher’s parking lot, nor the student’s.
“Oh great, now I have to wait for another half hour in the rain.” Michael said cynically. Michael sighed loudly and started walking towards the small overhang near the entrance to the school, where he might find shelter from the falling water. But as he neared the entrance, a surge of cold wind suddenly struck the right side of his face, causing him to wince and turn his head to the left. “Little chilly out here.” He commented, opening his eyes. “What’s that?” A sort of opening in the woods had appeared only a couple yards to the left of where the teen was walking. It was so small that Michael had to blink to make sure he was seeing correctly. Curious, Michael slowly trudged through small mud puddles, and over to the opening. The woods were like a solid wall of foliage, making it hard for anyone to pass through. The opening was almost as tall as Michael, seeming to have been built just for him. The teen lowered his head and squinted, the wind blowing harder against the back of his head. It was almost like a tunnel. Damp soil made an almost direct line straight into the woods, as if someone had made it intentionally.
“Weird.” Michael commented. The path didn’t look like it had an end, or at least one that Michael could see through the darkness. The young teen weighed his options, he could go to the school and wait for it to start, or he could go into the woods and follow the path like an idiot. “What the hell?” He smiled, taking a step into the tunnel like opening. “I’ll just follow it for a second.” Taking a somewhat deep breath, Michael started walking. Unknown to the curious teen, the wind began to pick up, rain started to fall harder, and black clouds started to form over the woods that the boy was walking through. Michael could only see behind him and in front; the woods were to thickly covered by trees to make out the left and right.
“Why am I walking through dimly lit woods?” Michael asked himself, continuing to walk further. He had convinced himself that he was just taking a leisurely stroll through the woods while he waited for school to start but, now it had become almost like a quest to see where this small dirt path would take him. Suddenly, a great boom of thunder rang out through the woods. Michael swung his head upward, but couldn’t see anything through the thick canopy of trees. But he could hear the rain picking up. “A little bit further would be okay.” He muttered, continuing to walk forward. “That’s great Michael, you’re talking to yourself.” Seriously doubting wether he should take this any further or not, Michael still trudged forward. As he did, the young teen began to notice that the path and the trees around him were starting to grow thin and wider. He looked over his shoulder, and was only able to see a slightly gray area where he had first entered.
“I didn’t know it was this deep.” Michael muttered. As he whispered, a light appeared down the path. It was almost like the grey at the other end. Michael picked up his pace, his eyes glowing with excitement. But when he got to what he thought was the end, his mouth dropped in disappointment. The end of the trail was a clearing of sorts. It was like a beam had cut out the trees and grass from above, leaving a circular area of nothingness. Michael guessed that the minuscule clearing was about the size of his bedroom, if not smaller. Rain cascaded from the sky and into the clearing, making the dirt meadow into one giant mud puddle.
“Why would someone make a path that leads to a dead end of dirt?” The boy wondered, as he gazed at the rumbling sky. The rain started to come down harder as the sky lit up in a blaze of white lightning. “Great, I’m out in the middle of the woods in a lightning storm and I’m talking to myself.” The boy sighed. Taking one last look at the dirt circle, the young teen turned away and started walking back towards his school, where teacher’s had already begun to arrive. It was at that exact moment that a bolt of lightning decided to race down from the heavens and strike the small dirt clearing. The sound that the beam of concentrated electricity made as it touched the ground nearly deafened Michael. As the small forest exploded with white light, the young teen flung himself to the right and into the thick foliage. Adrenaline steadily flowed through the boy’s body as he struggled to try and make himself invisible. As if a switch was thrown, the light that was streaming through the woods suddenly vanished. Except for the rumbling of the clouds and the steady flow of rain, silence steadily roared through the woods. It was safe to say that Michael was in complete shock. The young teen was shaking furiously, trying in vain to retrieve a coherent thought. Despite a strong urge to stay very still and quiet, Michael lifted his head and slowly scanned the ground.
“What are the odds?” The teen whispered.
Finally gaining use of his arms, Michael rose to his feet, and tried to stop shaking. Re-adjusting his back-pack, the young teen turned back towards the small clearing, and gasped. A sort of light or energy was steadily pulsing from the previous puddle of water and soil. Bright white in color, the liquid seemed to be alive. The ground and trees around the clearing shimmered and glowed as the energy moved . The pool of white liquid was traveling around itself in a clock-wise motion, almost hypnotically.
“The hell?” Michael whispered. Wether it was natural human curiosity or plain stupidity, the teen slowly stepped forward and into the pouring rain. It was like nothing the boy had ever seen. It seemed like the lightning had turned to liquid when it struck the ground. Being relentlessly pounded by the ever strengthening rain, Michael bent down and stared at the mass of glowing energy. The young teen was completely amazed if not shocked by what had just happened. This was the kind of stuff you heard on the news; this wasn’t something that happened to people like Michael. Yet again, Michael weighed his options. He could run to the school and tell someone, or he could be “Michael” and do something very idiotic. Shivering terribly, Michael chose to be himself.
“In the name of science.” He smiled, reaching out with his right hand. With one long index finger, the young teen tentatively touched the pulsing liquid. The result of his curiosity was almost instantaneous. Despite the surging wind and falling rain, a feeling of warmth raced up the boy’s fingers, that quickly worked its way up his arm. It was almost undescribable. The warmth reached his shoulder and quickly spread to his torso as Michael smiled. The feeling, or whatever it was found its way to the young teen’s face in no time. Caught up in the moment, Michael lowered his hand further, so it was completely underneath the pool. Not knowing that this action may have been the biggest mistake, or blessing of his life.
“How is this possible?” Michael asked, pulling his hand from the rotating liquid. But, much to his surprise, the young teen found that this movement was not possible. His hand stayed under. Confused, the young teen jerked his arm upward in an almost spastic motion. But this reflex did the exact opposite, and pulled his arm towards the pool. The liquid was up to Michael’s elbow now, and seemed to be pulling him deeper, almost like quicksand. Afraid of being completely dragged in, the boy sank to his stomach; his face situated a mere foot from the surface of the liquid.
“Calm down.” Michael thought nervously. Despite his command, the boy’s pulse quickened, and adrenaline started to shoot through his veins. “How is my arm going under? It’s solid ground.” Remembering a thing about quicksand from the “Discovery Channel” Michael stopped moving his arm and remained very still. That didn’t work either, as the liquid continued to pull him in. Satisfied that the “lay very still” plan wasn’t going to work, the teen went back to struggling.
“HELP!” Michael screamed, as the liquid rose to his shoulder. But, his cries went unheard as the wind continued to howl. Michael used his lower body to swing around, so he was now lying parallel to the pool. Using his one free hand, the boy grabbed a thin tree root that lay nearby, hoping that it would give him the leverage he needed. Michael pulled hard with his left arm, his entire body covered in mud. A loud groan was issued from the young teen’s mouth, as he pulled, all of his mind concentrating on being free. Maybe, just maybe, if the root wasn’t soaked with water and mud, the young teen would have made it. But, the root was, and Michael’s hand slid from the wet piece of wood. The force of the release pushed the teen sideways, and into the liquid. His arms flailed, he screamed, he kicked, but it was no use, the liquid had turned to a jell-0 like consistency. A force that the struggling teen could not see wrapped around his ankles and yanked. With one last scream for help, Michael was pulled under the surface.
Silence was king in this pool of energy, not a single sound was able to penetrate, not even the worried cries of the young teen. Oxygen was also unable to penetrate the abyss of startling white light. Michael soon realized this as he frantically gasped for air. Not a single thought crossed the teen’s mind as he struggled, his animal instinct solely focused on getting air. But alas, the boy was not a fish, and therefor could not breathe, which resulted in him slipping into unconsciousness. As the boy stopped struggling, the top of the pool stopped moving, and suddenly spun in the opposite direction, becoming a blur of light. Michael followed this motion, spiraling downward at an alarming speed. The top of the pool stopped again, and simply vanished, leaving only the howling wind and a pool of mud.
Michael still drifted downward however, the white light surrounding him slowly drifting into a violent shade of black. Suddenly, the teen shot downward, as if being driven by rocket fuel. Color’s exploded all around the young teen, casting his body into spasms. Shadows and figures blew past the jerking teen, sinking into nothingness as they passed. The tunnel of light in which the boy was traveling suddenly grew dark and black as Michael began to slow. It seemed as if the boy had reached the bottom of the hole or tunnel because the teen was now simply floating in darkness. Michael drifted down and lay upon the bottom, occasionally twitching. The darkness surrounding the boy softened as the floor in which he was laying glowed white. The creamy glow surged outward, enveloping the boy and the area with light.
Thunder boomed, lightning flashed, rain poured, and a sixteen year old boy appeared in the almost exact middle of a small field. Lying on his stomach, the teen lifted his head and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the ground in front of him. Michael twitched again and passed out.
Through the darkness and the pouring rain, several shadows formed a circle around the teen, unmoving and still. A larger shadow pushed forward, forcing the other’s to break the ring. Thickly muscled arms lifted the unconscious human into the air. A voice, raspy and cold, cut through the howling wind, and screamed with a volume that could have been heard from miles away.
“PERT!” The voice roared. “SWAMPERT!”