A stroll down that fateful lane
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April 26th, 2010 (8:16 PM).
Man of Infinite Jest
From whose bourn No traveller returns,
Ive taken a very long haitus away from writing pokemon fanfiction, and participating in roleplays. Mostly due to personal issues with my writing and how my style felt. After a few years away from this place I began to play my ancient Ruby save on my DS, and felt a story reminisce. The Pokemon series to me, was all about the potential of characters you could have in you party. That was something I wanted to shed light on here, that feeling you have about old friends.
Anyway it's been a long while since Ive written anything besides a comedy fic or a crappy oneshot.
A stroll down that fateful lane
Upon the frozen waste of Mount Silver, stood a shack.
It wasn't at all very well constructed. Crudely nailed slabs of wood creating what appeared to be walls. The roof, caved in long ago; only recently repaired by the current inhabitant of it's gaping maw. The figure lay on the floor of the shack. Covered in a thin layer of frost and sinew. Her strong, cheaply bought winter clothing now fused to her flesh. The boots were so well broken in, they still looked brand new.
She lay sprawled across the ground, on her side in a cuddled circular shape. The stranger in the corridor felt his eyebrow raise at the image before him. A long wound of frost bite appeared across her cheek. A hurricane in a sea of pale flesh. The stranger mused to himself, noticing her amber eyes looked rather pleasing to him. He knelt and slowly checked her pockets.
Unfortunately for the thief, both of her snow pant pockets were empty. A cold sigh of regret rustled from his bearded mouth. He moved the corpse on to her back without great difficulty. The body was only recently deceased and thus, was not struck with impenetrable rigor mortis. Her dark green jacket was puffed up, and what appeared to be a slip of paper poked out of it's pocket. Curious, the stranger reached for the paper and opened it. What appeared to be a handwritten letter on old worn paper rested in his hand.
Things are good for once... for the most part. As I wrote to you earlier, Nova your Scyther died in October. We only proceeded with the burial recently. While you specifically stated in your past letter that you wished to be present, we were unable to comply with your request.
The pastor was leaving to Hoenn for the Winter and as such, we would be unable to proceed with an official burial under Johto law until Spring. If we waited for that long we wouldn't be able to due to the cor... your friend's decay. I apologize for this all.
Things are good. Snow is only now blanketing the Earth, and slowly the rest of the family is moving on from the loss of our dear friend. Nova was as dear to us as she was to you. Be that as it may, I cannot imagine the amount of grief you feel.
The stranger finished reading the letter, and placed it back into the girl's pocket slowly. The corpse of this... Alice, was only recently deceased. He suspected she died only a few weeks, nay a few days earlier. The Stranger checked the rest of her pockets, but only found a old Pokedex, already very obsolete to his standards. The rest was lint and a broken pen. The Stranger got up and looked around some more. The prospect of something of value being in the shack was very slim at the moment.
He walked back toward the door, only pausing after seeing something in the corner of his eye. A small fixture of light rebounded off a hint of silver on the ground. Puzzled, he walked closer and noticed what appeared to be a journal, with a round heart shaped lock on the side. The lock was frozen, and the sands of time had already done more damage to the book itself then anything human hands could do. The Stranger picked the book up attempted to open it. The first few times, unsuccessful, however after a few minutes of jabbing at the lock the book broke open and fell to the ground. A barely recognizable passage lay before him.
Days are passing by slower now. I left Sinnoh by ship and returned on the 4 AM train back to Goldenrod city. By the time we got there it was 7 AM, yet it felt like an eternity.
Nova got sick again. Her lungs are getting rather old now, and she is finding it hard to breath. I recalled when we entered some forests I had to administer 4 potions before she could stay still without coughing. Even then this was temporary, as less then 4 hours later it would resume.
Though it pains me to say it, I have to return Nova home.... she is my friend. No, more then that... my partner. Nova is my other half, the only reason I still draw breath. Until the day I die, I will always protect my Novie. She will be happier back in Cherrygrove. Where she had so much fun as a young scyther hacking weeds apart and cutting a Lily from the field and presenting it to me...
A tear drop dabbed the ink beside the words making it illegible to the Stranger.
I don't know how I will go on without Nova by my side. But, I know she would want me to continue my journey and try to move on.
Puzzled, the Stranger reached down to grab the book and only found himself barely able to dodge an oncoming slab of wood at his head. A loud gushing wind bellowed all around the shack. Bringing up snow into a towering tornado all around him. To loud to hear the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and yet not loud enough to hear his pessimistic panicky mind echo throughout his head. He could barely see the journal flip to the last page.
Marcus sent me a letter a month or so back, telling me that Nova had suffocated in her sleep. I am finding it hard to even swallow food in the morning. The pain... the anguish. The fact I cannot wake up in the morning to see her slashing at trees for no reason at all. I just... I can't stand living in it. I am leaving to the North, maybe then if I climb the tallest peak, the entry point into the heavens. Maybe then, I'll see her...
That was all the Stranger could see before the book flew up into the gust of wind. He turned his head all around but before he knew it.
There was nothing. He was surrounded by nothing but snow on a frosted peak. The shack, the corpse and diary. All taken away by the tornado of snow. He had trouble getting his bearings back when he treked back down the mountain toward Blackwater. He did not give a conclusion to the Tornado and didn't feel giving one would be all that necessary. He only knew that the world had achieved a new kind of peace.
Joined Dec 2006
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