- 77
- Posts
- 13
- Years
- Seen May 12, 2021
Hello Pokecommunity! If you do not know who I am, skip the next couple of
lines. If you do know who I am, I'm sorry for completely ignoring my previous
story. To be honest, I lost all interest in that story a long, long time ago. So,
I abandoned it. Yet, here I am now with a new story! Things to say about this story: Rated PG-13 or T or whatever for possible dark situations and gruesome descriptions. This is an idea I had quite a while ago which I am finally now putting in to writing. I hope you enjoy it!
Slowly circling downward above her chosen landing spot, Oma made her descent. She began hopping around the area where she had landed. To one who had not been there before, this place would seem like nothing more than a rocky badlands. As Oma turned, she saw homes and families. Friends. She took off again, not caring about the storm rolling in. She suddenly flew with ferocious intensity, possessed by an unknown goal. Her eyes began to glisten.
When she finally landed again, she found herself in the midst of a collection of stone statues. The detail was incredible, though the subject matter was grotesque. The majority of the faces of the statues were contorted in fear and pain, an ugly grimace that turned what would have been simple, possibly pretty features into an unrecognizably ugly mask. Yet who was Oma to question an artist?
She began hopping slowly amidst the throng of sculptures. She moved with purpose, looking for one in particular. As she made her way through the crowd, she saw the faces of the both the young and old, the tall and short, men and women. Nearly everywhere she looked, a contorted horror of a face stared back. The only places she found peaceful expressions were on the faces of the elderly. As she progressed, Oma felt a darkness growing in her stomach. Suddenly, she stopped. She turned and faced the statue of a teenage boy, arms outstretched. He appeared altogether normal. The one factor distinguishing him from the other statues was that his face was not a grimace. A despondent smile looked into Oma's eyes. She ruffled her feathers. The darkness in her stomach grew.
The sound of rock scraping across rock made Oma turn. She barely was able to hold back the Dark Pulse she had been about to release before she saw what her target would have been. A tiny Pidgey had hopped up to a statue several yards away from where Oma stood. Oma shook out her wings and ruffled her feathers again. The darkness in her stomach was back. She turned back to face the smiling boy. Her stomach tightened. She turned toward the sky and screeched a Perish Song. The Pidgey looked at Oma, then turned to the sky and screeched as well. Overcome by a sudden sadness, Oma took to the sky and flew away.
After several hundred yards, Oma finally saw the grove of trees that was her destination. The sudden plant life showed a drastic difference to the rocky wasteland Oma left behind her. The change was sudden, as if Oma had passed a line between life and death. She found a sturdy oak and alighted on a branch to wait out the storm. Suddenly, memories leapt unbidden to the front of her mind. She shrieked again as her eyes began to water.
lines. If you do know who I am, I'm sorry for completely ignoring my previous
story. To be honest, I lost all interest in that story a long, long time ago. So,
I abandoned it. Yet, here I am now with a new story! Things to say about this story: Rated PG-13 or T or whatever for possible dark situations and gruesome descriptions. This is an idea I had quite a while ago which I am finally now putting in to writing. I hope you enjoy it!
Preface
A gust of wind blew across the rocky crag, sending up small dust clouds and moving some pebbles. The sky was quickly changing from gloomy and overcast to angry and stormy. Oma looked around, searching for a place to land. She might have only been a Murkrow, but she knew enough to not get caught in a storm. That hat-shaped mound of feathers on her head held more than just empty space inside it.Slowly circling downward above her chosen landing spot, Oma made her descent. She began hopping around the area where she had landed. To one who had not been there before, this place would seem like nothing more than a rocky badlands. As Oma turned, she saw homes and families. Friends. She took off again, not caring about the storm rolling in. She suddenly flew with ferocious intensity, possessed by an unknown goal. Her eyes began to glisten.
When she finally landed again, she found herself in the midst of a collection of stone statues. The detail was incredible, though the subject matter was grotesque. The majority of the faces of the statues were contorted in fear and pain, an ugly grimace that turned what would have been simple, possibly pretty features into an unrecognizably ugly mask. Yet who was Oma to question an artist?
She began hopping slowly amidst the throng of sculptures. She moved with purpose, looking for one in particular. As she made her way through the crowd, she saw the faces of the both the young and old, the tall and short, men and women. Nearly everywhere she looked, a contorted horror of a face stared back. The only places she found peaceful expressions were on the faces of the elderly. As she progressed, Oma felt a darkness growing in her stomach. Suddenly, she stopped. She turned and faced the statue of a teenage boy, arms outstretched. He appeared altogether normal. The one factor distinguishing him from the other statues was that his face was not a grimace. A despondent smile looked into Oma's eyes. She ruffled her feathers. The darkness in her stomach grew.
The sound of rock scraping across rock made Oma turn. She barely was able to hold back the Dark Pulse she had been about to release before she saw what her target would have been. A tiny Pidgey had hopped up to a statue several yards away from where Oma stood. Oma shook out her wings and ruffled her feathers again. The darkness in her stomach was back. She turned back to face the smiling boy. Her stomach tightened. She turned toward the sky and screeched a Perish Song. The Pidgey looked at Oma, then turned to the sky and screeched as well. Overcome by a sudden sadness, Oma took to the sky and flew away.
After several hundred yards, Oma finally saw the grove of trees that was her destination. The sudden plant life showed a drastic difference to the rocky wasteland Oma left behind her. The change was sudden, as if Oma had passed a line between life and death. She found a sturdy oak and alighted on a branch to wait out the storm. Suddenly, memories leapt unbidden to the front of her mind. She shrieked again as her eyes began to water.
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