[Nonfiction] A Story Of Hope

Some of my friends wonder how I even joined such a craze like Pokemon. Was it the battling? The collecting? The formula of the games? Well, yes, but that's not quite what began my journey. Really, it all started a while back. I had just turned nine, and one of my gifts was a copy of Pokemon FireRed. At first, it really didn't appeal to me, so I shelved it and moved on with life. It was only a month or two when third grade truly went downhill for me, though. My mom and grammy had become wrecks, and they'd barely talk to me anymore. They left every evening, and would not return. It's then when I realized what had happened. Lung cancer. Good ole' Grandpa, such a jolly soul. Such a kind, loving heart. I was pulled from school one day to find him lifeless on his hospital bed. From that traumatizing moment, I just gave up. With everything. As I cried myself to sleep one night after, it called for me. There I spotted my cartridge of FireRed. I quickly asked my older brother to lend me his Gameboy, which he agreed, and I inserted the game. From that point on, I knew there was something to live for. Not because of the game itself, of course, but because my team had become my closest friends. I absolutely loved them. Oddly enough, the night of the funeral was the day I had beaten the Elite Four. Thank You, Deepa, I whispered to myself (and yes, that was his nickname). Thank You.


True Story.

I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to lock this.

This isn't really a story. Yes, it has some sort of plot and some characters, but there's no tension or emotion in this. I'm afraid this isn't enough to constitute its own thread. It's far too short.

LOCKED