Darkfish17
Darkfish17
- 5
- Posts
- 14
- Years
- Canada
- Seen Aug 4, 2010
A Wrong Turn
Chapter One: Bad Memories.
The sun overhead was shining lazily through the scattered clouds over a worn dusty path where a lone figure walked. He had nowhere in particular to be, nor was anyone perusing him, yet Milo Tern walked at a bisque pace. The puffy white clouds slid by causing the solitary figure to be plunged into shadow and then, within moments, have the cheery sunlight gaze down upon him once more.
Milo liked to walk with a purposeful stride. He believed that it made him look important, confidant, like he was a person who had somewhere to be, like he was a person that was made to be looked at. Not that he needed any help in that department, for Milo's masculine looks came in at a very young age, younger than any of his friends. By the age of nine Milo had lost his tummy that all little boys seem to have and soon his midsection had developed into firm muscle. By the time he was ten, Milo had started shaving and was getting more attention for his strong chin and broadening shoulders than anyone.
Milo was a nice guy, easy to get along with, and so that matched with his good looks, he soon became the most popular kid in school and a favorite to all the girls, even if most of them were too shy to even talk to him.
The dusty road wound its way slowly up a large hill covered in green grass and wildflowers, and when Milo reached the top he saw the short rooftops of Cherrygrove City, his home town, though he would never think to call it a city. Cherrygrove had no Gym or Contest Hall but it did house a small Mart, a few blocks of quaint, family houses, a school, and a Pokémon center. With hardly anything to do and not caring much to go to school on nice days like these, Milo, found himself going on these kinds of walks frequently.
Cherrygrove wasn't the kind of place anybody would visit, it was just a small town with a population of barely twelve thousand where you either went to settle down and get a home to raise your family, or to pass through without giving a second thought. In a way, Milo found that better than living in the big city, he liked to watch people come and go, usually traveling from New Bark Town on their way to Violet City, and listen to the adventures they were off to have.
Milo walked down the hill following the dirt path which led to a grove that separated the town from the wilderness. The shade under the dense foliage was pleasant on this warm Spring afternoon. As he passed through the small excerpt of forest, the young man noticed Rattata run off to hide from the intruder and Metapod withdraw themselves farther up amongst the brambles suspending themselves by shiny silver thread that seemed to reflect whatever light that had managed to penetrate the ceiling of green.
After passing through the serene darkness of the grove, it was a bit like a slap in the face when Milo stepped back out into the harsh sunlight and onto the sidewalk.
Growing up, Milo had always expressed great interest in becoming a Pokémon trainer, and so it was a shock to everyone when on his tenth birthday, Milo had returned from New Bark Town with no Pokémon companion, and saying that he had decided that he no longer wished to become a trainer. His father who was raising Milo by himself had to of course ask, why he had changed his mind, but, like when all of his friends and teachers asked the same thing, Milo refused to tell.
As he weaved his way through the streets of Cherrygrove, Milo thought about the events that occurred that day six years ago when he had gone to receive his first Pokémon, the events that only he would ever know about.
It had been a day not unlike this one, sunny, warm, he might have even gone as far as to say whimsical. He remembered that as he followed the main road towards the rising sun thinking to himself and deciding which new companion he should get. I should ask for Chickorita, dad said she was always mom's favorite. Or maybe Totodile. No! Cyndaquil! Hmm, I guess I'll just have to decide when I get there.
Milo had difficulty not running the whole way to New Bark Town out of excitement. Still, he couldn't be helped to not take a few shortcuts along the way, veering from the road time and again to speed over a hill or through a brush that the road simply wound around. He had been to New Bark Town several times before to visit his grandparents and was no stranger to the route, though he was still ever cautious of wild Pokémon.
He had been told time and again of the dangers of wild Pokémon if one is not protected. When Milo was just a baby, his mother and father had gone on a vacation up in the north and left him with his grandparents. Milo had been too young to remember the day when only his father returned, but as he grew up he had heard the story of what happened to the late Mrs. Tern through bits of conversations that seemed to stop short whenever he entered the room and overheard telephone calls.
It was a tragic tale, as Milo had pieced together, about a stampede of wild Donphan that had overtaken his parents jeep. They had both run for cover after one of the creatures had rammed into the vehicle turning it onto its side. His father had sought shelter behind a large boulder and thought that his wife had done the same, but looking back he saw her sprinting back towards the now terribly dented jeep, like she had forgotten something inside.
He had tried to shout to her to go and find cover but it was too late as upon reaching the car, another Donphan had collided with its undercarriage turning the jeep fully upside down and on top of Mrs. Tern. The mad stampede of hundreds of Pokémon continued, preventing Mr. Tern from reaching his wife, and also kicking up a large cloud of sand enveloping the scene.
Once the dust settled, Milo's parents jeep was just a mess of twisted metal fifty meters away and the body of his mother was never found. Nonetheless, this never stopped Mr. Tern from talking about his beloved late wife for hours on end whenever Milo asked, as long as it wasn't about how she had passed, and eventually he learned so much about his mother from the stories his dad would tell him, it felt to Milo as if he had known her for years.
However, horrific stories and their morals of caution can easily be forgotten in the heat of excitement of going to receive your first Pokémon, but it was not a wild Pokémon that had attacked Milo that summer's morning, it was something much more dangerous.
Ten year-old Milo approached a bend in the road that would take him around a large stretch of woods and then to New Bark Town, but, being this way countless times before, he knew that to simply go through the forest would cut his travel time in half. So just like countless times before, Milo stepped off of the path and into the dense foliage of gnarled roots, towering trunks, and green shrubbery.
He had always possessed an excellent sense of direction, even when he was young, so as Milo pushed his way through the brambles and boughs he did not loose sight of where he was or where he was going. When he had gone a ways into the brush and must have been about half way through, Milo found himself stumbling out of the trees and squinting in the sudden brightness of the sunlight.
When Milo's eyes finally adjusted he saw that he had come across a small oval-shaped clearing, barely fifty meters around. The sweet perfume he smelled hanging lazily in the air was coming from the multitude of tiny pink flowers that littered the ground.
Milo inhaled the sweet scent deeply and a wash of calm swept over him almost completely extinguishing the excitement that had been coursing through him all morning. He bent down and sat on the green-pink carpet to take a short rest and to watch the clouds roll by overhead before continuing on his trek to New Bark Town.
He sat in the clearing enjoying the rest he had allowed himself for only a short while before he noticed that there was something a bit off about the grove. Milo couldn't hear a single twitter or scurry of any Pokémon nearby. It was an eerie, heavy silence that caused Milo to rethink his choice of staying too long.
The young boy climbed to his feet about to continue into the foliage when, before Milo could tell what was happening, a shout came from the dark trees, "Tangela, now! Constrict"! From Milo's left came out of the woods a dozen deep turquoise vines that wrapped around his legs and arms binding them close to his body.
Loosing his balance, Milo fell heavily onto his front knocking the wind from his lungs. His vision blurred for a moment as he struggled to start breathing again, made only more difficult by the vines wrapped tightly around his chest.
Being a fairly well-liked kid, usually surrounded by his friends, this was the first time Milo had experienced any sort of bullying. This unpreparedness caused him more shock than Milo would have otherwise experienced.
When his vision cleared, Milo could only see the grass and flowers swaying lazily around his head until a sharp jab in his shoulder forced him onto his side. Now Milo could see that there were three figures standing over him, two men, Milo guessed in their early twenties, and the short blue-green Pokémon that was still constricting his limbs.
The man that had turned Milo over with his boot was dressed in an all-black jumpsuit that had a large orange "R" emblazoned on the chest, with knee-high gray boots and matching gray gloves and belt. He also wore a black cap over his full head of short, curly, blond hair. The second man who was dressed similarly but with straight, brown hair was bending over Milo who could feel the man frisking at his belt and rummaging through his pockets.
Coming up clean, the man with brown hair said to the other, "He's got nothin' on 'im".
"What do you mean nothing," said the one with blond hair who was sneering down at Milo just a moment ago but now was furrowing his brows in frustration.
He then got down on his hands and knees so that his face was inches from Milo's. "Listen kid," he said in a low but malicious tone, "where are your Pokémon?"
Being too scared to speak until now, Milo recovered his voice and shouted, "I don't have any!"
His face now contorted with rage, the blond man got back to his feet and delivered another kick to Milo's shoulder. "This was a waste of time, let's get out of here. And make sure the kid doesn't follow us."
"Right, Tangela, stun spore," the brown-haired man commanded before following his comrade back into the trees.
The vines binding Milo's arms and legs started to loosen but only when a shimmering gold dust came drifting down through the air. Wherever the powder settled on his skin he felt a tingling sensation followed by a stab of pain settling into numbness. Milo tried not to breathe in the spores, but when he could hold his breath no longer, unwillingly sucked in the damaging powder.
It felt as though his insides were ripping apart, but when Milo tried to writhe in excruciating pain he found that he couldn't move any part of his body. At that point he saw the dust stop spouting from the Tangela's crown and it too scurried off after its master leaving Milo all alone in the clearing.
Eventually the sweet perfume returned to the air when the dust settled and their special calming affect kept the young boy from panicking as he lay motionless on the ground for hours.
The sun arched through the sky and was on its downward decent when the feeling started to return to Milo's extremities, by which point he could hear the ruffling and chirping that indicated that the wild Pokémon had noticed that the threat was gone, and returned to the forest.
While he lay amongst the flowers and grass Milo had done a lot of thinking. He knew that the reason he had been attacked was because those men were after his Pokémon, and if he'd had any they would have taken them anyway. Maybe it was best that he not have Pokémon, not if they would only be taken by Team Rocket. Once Milo was strong enough to walk again, instead of completing his journey to New Bark Town he headed back home. He decided that it would be best to protect his Pokémon by not having any at all.
This first run in with danger caused Milo quite a bit of stress, and from which point on Milo had lost some of his confidence, not to say that he had become timid, but began more to enjoy the time he spent away from his friends to be contemplative and serene. Still though, the attack had left Milo feeling weak and vulnerable, but not wanting to show it, he decided to not speak of what had happened that day to anyone.
It was already twilight when Milo finally returned to Cherrygrove. Walking into town he was still scared and a little bit shaken, but he knew that he couldn't show that he was weak or people would start to think little of him. It was confidant Milo that had gotten all of his friends and status at school and it would be confidant Milo that kept them. And so he straightened his shoulders, put on a hard face, and walked the rest of the way home with the same purposeful stride he always had.
Now in the present day, sixteen-year-old Milo had turned down his street and was already walking up the drive to his home. Milo could tell his dad was inside by the way the front door was wide open and the only defense the house had from intruders was the rickety white screen door.
Milo pushed the screen open and stepped inside to be immediately greeted by a large four-legged creature that came lumbering towards him at top speed. The Pokémon rammed into Milo's legs, almost throwing him off balance, and immediately dropped to the floor and rolled onto its back.
"Hey girl, how's it goin'," Milo asked as he reached down to rub its deep purple-colored belly. His father's Granbull replied with an affectionate growl. "Dad, I'm home," Milo called out as he started towards the staircase beside the ajar kitchen door.
"Hey bud, how was school," came the reply from the kitchen.
"You know, same old. That Chris Hobbs is still on my case since the-"
"That was a trick question," his father cut him off stepping out of the kitchen with a mixing bowl and dishcloth in his hands and blocking his son from going up the staircase. "I know you didn't go to school today, they called me. So where were you really today? And don't try lying, 'cause I'll know."
Milo was often told as he grew up how much he looked like his father. He never personally saw the resemblance outside of the two of them sharing the same wavy brown hair, even if his father's was edging back on his scalp a bit.
Milo was caught off guard by this question. He could have sworn that he'd dropped off a doctors note that morning... unless that was yesterday. "I... I was in New Bark," Milo quickly lied. He had actually been north of Cherrygrove, simply walking about to enjoy the scenery of the fresh cherry blossoms.
"New Bark Town? What on Earth were you doing there?"
"Well, I wanted to see if they had any new Pokémon at the lab," he perpetuated the fallacy.
Now it was his father's turn to be thrown off balance as Milo could see from the blank expression he was being given. Finally getting his bearings his father asked, "Does this mean... does it mean that you're rethinking Pokémon training?" He had stopped drying the bowl in his hands and was waiting very anxiously for the answer.
"Well, I mean I've thought about it." This was true, Milo had been thinking of getting a Pokémon, but more for a pet than to train. And since Team Rocket activity had really quieted down on the news since all the slowpoke had returned to Azalea Town, he really had nothing to worry about. "It's been six years since... since I gave it up, and I think I'm ready now."
His father looked like he wanted to drop the mixing bowl and give his son a big hug but instead settled on asking him, "So what did they say at the lab? Do they have any?"
"They said to come back tomorrow," Milo lied again also ensuring him another day off of school.
"Oh, alright. I'll call the school and tell them you won't be there tomorrow. Also," his father said walking back into the kitchen, "I'll call Gran and Papa and tell them you'll be in town. Maybe you could check up on 'em, have a visit?"
Great, thought Milo as he started ascending the stairs, now I actually have to go. "Sure thing, dad."
When he got to his room, Milo sat on his bed across from his dresser and thought about what had just happened. He flopped onto his back and lay there for a while thinking about what he'd have to do tomorrow and hoped that, with any luck, there wouldn't be enough at the lab for him. He did want a Pokémon, just, maybe not yet.
After a while when supper was ready, Milo went downstairs where he found his father in a particularly good mood. Over dinner he had asked Milo a million questions including what had persuaded him to reconsider being a trainer and what type of Pokémon Milo wanted to get seeming to have completely forgotten that his son had skipped school. He then went on to try to persuade Milo to ask for a Normal type like he had until Milo had cleared his plate and retired back upstairs.
He played on his computer for a while before deciding to go to bed early. After all, Milo thought as he climbed under the covers and flicked his desk lamp out, I do have a big day tomorrow. He then groaned contemptuously, rolled over, and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep filled with blond men in black suits capturing him in Pokéballs.
[FONT="] [/FONT]
Chapter One: Bad Memories.
The sun overhead was shining lazily through the scattered clouds over a worn dusty path where a lone figure walked. He had nowhere in particular to be, nor was anyone perusing him, yet Milo Tern walked at a bisque pace. The puffy white clouds slid by causing the solitary figure to be plunged into shadow and then, within moments, have the cheery sunlight gaze down upon him once more.
Milo liked to walk with a purposeful stride. He believed that it made him look important, confidant, like he was a person who had somewhere to be, like he was a person that was made to be looked at. Not that he needed any help in that department, for Milo's masculine looks came in at a very young age, younger than any of his friends. By the age of nine Milo had lost his tummy that all little boys seem to have and soon his midsection had developed into firm muscle. By the time he was ten, Milo had started shaving and was getting more attention for his strong chin and broadening shoulders than anyone.
Milo was a nice guy, easy to get along with, and so that matched with his good looks, he soon became the most popular kid in school and a favorite to all the girls, even if most of them were too shy to even talk to him.
The dusty road wound its way slowly up a large hill covered in green grass and wildflowers, and when Milo reached the top he saw the short rooftops of Cherrygrove City, his home town, though he would never think to call it a city. Cherrygrove had no Gym or Contest Hall but it did house a small Mart, a few blocks of quaint, family houses, a school, and a Pokémon center. With hardly anything to do and not caring much to go to school on nice days like these, Milo, found himself going on these kinds of walks frequently.
Cherrygrove wasn't the kind of place anybody would visit, it was just a small town with a population of barely twelve thousand where you either went to settle down and get a home to raise your family, or to pass through without giving a second thought. In a way, Milo found that better than living in the big city, he liked to watch people come and go, usually traveling from New Bark Town on their way to Violet City, and listen to the adventures they were off to have.
Milo walked down the hill following the dirt path which led to a grove that separated the town from the wilderness. The shade under the dense foliage was pleasant on this warm Spring afternoon. As he passed through the small excerpt of forest, the young man noticed Rattata run off to hide from the intruder and Metapod withdraw themselves farther up amongst the brambles suspending themselves by shiny silver thread that seemed to reflect whatever light that had managed to penetrate the ceiling of green.
After passing through the serene darkness of the grove, it was a bit like a slap in the face when Milo stepped back out into the harsh sunlight and onto the sidewalk.
Growing up, Milo had always expressed great interest in becoming a Pokémon trainer, and so it was a shock to everyone when on his tenth birthday, Milo had returned from New Bark Town with no Pokémon companion, and saying that he had decided that he no longer wished to become a trainer. His father who was raising Milo by himself had to of course ask, why he had changed his mind, but, like when all of his friends and teachers asked the same thing, Milo refused to tell.
As he weaved his way through the streets of Cherrygrove, Milo thought about the events that occurred that day six years ago when he had gone to receive his first Pokémon, the events that only he would ever know about.
It had been a day not unlike this one, sunny, warm, he might have even gone as far as to say whimsical. He remembered that as he followed the main road towards the rising sun thinking to himself and deciding which new companion he should get. I should ask for Chickorita, dad said she was always mom's favorite. Or maybe Totodile. No! Cyndaquil! Hmm, I guess I'll just have to decide when I get there.
Milo had difficulty not running the whole way to New Bark Town out of excitement. Still, he couldn't be helped to not take a few shortcuts along the way, veering from the road time and again to speed over a hill or through a brush that the road simply wound around. He had been to New Bark Town several times before to visit his grandparents and was no stranger to the route, though he was still ever cautious of wild Pokémon.
He had been told time and again of the dangers of wild Pokémon if one is not protected. When Milo was just a baby, his mother and father had gone on a vacation up in the north and left him with his grandparents. Milo had been too young to remember the day when only his father returned, but as he grew up he had heard the story of what happened to the late Mrs. Tern through bits of conversations that seemed to stop short whenever he entered the room and overheard telephone calls.
It was a tragic tale, as Milo had pieced together, about a stampede of wild Donphan that had overtaken his parents jeep. They had both run for cover after one of the creatures had rammed into the vehicle turning it onto its side. His father had sought shelter behind a large boulder and thought that his wife had done the same, but looking back he saw her sprinting back towards the now terribly dented jeep, like she had forgotten something inside.
He had tried to shout to her to go and find cover but it was too late as upon reaching the car, another Donphan had collided with its undercarriage turning the jeep fully upside down and on top of Mrs. Tern. The mad stampede of hundreds of Pokémon continued, preventing Mr. Tern from reaching his wife, and also kicking up a large cloud of sand enveloping the scene.
Once the dust settled, Milo's parents jeep was just a mess of twisted metal fifty meters away and the body of his mother was never found. Nonetheless, this never stopped Mr. Tern from talking about his beloved late wife for hours on end whenever Milo asked, as long as it wasn't about how she had passed, and eventually he learned so much about his mother from the stories his dad would tell him, it felt to Milo as if he had known her for years.
However, horrific stories and their morals of caution can easily be forgotten in the heat of excitement of going to receive your first Pokémon, but it was not a wild Pokémon that had attacked Milo that summer's morning, it was something much more dangerous.
Ten year-old Milo approached a bend in the road that would take him around a large stretch of woods and then to New Bark Town, but, being this way countless times before, he knew that to simply go through the forest would cut his travel time in half. So just like countless times before, Milo stepped off of the path and into the dense foliage of gnarled roots, towering trunks, and green shrubbery.
He had always possessed an excellent sense of direction, even when he was young, so as Milo pushed his way through the brambles and boughs he did not loose sight of where he was or where he was going. When he had gone a ways into the brush and must have been about half way through, Milo found himself stumbling out of the trees and squinting in the sudden brightness of the sunlight.
When Milo's eyes finally adjusted he saw that he had come across a small oval-shaped clearing, barely fifty meters around. The sweet perfume he smelled hanging lazily in the air was coming from the multitude of tiny pink flowers that littered the ground.
Milo inhaled the sweet scent deeply and a wash of calm swept over him almost completely extinguishing the excitement that had been coursing through him all morning. He bent down and sat on the green-pink carpet to take a short rest and to watch the clouds roll by overhead before continuing on his trek to New Bark Town.
He sat in the clearing enjoying the rest he had allowed himself for only a short while before he noticed that there was something a bit off about the grove. Milo couldn't hear a single twitter or scurry of any Pokémon nearby. It was an eerie, heavy silence that caused Milo to rethink his choice of staying too long.
The young boy climbed to his feet about to continue into the foliage when, before Milo could tell what was happening, a shout came from the dark trees, "Tangela, now! Constrict"! From Milo's left came out of the woods a dozen deep turquoise vines that wrapped around his legs and arms binding them close to his body.
Loosing his balance, Milo fell heavily onto his front knocking the wind from his lungs. His vision blurred for a moment as he struggled to start breathing again, made only more difficult by the vines wrapped tightly around his chest.
Being a fairly well-liked kid, usually surrounded by his friends, this was the first time Milo had experienced any sort of bullying. This unpreparedness caused him more shock than Milo would have otherwise experienced.
When his vision cleared, Milo could only see the grass and flowers swaying lazily around his head until a sharp jab in his shoulder forced him onto his side. Now Milo could see that there were three figures standing over him, two men, Milo guessed in their early twenties, and the short blue-green Pokémon that was still constricting his limbs.
The man that had turned Milo over with his boot was dressed in an all-black jumpsuit that had a large orange "R" emblazoned on the chest, with knee-high gray boots and matching gray gloves and belt. He also wore a black cap over his full head of short, curly, blond hair. The second man who was dressed similarly but with straight, brown hair was bending over Milo who could feel the man frisking at his belt and rummaging through his pockets.
Coming up clean, the man with brown hair said to the other, "He's got nothin' on 'im".
"What do you mean nothing," said the one with blond hair who was sneering down at Milo just a moment ago but now was furrowing his brows in frustration.
He then got down on his hands and knees so that his face was inches from Milo's. "Listen kid," he said in a low but malicious tone, "where are your Pokémon?"
Being too scared to speak until now, Milo recovered his voice and shouted, "I don't have any!"
His face now contorted with rage, the blond man got back to his feet and delivered another kick to Milo's shoulder. "This was a waste of time, let's get out of here. And make sure the kid doesn't follow us."
"Right, Tangela, stun spore," the brown-haired man commanded before following his comrade back into the trees.
The vines binding Milo's arms and legs started to loosen but only when a shimmering gold dust came drifting down through the air. Wherever the powder settled on his skin he felt a tingling sensation followed by a stab of pain settling into numbness. Milo tried not to breathe in the spores, but when he could hold his breath no longer, unwillingly sucked in the damaging powder.
It felt as though his insides were ripping apart, but when Milo tried to writhe in excruciating pain he found that he couldn't move any part of his body. At that point he saw the dust stop spouting from the Tangela's crown and it too scurried off after its master leaving Milo all alone in the clearing.
Eventually the sweet perfume returned to the air when the dust settled and their special calming affect kept the young boy from panicking as he lay motionless on the ground for hours.
The sun arched through the sky and was on its downward decent when the feeling started to return to Milo's extremities, by which point he could hear the ruffling and chirping that indicated that the wild Pokémon had noticed that the threat was gone, and returned to the forest.
While he lay amongst the flowers and grass Milo had done a lot of thinking. He knew that the reason he had been attacked was because those men were after his Pokémon, and if he'd had any they would have taken them anyway. Maybe it was best that he not have Pokémon, not if they would only be taken by Team Rocket. Once Milo was strong enough to walk again, instead of completing his journey to New Bark Town he headed back home. He decided that it would be best to protect his Pokémon by not having any at all.
This first run in with danger caused Milo quite a bit of stress, and from which point on Milo had lost some of his confidence, not to say that he had become timid, but began more to enjoy the time he spent away from his friends to be contemplative and serene. Still though, the attack had left Milo feeling weak and vulnerable, but not wanting to show it, he decided to not speak of what had happened that day to anyone.
It was already twilight when Milo finally returned to Cherrygrove. Walking into town he was still scared and a little bit shaken, but he knew that he couldn't show that he was weak or people would start to think little of him. It was confidant Milo that had gotten all of his friends and status at school and it would be confidant Milo that kept them. And so he straightened his shoulders, put on a hard face, and walked the rest of the way home with the same purposeful stride he always had.
Now in the present day, sixteen-year-old Milo had turned down his street and was already walking up the drive to his home. Milo could tell his dad was inside by the way the front door was wide open and the only defense the house had from intruders was the rickety white screen door.
Milo pushed the screen open and stepped inside to be immediately greeted by a large four-legged creature that came lumbering towards him at top speed. The Pokémon rammed into Milo's legs, almost throwing him off balance, and immediately dropped to the floor and rolled onto its back.
"Hey girl, how's it goin'," Milo asked as he reached down to rub its deep purple-colored belly. His father's Granbull replied with an affectionate growl. "Dad, I'm home," Milo called out as he started towards the staircase beside the ajar kitchen door.
"Hey bud, how was school," came the reply from the kitchen.
"You know, same old. That Chris Hobbs is still on my case since the-"
"That was a trick question," his father cut him off stepping out of the kitchen with a mixing bowl and dishcloth in his hands and blocking his son from going up the staircase. "I know you didn't go to school today, they called me. So where were you really today? And don't try lying, 'cause I'll know."
Milo was often told as he grew up how much he looked like his father. He never personally saw the resemblance outside of the two of them sharing the same wavy brown hair, even if his father's was edging back on his scalp a bit.
Milo was caught off guard by this question. He could have sworn that he'd dropped off a doctors note that morning... unless that was yesterday. "I... I was in New Bark," Milo quickly lied. He had actually been north of Cherrygrove, simply walking about to enjoy the scenery of the fresh cherry blossoms.
"New Bark Town? What on Earth were you doing there?"
"Well, I wanted to see if they had any new Pokémon at the lab," he perpetuated the fallacy.
Now it was his father's turn to be thrown off balance as Milo could see from the blank expression he was being given. Finally getting his bearings his father asked, "Does this mean... does it mean that you're rethinking Pokémon training?" He had stopped drying the bowl in his hands and was waiting very anxiously for the answer.
"Well, I mean I've thought about it." This was true, Milo had been thinking of getting a Pokémon, but more for a pet than to train. And since Team Rocket activity had really quieted down on the news since all the slowpoke had returned to Azalea Town, he really had nothing to worry about. "It's been six years since... since I gave it up, and I think I'm ready now."
His father looked like he wanted to drop the mixing bowl and give his son a big hug but instead settled on asking him, "So what did they say at the lab? Do they have any?"
"They said to come back tomorrow," Milo lied again also ensuring him another day off of school.
"Oh, alright. I'll call the school and tell them you won't be there tomorrow. Also," his father said walking back into the kitchen, "I'll call Gran and Papa and tell them you'll be in town. Maybe you could check up on 'em, have a visit?"
Great, thought Milo as he started ascending the stairs, now I actually have to go. "Sure thing, dad."
When he got to his room, Milo sat on his bed across from his dresser and thought about what had just happened. He flopped onto his back and lay there for a while thinking about what he'd have to do tomorrow and hoped that, with any luck, there wouldn't be enough at the lab for him. He did want a Pokémon, just, maybe not yet.
After a while when supper was ready, Milo went downstairs where he found his father in a particularly good mood. Over dinner he had asked Milo a million questions including what had persuaded him to reconsider being a trainer and what type of Pokémon Milo wanted to get seeming to have completely forgotten that his son had skipped school. He then went on to try to persuade Milo to ask for a Normal type like he had until Milo had cleared his plate and retired back upstairs.
He played on his computer for a while before deciding to go to bed early. After all, Milo thought as he climbed under the covers and flicked his desk lamp out, I do have a big day tomorrow. He then groaned contemptuously, rolled over, and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep filled with blond men in black suits capturing him in Pokéballs.
[FONT="] [/FONT]
Last edited: