Enperuto
Lurking Connoisseur
- 72
- Posts
- 17
- Years
- Age 31
- Western Michigan
- Seen Dec 21, 2008
Prompt was birth. Not very long, but it feels good to post something again. G, by the way.
641 words | 1 page at Verdana 9 pt.
Sento Cherry Town was small, but it felt like the entire world to ten year old Jonathan Dickson as he stepped slowly from his low-roofed home, his mother following him. "Uncle Mark has a pokémon for you," she said cheerfully. She took the lead through the town. His father was already off to work, having said a short goodbye over breakfast. He worked over in the town's pokéball factory.
"Really?" Jonathan asked wide-eyed. His uncle was a ranch hand at a large pokémon a bit north of the town nestled into the Johto hills.
The whole town, it seemed, was out to see him off. His brother had left four years ago, placed well in the Johto League, and moved on to Kanto, where he was still traveling. He was one of the few kids, and the only other ten year old was Jennifer Perez, who had left two days ago after her parents had caught for her an Oddish. Other than that, he was all alone. But now he didn't feel alone. He felt the pulse of the town, of the people cheering him on and sending him off.
The pulse faded as they left the town proper and crossed a long meadow. They reached the ranch house and walked through the gate to a field patchwork grass chewed here and there by pasture pokémon. His uncle leaned against a bare wooden fence, grinning. "Hey, Jonny boy!" He walked over to the two and hugged Jonathan's mother. Uncle Mark reached deep into the folds of his tan leather jacket and withdrew his hand. He hid the object from view until he flipped it upward. Jonathan caught it. Barely. He looked at it. A red and white pokéball sat in his palm, looking much smaller than he had imagined.
"Thank you, sir," Jonathan said as he maximized the pokéball.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!"
Jonathan nodded slowly. He reached down and pressed the small white button between the two half spheres. A red beam of light shot out and hit the ground. It slowly took form.
He smiled. "Thank you, Uncle Mark." He stroked the ponyta's head, careful to avoid the weakly flickering flame that run from head to tail. He hugged his uncle then looked to his mother. She smiled back at him, and Jonathan took the pokéball and slid it into backpack. "We're ready to go, buddy," he said. He leaned over and hugged his fire-type horse. And they started off, walking slowly. His uncle and mother followed him, and as he walked down the town's main street small children gazed out of windows, envying him. Senior citizens smiled, recalling the good old times of their own journey.
I am going to do what my brother couldn't do. I am going to win the Silver Conference. He said this though he knew the odds. He knew he wouldn't win. But within this shell of doubt there was born a small feeble hope. He did not feel it now, and no one else did.
Except his mother, deep down in her heart. She had thought the same of Jonathan's brother Thomas, but not as strongly. She smiled as he rounded the bend and disappeared into the late spring day. She smiled two weeks later when he showed her his newly won Zephyr Gym. And she smiled every time after that. All seven. She smiled to cheer him up when he told her about his losses, every time. And in the crisp October afternoon when, Mount Silver standing proud in the corner of her high, her son slowly walked up onto the podium, smiled at the spindly Mr. Goodshow, and bowed, she smiled a big smile. She laughed in joy, finally, as he rose his and touted the Johto League Championship Trophy.
641 words | 1 page at Verdana 9 pt.
Birth of a Champion
Sento Cherry Town was small, but it felt like the entire world to ten year old Jonathan Dickson as he stepped slowly from his low-roofed home, his mother following him. "Uncle Mark has a pokémon for you," she said cheerfully. She took the lead through the town. His father was already off to work, having said a short goodbye over breakfast. He worked over in the town's pokéball factory.
"Really?" Jonathan asked wide-eyed. His uncle was a ranch hand at a large pokémon a bit north of the town nestled into the Johto hills.
The whole town, it seemed, was out to see him off. His brother had left four years ago, placed well in the Johto League, and moved on to Kanto, where he was still traveling. He was one of the few kids, and the only other ten year old was Jennifer Perez, who had left two days ago after her parents had caught for her an Oddish. Other than that, he was all alone. But now he didn't feel alone. He felt the pulse of the town, of the people cheering him on and sending him off.
The pulse faded as they left the town proper and crossed a long meadow. They reached the ranch house and walked through the gate to a field patchwork grass chewed here and there by pasture pokémon. His uncle leaned against a bare wooden fence, grinning. "Hey, Jonny boy!" He walked over to the two and hugged Jonathan's mother. Uncle Mark reached deep into the folds of his tan leather jacket and withdrew his hand. He hid the object from view until he flipped it upward. Jonathan caught it. Barely. He looked at it. A red and white pokéball sat in his palm, looking much smaller than he had imagined.
"Thank you, sir," Jonathan said as he maximized the pokéball.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!"
Jonathan nodded slowly. He reached down and pressed the small white button between the two half spheres. A red beam of light shot out and hit the ground. It slowly took form.
He smiled. "Thank you, Uncle Mark." He stroked the ponyta's head, careful to avoid the weakly flickering flame that run from head to tail. He hugged his uncle then looked to his mother. She smiled back at him, and Jonathan took the pokéball and slid it into backpack. "We're ready to go, buddy," he said. He leaned over and hugged his fire-type horse. And they started off, walking slowly. His uncle and mother followed him, and as he walked down the town's main street small children gazed out of windows, envying him. Senior citizens smiled, recalling the good old times of their own journey.
I am going to do what my brother couldn't do. I am going to win the Silver Conference. He said this though he knew the odds. He knew he wouldn't win. But within this shell of doubt there was born a small feeble hope. He did not feel it now, and no one else did.
Except his mother, deep down in her heart. She had thought the same of Jonathan's brother Thomas, but not as strongly. She smiled as he rounded the bend and disappeared into the late spring day. She smiled two weeks later when he showed her his newly won Zephyr Gym. And she smiled every time after that. All seven. She smiled to cheer him up when he told her about his losses, every time. And in the crisp October afternoon when, Mount Silver standing proud in the corner of her high, her son slowly walked up onto the podium, smiled at the spindly Mr. Goodshow, and bowed, she smiled a big smile. She laughed in joy, finally, as he rose his and touted the Johto League Championship Trophy.
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