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Pokémon Chasm

Started by Cybernova March 29th, 2019 10:29 AM
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  • 3 replies

Cybernova

An idle mind is the devil's workshop.

Male
I would have to kill you if I had to tell you that.
Seen March 31st, 2019
Posted March 30th, 2019
19 posts
3.8 Years
CHASM is a horror as well as a thriller story. I think it belongs to the 'Horror' genre as some segments of the story were written with the sole purpose of leaving the readers disturbed and unsettled, but there are still some elements of Pokemon like Pokemon battles in the story. Anyway, it was just an experiment to see if even Pokemon could be scary.
This series is heavily influenced by the novels of Stephen King, and I also tend to follow his writing style.
As for the ratings, I think I would set it to about 13+ because of some violence and mildy disturbing scenes. If the first chapter isn't even mildly disturbing, then I guess I'll just lower it to 10+ or something and give up on the project. In the end, it all comes down to your feedback.
I know the first chapter seems to be sorta lengthy, but try your best to push through the first few paragraphs of character development; again, I picked up this habit of literary diarrhea from Stephen King.

Synopsis:
Littleroot is a quaint and peaceful town, an uneventful haven in the forest frequented by only the most ascetic of priests and sages and by people with an insatiable yearning for a life of solitude at the heart of Mother Nature herself. All of this changes when a group of children are forced to come face-to-face with an otherworldly force of unimaginable evil. Malice slowly creeps into the innocent heart of the town; the children are forced to confront this force as the dark history of the town starts to unravel and as it's inhabitants descend into a spiral of madness and violence.


Chapter One:

“Watch out for Zubats. Those damned things will bite your head off if you wake them in the middle of one of their naps. My good friend, Alistair Corevine was nearly mauled to death by one of them while he was down here mining for diamonds. Poor bastard died later from the wounds, struggling and raving like a madman. Had to be restrained..."

Nick shivered, suddenly extremely self-conscious of the darkness that enveloped him in the caverns. He proceeded to start grinding his nails between his teeth and cursed Mitch for his unwise decision to always narrate his most unsettling stories while they were dwelling in the darkest recesses of the vast cave system, so vast and leviathan in it’s size that they could be lost to the infinite darkness at any time, and they would never be found in this labyrinthine maze, simply vanishing without a trace in the dead of the night...

Nick nervously pushed the thought out of his mind and tried to think of more happier and pleasant matters, but the disturbing scenarios and stories never ceased to return to him, insistently nagging him with the question ‘what if?’ over and over again until his feet were trembling and his chest heaved with heavy breaths.

Mitch, was however, completely oblivious to the fact that Nick was having a paroxysm of irrational fear; he continued narrating his tales, the raconteur in him surfacing while he swayed a gas-lit lantern that he clutched in his right hand in a maladroit manner. Nick seemed to think the light was dimming and slowly dying out, being buffeted by some ominous, unseen force of evil, and if he had told Mitch this, he would’ve launched into an account of how an entire company of miners had perished in this specific section of the mines when their sole source of illumination was lost to the darkness, and were never seen or heard from again, and Nick would’ve reacted to this by instantaneously soiling his pants.

(whatifthelightsdieoutwhatifmitchstopstalkingwhatifIfallthroughthecavernfloorwhatifwhatifwhatif)

Nick screamed as the cavern floor beneath him gave away to darkness and he fell through empty air, falling, falling, falling until he was in the maw of the-

(!HELPMEHELPMEHELPME!)

A callused hand closed over his belly which hoisted him up and his feet came into contact with solid ground; his fear evaporated into the open air and he realised that he’d just tripped on some rock in the floor.

“You OK, buddy?” Mitch asked, not stopping to check whether he was injured.

“Yeah, I think so…” replied Nick while dusting off his pants.

Mitch made a guttural noise that resembled an acknowledgement of his words that sounded more like the growl of a feral Ursaring, then went back to talking about Zubats and how they were nasty creatures, and started furnishing him with details of their biological make-up.
The darkness began to gradually falter, and silvery moonlight flooded the entrance of the mine which was filled to the brim with equipment for excavation and makeshift helmets.

There, Nick’s faithful companion, a Rattata, was tied to a single salvaged fence-post that had been buried in the walls of the mine. The Rattata emerged from a long nap as Nick proceeded to untie it, and it looked at him with large and beady eyes, and his heart melted when he made eye contact with it; it was a look of unconditional and undying love for its master, for the Rattata would follow him wherever he went with the utmost loyalty and would even lay down its life for him.

Both of them had been acquainted at a very young age; Nick had met it in the forest, just like every child in Littleroot, and had eventually befriended it by saving it from strangulation at the hands of a wild and extremely hungry Tangela. Since then, the Rattata had been bonded to him for life.

“You’re a good kid, Nick,” Mitch said, ruffling his hair before placing a large wad of cash in his hands.

“I’ll need you to do some mining work for me on Wednesday. I’ll show you where to dig…be here before dusk,” he said before leaving. Mitch had been the head of the mining community for almost 50 years, and his hair had begun to turn grey; his facial features were obscured by a thick screen of facial hair that swept across his face like flecks of silver. Scratching his beard, he departed for his home, saddened by the thought of having to confront his bilious wife who would be incensed that he was late for dinner.

The entrance of the mine emerged into a glade which was surrounded by a dense forest and thick grass, populated by populations of wild Pokemon. It was dangerous to be out during the night, as most peaceful Pokemon retreated into slumber during the night and it was only the unknown and the malicious that lurked in the shadows during the witching hour.

Nick collapsed in the clearing, burying his face in the cool and wet grass.

I should just take a nap here. Too tired to go to the orphanage… he thought, exhaustion clouding his thoughts. His decision was met with no fear, for he knew sleeping in the open posed no immediate danger in an innocent little town like Littleroot.

His thoughts swirled around repaying debts and new opportunities for labour before he finally descended into sleep, and his Rattata settled down beside him, pressing its fur to his back and curling into a ball.

A few minutes later, Nick woke up, stretched his arms and stood up, and his head smashed into the ceiling of the cavern. He winced in pain, and tried to survey his surroundings, but his eyes only met darkness and his ears only heard the song of silence. As confusion and panic began to take gold of him, Nick began to search for his Rattata, his loyal and trustworthy companion who would lead him back into the-

Sharp fangs snapped at his emaciated hand and amputated one of his fingers.

At first, Nick did not scream or attempt to even move; he simply stared at the Rattata in a mixture of crippling shock and confusion. He failed to register any pain as his mind was flooded with denial.

"Rattata, what are you-"

He stared into the Rattata's eyes and his breath caught in his throat as realised that it's beady and loving eyes had been replaced with two pitch-black chasms, an abyss of darkness from which no light escaped, the darkness that thrived and feasted on fear in the suffocating miasma of the caves. Overwhelmed by the malice emanating from the eyes, Nick screamed and he started to pound through the infinite darkness of the caverns, and he heard the Rattata snarl at him from behind him in such an animalistic manner that it shattered his ears.

All of a sudden, the thought that this creature was not his Rattata and was in fact, some monster that had arisen from the darkness of the mines seemed to immensely comfort him. His Rattata would never growl at him, never bite him, never even dare to hurt him for it was his best friend and his only companion in this strange and cruel world, where everyone had abandoned him and scorned him and it was only his Rattata-

Nick suddenly ran into a wall, and he felt the bones in his nose break into smithereens, and his vision exploded into stars that turned the interior of the cavern into a scintillating image of blood and reddish lights. Unbearable pain forced him to his knees, but even then, he felt along the walls of the cavern desperately for some exit, some hole through which he could escape…

The Rattata approached him and Nick attempted to talk to it. It simply trotted up to him and sunk a pair of blood-stained incisors into his throat as he screamed and struggled against the wall of the cave.

His mouth twitched wildly, forming the words ‘my rattata, my rattata, my rattata’ over and over again even as the blood gushed into his throat and out of his mouth. It was reduced to nothing but gurgling as his eyeballs rolled down to watch the Rattata starting to feast on him, starting from his cold feet.

Vragon2.0

Say it with me (Vray-gun)

Male
As if I'd be one to say
Seen 2 Hours Ago
Posted 3 Days Ago
275 posts
1.5 Years
So, creepies, crawlings, and cute rats. My, my, what cave have we stumbled into this time.
Heya, so first off I wanna say that the premise of this sounds interesting. To be honest, I was kind of surprised how it ended considering you did say it was the 1st chapter. I presume either it's a collection of short stories like this or potentially a thing he's waking up from (I mean he did take a nap beforehand) so if it's the case of the latter I'd recommend adding something to the end to indicate that.

Regarding the writing, it's pretty good though I would suggest formatting it so there's a space between new paragraphs/dialgoue sections since that makes it easier to read.
whatifthelightsdieoutwhatifmitchstopstalkingwhatifIfallthroughthecavernfloorwhatifwhatifwhatif Nick screamed as the cavern floor beneath him gave away to darkness and he fell through empty air, falling, falling, falling until he was in the maw of the- !HELPMEHELPMEHELPME!

A callused hand closed over his belly which hoisted him up and his feet came into contact with solid ground; his fear evaporated into the open air and he realised that he’d just tripped on some rock in the floor.
See much easier to read.

As for content, I have a stomach of steel so it ain't that scary for me personally, but I can understand if it is for other peeps and folks that read this. The creepy aspects I do wish were drawn out more like with the Ratatta attacking, but props for having it attacking him and eating him. I like the set up stories, that other character definitely didn't add to Nick's confidence heh.

All in all, not a bad start, I wish you well.

“A friend is someone who understands your past, believes in your future, and accepts you just the way you are.”
– Unknown

Cybernova

An idle mind is the devil's workshop.

Male
I would have to kill you if I had to tell you that.
Seen March 31st, 2019
Posted March 30th, 2019
19 posts
3.8 Years
So, creepies, crawlings, and cute rats. My, my, what cave have we stumbled into this time.
Heya, so first off I wanna say that the premise of this sounds interesting. To be honest, I was kind of surprised how it ended considering you did say it was the 1st chapter. I presume either it's a collection of short stories like this or potentially a thing he's waking up from (I mean he did take a nap beforehand) so if it's the case of the latter I'd recommend adding something to the end to indicate that.

Regarding the writing, it's pretty good though I would suggest formatting it so there's a space between new paragraphs/dialgoue sections since that makes it easier to read.


See much easier to read.

As for content, I have a stomach of steel so it ain't that scary for me personally, but I can understand if it is for other peeps and folks that read this. The creepy aspects I do wish were drawn out more like with the Ratatta attacking, but props for having it attacking him and eating him. I like the set up stories, that other character definitely didn't add to Nick's confidence heh.

All in all, not a bad start, I wish you well.
Thank you for the feedback, Vragon. I did not expect to start getting comments this early on! I made some formatting changes and fleshed out the the scene in the cave a bit more, but I must confess that I am clearly not eloquent enough to add the dash of fear to the story that actually makes it scary. I had a bit of trouble with describing how the Rattata was not his Rattata anymore and had acquired something akin to rabies that stripped it of any past memories or love towards him.

I prefer to take the progression of the story-line a bit slower than most people do, and I fill it in segment by segment. I'll eventually get to the main plot, so don't worry. Just need to set the mood and do some worldbuilding before I set in motion. Please bear with me until then! :D

Thanks a ton for the feedback, anyway.

Cybernova

An idle mind is the devil's workshop.

Male
I would have to kill you if I had to tell you that.
Seen March 31st, 2019
Posted March 30th, 2019
19 posts
3.8 Years
Chapter Two:

Ethereal sunlight flooded the forests and the sun emerged from behind the endless row of trees, bathing Littleroot in warm sunshine. Mother Valentine stood on the porch of the orphanage, sipping a cup of steaming coffee and basking in the sunlight of the early morning, happy to be away from the incessant nagging of the children, even if only for a few peaceful moments.
This thought was followed by mild guilt; she had no right to be feeling so cheerful when one of her children were missing from their beds. She sighed and seated herself on the edge of the porch, her dirty feet dangling several feet above the loamy earth. The travails of caretaking and maintaining the orphanage had stripped her of any joy or optimism over the agonisingly long years, leaving only a desiccated and cadaverous shadow of her former self.
A long time ago, she had been a nurse at a Pokémon centre in Rustboro city, a remote city at the heart of Hoenn. The Pokémon Centres had been coloured in lurid and vibrant shades to compensate for the horrible and obscene experiments and procedures that took place in the operation theatres, where Pokémon where vivisected and studied, and the pernicious effects of their attacks on humans were analysed and stowed away in the form of notes in some mahogany drawer. Everyday, trainers driven to insanity by some wild psychic-type Pokémon were brought in on wheelchairs while burn patients and acid victims were wheeled in on stretchers. One of the worst cases Valentine had seen was a 10-year-old boy whose body had been torn to shreds by a wild Gible. One of his eyeballs had rolled out of his sockets and landed at Valentine’s feet as she wheeled him through the endless, blood-stained corridors. As she screamed, she realised the boy was screaming too, and then the even more sickening realisation came to her that his jaw had been broken and his mouth was actually hanging open.
As the cases grew exponentially more macabre and as the endless cacophony of screaming and sobbing grew louder and louder in volume, Nurse Valentine’s sanity began to fall apart. The mere idea of even so much as touching a Pokémon frightened her; every time she saw another innocent kid hanging out with a starter Pokémon, all she saw was another potential case flashing before her eyes, a horrifying image superimposed on reality; Chimchars resisting domestication and setting some poor kid on fire, a Squirtle decapitating a child’s head with a high-pressure water gun, and Bulbasaurs turning healthy children into purple, bloated slabs of meat with poison powder.
Yet, the thought that frightened her so much that she cried in her sleep and eventually became an insomniac to avoid her grotesque nightmares was the fact that all of the patients brought to the Pokémon centre were children. Not a single adult; always children. The Pokémon centre blinded them to the dangers of the outside world with it’s lurid decorations and beautiful, soft-spoken nurses and staff, and even the people who ran the centres were aware of it. This was the reason why there were two entrances to the Pokémon centre, one hidden at the back for patients in critical condition while the one in the front was for non-emergency purposes, where tired and battered Pokémon would be healed by a holographic projection of Nurse Joy and a sickeningly angelic Chansey.
Eventually, when her son proudly proclaimed that he was going to head out into the world and become the world’s best Pokémon trainer, she had screamed in his face with rage and tried to lock him in his closet. The violent scuffle that ensued devolved into a desultory verbal argument, and Valentine’s words began to degrade into guttural noises and sobs as she stared into her son’s calm face, which was rich in confidence and ignorance, which never seemed to yield to her words. The argument grew more and more heated and Valentine eventually grabbed a steaming skillet and bludgeoned her son to death, battering his crushed head with the skillet over and over again even after it had grown still, with hands that did not tremble in the slightest.
Under a plea of insanity, Valentine escaped death and was stowed away in the town of Littleroot, an alien town that had no connections at all to modern civilisation, except for their flourishing trade in timber and poultry. On some nights, Valentine cried her heart out for her son, remembering his innocent and loving eyes, but on some nights, she also despised him and felt that she had been right in killing him.
But more often than not, she repented for her brutal act and tried to atone for it by caring for the children in the orphanage, but sometimes, it was so hard to not just pick up the antique clock that sat on the showcase and batter them with it until they were obedient and silent.
A Swellow perched on her lap, and she leaped back in fright, swatting at it and backing away towards the entrance of the orphanage. The Swellow sprung into the air and flew away into the distant horizon, leaving only a single, solitary feather that fell to the earth. Valentine groaned, pressing her hand to her forehead.
You think too much, she thought, with mental exhaustion. She walked back into the orphanage, leaving her mug on the porch and walking up to the showcase where she observed the antique clock. It was nearly nine in the morning; where the hell was Nick?
She moved through the dormitories, checking each and every bed for Nick, but failed to find him. She decided to venture out into the town and search for him there. She asked each and every villager she saw in the town square whether they had seen Nick, but none of the seemed to know who he was, even though they were pretty well acquainted with the most of the kids from the orphanage who did labours for them. She chalked it up to the fact that he was a very retiring boy who only seemed to hang out with that Rattata, something she had warned him against doing, but the sudden remembrance of her own late son had sapped all the energy from her and she didn’t bother arguing with him.
She spent the entire morning searching for him, but it yielded no results. When she had asked Mitch’s wife whether she had seen him, she had replied with a ‘no’ and said that her husband had left town to sell some iron ingots at the nearby trading hub.
Defeated, she headed back to the orphanage, and any concern for Nick was bogged down by her sudden realisation that it was time to make the kids breakfast. As the long list of her labours stretched out before her in her mind, she sighed, already overcome with exhaustion.
Lesser kids mean lesser mouths to feed, she thought without a hint of remorse. Even though the annual charity fund from the Hoenn Government was more than enough to feed the children, she still hated having to deal with one more child.
Stupid kid must’ve run off into the forest with that nasty thing. Never liked that brat anyway, she thought.
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