txteclipse
The Last
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- Riverside
- Seen Aug 20, 2023
Well, what to say? I've been writing this fic for quite a while now, and I've decided to post it. I'd love some constructive criticism, so any you have to offer would be great. This story takes place in medieval times in the world of pokemon. Enjoy!
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Chapter One
A young boy named Ren was walking home from the market, having bought the next day's supply of food for his family. His features were unstriking, except that he was very skinny and had shockingly red hair. He lived on a farm near the outskirts of town, along with his mother and father. His family ran a very small business selling candles that barely brought in enough money to keep them alive. The meals tomorrow would be meager, with mostly bread and water to eat and drink. Today, however, Ren counted himself lucky. It was his thirteenth birthday, and his father had given him a very small amount of money to buy himself a present. So, after buying the food his family always seemed to have too little of, he walked with bags in hand to a small stand that was always present in the marketplace, and always run by the same old, one-eyed man.
He often visited this stand, which was covered with many trinkets and curiosities. Most passers-by would call these things worthless, but Ren was infinitely fascinated by the seemingly endless amount of things this old decrepit man had for sale.
"Hello there, Ren" the man offered in friendly greeting.
"Good day, sir" Ren replied and began to scan the items arrayed across the table. His eyes settled upon a small, smooth, red stone with a white triangle seemingly painted on its surface. He had never seen it on the table before. He held the object up.
"How much are you asking for this?" Ren inquired.
The old man chuckled. "I thought you might like that," he said. "That stone has actually been handed down in my family for generations. But alas, I have no children to accept it as their inheritance. Luckily for you, however, I heard tell that today is your birthday. Now, I wouldn't do this for just anybody, nor would I do it often, but consider that stone my birthday gift to you."
Ren stood there shocked, mouth hanging agape. He couldn't remember the last time anyone outside of his family had given him a gift. "Are…are you sure?" he stammered. "I don't think I could accept such a gift. If this stone has been passed down through generations of your family, isn't it important to you?"
The old man chuckled again. "Of course it's important to me" he said. "That's why I'm giving it to you. Don't you see? I'm obviously getting along in years. What will happen to that stone when I pass along? I'd rather you have it than let it pass on to whoever decides they have a right to my belongings!" The man ended his sentence with a laugh, but Ren detected a hard glint in his eyes. The boy thought no more of it though as he thanked the man profusely and went on his way.
Ren walked home on a dusty road that was painted gold by the setting sun. He felt as though the surprisingly heavy stone in the bottom of his pocket might as well have been made of gold, too. However, his happiness soon faded as he heard a sound that chilled his heart and made his palms begin to sweat. It was a low, penetrating growl that signified he was about to be greeted by very unpleasant company. A Houndour stepped onto the trail, followed closely by its owner.
"Well, look who it is, Houndour!" the other boy said, two years Ren's senior. "It's the little brat!" This boy had taken it upon himself to insult and humiliate Ren at every chance.
"Leave me alone, Kairn," Ren said, his voice quaking a little. He wished to simply run away, but he knew he could never live that down. So he stood his ground, legs quivering slightly. Kairn threw his head back and laughed.
"Ha! Leave you alone? Why would I do that, when you and I are such good friends?" He took a more casual stance before continuing. "I heard it was your birthday today. I was wondering, why didn't you invite me to your birthday party?"
Ren answered in a small voice. "My family can't afford a birthday party right now. I'm sorry, Kairn, I would have invited you if I could," He lied.
Kairn laughed again. "Aww, that's okay, Ren. Hey, I know! Why don't we have a party for you right here?" he said. "I think you should give me a welcome gift," he continued, pointing at Ren's bag of bread. "Houndour!" he shouted in an authoritative voice. "Go fetch me that bag!"
Ren stood and watched helplessly as the Houndour raced down the lane towards him. If he moved or resisted, the Houndour could bite him; or worse, the flame-imbued pokemon might breath fire on him and set his clothes or hair alight. The Houndour ran up close and jumped as he neared Ren, neatly snatching the bag of bread out of his hands. He then returned to Kairn's side, who reached down and grabbed the bag from the pokemon's jaws.
"Hey, thanks a lot, Ren," Kairn said, pulling a loaf of bread from the bag and biting into it. "This bread isn't half-bad," he commented around a mouthful of food. "You really should get some more for yourself," he finished, turning and walking back down the road with his Houndour.
Ren walked the rest of the way home in the dark. He told his parents about the mishap with Kairn, and then went to his room, where he flopped down on his bed and waited for sleep. Cold air blew in through cracks in the walls, chilling him. His stomach grumbled; empty. He lay there for a time, uncomfortable and unable to fall asleep. He heard his parents talking faintly; about him, no doubt, and about their lack of food.
A painful, hollow feeling overcame Ren, and he tossed about in his bed. He thought about Kairn and why he was so unkind. He thought about his parents, and about how hard they worked to make ends meet. He thought about how cold it was getting, with winter coming on, and worried if his family would be warm enough, or if they would have enough food, or one of many other things he often worried about.
Then his thoughts strayed to his brother, Bron. His brother, five years older, had always been by Ren's side. He and Ren where inseparable when they were younger, and his older brother's shadow was always a comfort to him. It was also a deterrent to bullies like Kairn, who where all too quick to taunt Ren when he was alone, but much less persistent when his older brother was around.
If only he was around. Bron had died two winters ago, when he came down with a terrible fever after rescuing Ren from a freezing river. Bron had been teaching his younger brother how to hunt, showing him how to follow tracks in the snow and teaching him to use a bow and throwing knives fashioned from wood and tempered over a fire. They had needed to cross a frozen river, and Ren, being the lightest, went first. The ice had not been thick enough to support Ren's weight, and he fell through.
Bron dove in after him, and carried Ren on his back during the swim out of the river. They passed that night in the snow under a broad oak tree, Bron holding Ren to keep him warm and telling him stories to drive his fear away. Bron carved images from his tales into the tree trunk.
The next day, Bron carried Ren back to their home. The older boy acted strong, but signs of his sickness were already beginning to show. He stumbled more and more often as they neared their house. At one point, he dropped Ren during a fall and lay still for a few minutes before Ren could revive him.
After they arrived, Bron's sickness overcame him and their parents put him to bed. Ren kept a constant vigil over his brother: he only looked away when he had to eat or sleep overcame him. However, Bron's fever soared, and he eventually stopped eating. His determined spirit kept him alive for a month before he passed away.
Ren had spent too many tears on his brother already. He now tried to remember the good times he had had with his brother, the things they had done together, where they had gone, what they had seen. He took some comfort as he remembered his brother's smiling face.
Suddenly, Ren noticed that something was digging into his thigh. He rolled onto his back, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his birthday money, along with the strange stone the old man had given him earlier. He placed the money on the bed next to him, and held the stone up to his face in the murky darkness. He could just barely see its outline and red color, and he held it closer until he could make out the white triangle on one side. He wondered what this curious object could possibly be.
Then he noticed something he hadn't before. On one side, just opposite the white triangle, was a small, triangular indentation in the stone's surface. It still gave him no idea as to the stone's purpose, so he laid it alongside his money and drifted into a restless sleep.
Ren dreamed a strange dream that night. He saw himself with Bron under the oak tree, where they had spent that horrifying night two winters ago. In his dream, he and Bron both disappeared, and the symbols Bron had carved on the tree grew bright. Ren stared at the symbols for a long time, studying the depictions of fantastic creatures and breathtaking landscapes, and they seemed to etch themselves into his memory. Suddenly, a hole opened at the base of the tree, and a light shone out as the dream ended. Next to Ren's sleeping form, the small stone glowed faintly and then dimmed.
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EDIT: One-and-a-half years after writing this, I come back to give it the editing it deserves. I didn't really change it in terms of story, but there should be very few grammar mistakes now.
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Chapter One
A young boy named Ren was walking home from the market, having bought the next day's supply of food for his family. His features were unstriking, except that he was very skinny and had shockingly red hair. He lived on a farm near the outskirts of town, along with his mother and father. His family ran a very small business selling candles that barely brought in enough money to keep them alive. The meals tomorrow would be meager, with mostly bread and water to eat and drink. Today, however, Ren counted himself lucky. It was his thirteenth birthday, and his father had given him a very small amount of money to buy himself a present. So, after buying the food his family always seemed to have too little of, he walked with bags in hand to a small stand that was always present in the marketplace, and always run by the same old, one-eyed man.
He often visited this stand, which was covered with many trinkets and curiosities. Most passers-by would call these things worthless, but Ren was infinitely fascinated by the seemingly endless amount of things this old decrepit man had for sale.
"Hello there, Ren" the man offered in friendly greeting.
"Good day, sir" Ren replied and began to scan the items arrayed across the table. His eyes settled upon a small, smooth, red stone with a white triangle seemingly painted on its surface. He had never seen it on the table before. He held the object up.
"How much are you asking for this?" Ren inquired.
The old man chuckled. "I thought you might like that," he said. "That stone has actually been handed down in my family for generations. But alas, I have no children to accept it as their inheritance. Luckily for you, however, I heard tell that today is your birthday. Now, I wouldn't do this for just anybody, nor would I do it often, but consider that stone my birthday gift to you."
Ren stood there shocked, mouth hanging agape. He couldn't remember the last time anyone outside of his family had given him a gift. "Are…are you sure?" he stammered. "I don't think I could accept such a gift. If this stone has been passed down through generations of your family, isn't it important to you?"
The old man chuckled again. "Of course it's important to me" he said. "That's why I'm giving it to you. Don't you see? I'm obviously getting along in years. What will happen to that stone when I pass along? I'd rather you have it than let it pass on to whoever decides they have a right to my belongings!" The man ended his sentence with a laugh, but Ren detected a hard glint in his eyes. The boy thought no more of it though as he thanked the man profusely and went on his way.
Ren walked home on a dusty road that was painted gold by the setting sun. He felt as though the surprisingly heavy stone in the bottom of his pocket might as well have been made of gold, too. However, his happiness soon faded as he heard a sound that chilled his heart and made his palms begin to sweat. It was a low, penetrating growl that signified he was about to be greeted by very unpleasant company. A Houndour stepped onto the trail, followed closely by its owner.
"Well, look who it is, Houndour!" the other boy said, two years Ren's senior. "It's the little brat!" This boy had taken it upon himself to insult and humiliate Ren at every chance.
"Leave me alone, Kairn," Ren said, his voice quaking a little. He wished to simply run away, but he knew he could never live that down. So he stood his ground, legs quivering slightly. Kairn threw his head back and laughed.
"Ha! Leave you alone? Why would I do that, when you and I are such good friends?" He took a more casual stance before continuing. "I heard it was your birthday today. I was wondering, why didn't you invite me to your birthday party?"
Ren answered in a small voice. "My family can't afford a birthday party right now. I'm sorry, Kairn, I would have invited you if I could," He lied.
Kairn laughed again. "Aww, that's okay, Ren. Hey, I know! Why don't we have a party for you right here?" he said. "I think you should give me a welcome gift," he continued, pointing at Ren's bag of bread. "Houndour!" he shouted in an authoritative voice. "Go fetch me that bag!"
Ren stood and watched helplessly as the Houndour raced down the lane towards him. If he moved or resisted, the Houndour could bite him; or worse, the flame-imbued pokemon might breath fire on him and set his clothes or hair alight. The Houndour ran up close and jumped as he neared Ren, neatly snatching the bag of bread out of his hands. He then returned to Kairn's side, who reached down and grabbed the bag from the pokemon's jaws.
"Hey, thanks a lot, Ren," Kairn said, pulling a loaf of bread from the bag and biting into it. "This bread isn't half-bad," he commented around a mouthful of food. "You really should get some more for yourself," he finished, turning and walking back down the road with his Houndour.
Ren walked the rest of the way home in the dark. He told his parents about the mishap with Kairn, and then went to his room, where he flopped down on his bed and waited for sleep. Cold air blew in through cracks in the walls, chilling him. His stomach grumbled; empty. He lay there for a time, uncomfortable and unable to fall asleep. He heard his parents talking faintly; about him, no doubt, and about their lack of food.
A painful, hollow feeling overcame Ren, and he tossed about in his bed. He thought about Kairn and why he was so unkind. He thought about his parents, and about how hard they worked to make ends meet. He thought about how cold it was getting, with winter coming on, and worried if his family would be warm enough, or if they would have enough food, or one of many other things he often worried about.
Then his thoughts strayed to his brother, Bron. His brother, five years older, had always been by Ren's side. He and Ren where inseparable when they were younger, and his older brother's shadow was always a comfort to him. It was also a deterrent to bullies like Kairn, who where all too quick to taunt Ren when he was alone, but much less persistent when his older brother was around.
If only he was around. Bron had died two winters ago, when he came down with a terrible fever after rescuing Ren from a freezing river. Bron had been teaching his younger brother how to hunt, showing him how to follow tracks in the snow and teaching him to use a bow and throwing knives fashioned from wood and tempered over a fire. They had needed to cross a frozen river, and Ren, being the lightest, went first. The ice had not been thick enough to support Ren's weight, and he fell through.
Bron dove in after him, and carried Ren on his back during the swim out of the river. They passed that night in the snow under a broad oak tree, Bron holding Ren to keep him warm and telling him stories to drive his fear away. Bron carved images from his tales into the tree trunk.
The next day, Bron carried Ren back to their home. The older boy acted strong, but signs of his sickness were already beginning to show. He stumbled more and more often as they neared their house. At one point, he dropped Ren during a fall and lay still for a few minutes before Ren could revive him.
After they arrived, Bron's sickness overcame him and their parents put him to bed. Ren kept a constant vigil over his brother: he only looked away when he had to eat or sleep overcame him. However, Bron's fever soared, and he eventually stopped eating. His determined spirit kept him alive for a month before he passed away.
Ren had spent too many tears on his brother already. He now tried to remember the good times he had had with his brother, the things they had done together, where they had gone, what they had seen. He took some comfort as he remembered his brother's smiling face.
Suddenly, Ren noticed that something was digging into his thigh. He rolled onto his back, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his birthday money, along with the strange stone the old man had given him earlier. He placed the money on the bed next to him, and held the stone up to his face in the murky darkness. He could just barely see its outline and red color, and he held it closer until he could make out the white triangle on one side. He wondered what this curious object could possibly be.
Then he noticed something he hadn't before. On one side, just opposite the white triangle, was a small, triangular indentation in the stone's surface. It still gave him no idea as to the stone's purpose, so he laid it alongside his money and drifted into a restless sleep.
Ren dreamed a strange dream that night. He saw himself with Bron under the oak tree, where they had spent that horrifying night two winters ago. In his dream, he and Bron both disappeared, and the symbols Bron had carved on the tree grew bright. Ren stared at the symbols for a long time, studying the depictions of fantastic creatures and breathtaking landscapes, and they seemed to etch themselves into his memory. Suddenly, a hole opened at the base of the tree, and a light shone out as the dream ended. Next to Ren's sleeping form, the small stone glowed faintly and then dimmed.
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EDIT: One-and-a-half years after writing this, I come back to give it the editing it deserves. I didn't really change it in terms of story, but there should be very few grammar mistakes now.
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