oni flygon
:)
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- Bittertown
- Seen Sep 3, 2009
It's been a while and I haven't written a story for months now! Man... such a long time. Anyway, here's a new one-shot from me. Let's just say that it involves a character from Pocket Monsters Special manga. Please do comment and criticize! I appreciate all of the constructive criticism.
The Professor
Light from the rising sun filtered down from the gaps of the blinds, showing the dust floating around the dark room. Wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with books from numerous research and studies, passed down from generation to generation; handwritten ones, printed ones, all old and musty, emitting a stale odor of the wisdom safely tucked away in their yellowed pages.
He sat down on his cushioned chair, with his arthritic hands grasping each other and resting on the desk cluttered with research papers, notes and other documents. He stared at the shadows of the room with his aged green eyes, conveying the exhaustion and the subtle glimmer of experience within them. His thin lips curled in amusement as he tried to remember what important event was supposed to happen today (this was a sort of game that he played with himself since his memory began to deteriorate with age). Ah, yes, he remembered, reminding himself with his dry and raspy voice.
A few seconds passed and three soft taps were heard from the door. His eyes moved away from the darkness and he stared at the old fashioned wooden door. "Yes, come in," he called out weakly, which almost sounded like an agonized whisper.
He heard the doorknob twisting and opening the door. The door creaked open, letting in a small amount of light from the corridor. It started out with a small line of light, but gradually widened as the door was fully open. The professor strained his eyes so that he can get used to the increased amount of light and focused on the figure on the doorway. A girl with a lab coat stepped in, holding a clipboard in one hand and the doorknob with the other. She was a brunette with long hair tied to a ponytail and blue eyes that glittered in the shadows.
"Professor Oak?" she called out, trying to adjust her eyes in the dark room. "Professor, why do you have to shut yourself in such a room?" She moved to where the windows are and opened the blinds, flooding the room with yellow sunlight, which revealed the messiness of the professor's office. Papers strewn all over the floor; books out of their shelves and on a chair over there and dust resting on these books, thick enough to write your name clearly.
The professor looked over at his aide with his exhausted eyes and smiled with his thin, chapped lips. It was a queer smile and his friends often teased this smile as his "turtle smile." But he didn't care. Time can do whatever it wants to you.
His aide smiled back and moved towards him. "Come on now, professor," she whispered as she tried helped him stand up from his ancient chair. "It's time to let the trainers choose their starting Pokémon."
"I can do this by myself, Blue, thank you." The professor smiled eagerly as he raised himself up after his aide let go of him. The professor lifted himself and stood, with his back, a bit hunched, and his knees trembling. He often wondered how his life full of adventure and arduous Pokémon training could come down to this feeble old man. Even when his grandfather was his age now, he was pretty energetic himself.
"Professor, please, it's getting annoying when you call me that," she had a concerned look on her face, which made the professor chuckle.
He smiled that silly turtle smile again as warmth pervaded through his dull green eyes, revitalizing him. "I'm sorry… I was just trying to remember that annoying woman, and you look so much like her."
His aide frowned but then laughed afterwards. "Come on now, professor."
She let the professor go out of the room first and closed the door behind her. Both of them walked along the fluorescent lit corridor, the professor leading his aide slowly and taking his time with his pace. His aching hands were in his lab coat pocket, resting them there. "Are there many of them?" he asked the aide without turning his head.
"Well sir, if you remember, this is your granddaughter's time." She reminded him, glancing at the clipboard to make sure. "It's just her."
"Ah, yes, I knew that." The professor chuckled as he made his way to the room where new trainers should pick their first Pokémon.
His footsteps emitted soft taps, which echoed along the corridor. They reverberated at a slow pace, matching those of the professor's. The aide didn't mind, but she had a look of worry in those meticulous eyes of hers. The professor noticed this when he occasionally looked back, seeing if his aide still followed him. He was wary of this because of his aide's silent footsteps.
"On the right, professor," his aide reminded him, pointing to the door he should be going to.
He stopped at the moment, turned to his aide and smiled, assuring her that he hasn't turned completely senile yet. He twisted doorknob slowly, careful not to cause any more pain to his arthritic hands.
Within the room, his granddaughter sat patiently. She had long blonde hair, tied to a ponytail behind her and brilliant blue eyes, which were determined and yet shy. She looked so much like her grandmother when she was younger. When she saw her grandfather, she smiled and immediately jumped off of her seat and ran to him, yelling "Grandpa!"
Her green and yellow pendant around her neck, which the professor gave to her when she was young, swung from side to side as she rushed to her beloved grandfather to give her a hug. He accepted her with open arms and hugged her tightly. Even the way she embraces was similar to her grandmother.
"Oh, Amy, you've grown up a lot," he laughed in that dry and withered voice of his, holding back tears of nostalgia. "You look so beautiful now, like your grandma!"
"Grandpa you always say that!" Amy giggled as she let go of her grandfather. She helped her grandfather up, who had to kneel in order to embrace her granddaughter.
"Old age softens you up," the professor laughed. "But seeing you start on your own journey makes me feel like I'm starting mine all over again."
Nostalgia flooded his mind as he looked around the same room where many years ago, he chose his first Pokémon. He was an energetic, arrogant, and immature boy. Now, he's just a meek old man, plagued with the hardships of old age. The memories of yesteryear were all but a blurry vision to him now, tucked and forgotten in the deepest recesses of his withering mind. Yet this kind of nostalgia was filling up his empty mind, spilling over the brim of his memories and coming out of him as tears. True, time has always softened the most arrogant and hardened of hearts.
"Grandpa?" Amy gave her grandfather a confused look, quite curious to why tears were streaming down from her grandfather's weary eyes even though he was smiling widely. They rolled down his wrinkled cheeks, following the cracks and crevices caused by old age.
"Oh, I'm just fine, Amy." The professor said in his weathered voice, finally being able to stand. He placed his pained hand on his granddaughter's head. "I'm just happy that you're all grown up now."
The professor looked back at his aide, who was smiling at this picture perfect moment. She probably felt out of picture, but she seemed to understand. She nodded and stepped out of the room, leaving the two alone and continued on with her duties in the lab.
"Now, Amy. Which Pokémon would you like to choose?"
Amy smiled and her eyes lit up with excitement. At the moment, she couldn't seem to make up her mind. "Oh, oh!" she exclaimed, following her grandfather to the table where three Pokéballs lay. "Mommy always told me that you picked a Charmander when you were young… maybe I can choose that! But I want something cute like a Squirtle, but I heard from trainers that a Bulbasaur can help me when I start going to gyms… what would you pick, Grandpa?"
Even though she looked a lot like her grandmother, she acted very differently from her. The professor simply smiled his humorous turtle smile as he showed his granddaughter the three Pokéballs. The red and white spheres shined, reflecting the light from the overhead lights. Through the transparent red half of the Pokéball, Amy stared down in amusement, still being unable to choose. The Pokémon stared back at her with their curious gaze, waiting for the trainer to choose one of them.
"Take your time," her grandfather beamed, showing his white teeth, which seem to be the only part of him that hasn't deteriorated yet.
He ceased to slouch and his knees stopped trembling. He stood erect with his hands on his pockets as he let his granddaughter take his time with choosing. He felt as if he was like his grandfather, who always stood straight in front of everyone else and showed how strong he is, physically, despite his old age. Maybe his grandfather was like this—a feeble old man in his office, but an energetic professor around trainers… and loved ones.
"Dad?" His daughter's voice rang inside his head. "Dad, are you even listening to me?"
He held the receiver close to his ear and was just remembering to what happened a couple hours ago. He licked his chapped lips and replied slowly in his weathered, raspy voice, "I hear you, Sarah."
"Dad, I'm just so worried about her," she was talking about Amy, her only daughter. "I just don't know what to do now and I'm beginning to regret that I've sent her to this journey…"
The professor imagined his daughter, anxious and frustrated (like she always has been) as she half screamed over the receiver of her phone.
"Don't worry, I asked Amy to call you every night." The professor chuckled, scratching his thin silver hair. "As if your mother and I weren't as worried as you when you started out on your own."
Sarah was silent on the other end, but the professor retained his smile. It was after a few seconds when she assured herself. "Yeah, you're right, Dad… but she promised to call, right?"
"Yes, she promised." The professor nodded as if he was talking to her, face to face. "Don't worry; she's going to miss you, too. She won't forget."
Sarah paused and sniffed. She was crying on the other end and she apologized with sobs and sighs. The professor assured her again and told her that there's no need to apologize. After all, it's pretty rare that he gets phone calls from his daughter ever since his wife died, so he was quite happy that she called.
In the silence of his office, despite the occasional sniffs and sobs from the receiver, the untidy mess on the floor, the dust that floated around and settling on the desk, the books, the disorder of the shelves, Professor Green Oak felt at peace. All his physical pains were numb for a while because of the happiness that filled his heart. And somehow, he felt young again. If only time could go back, just so that he could see those familiar faces of his beloved friends and especially, his wife whose endearing smile remained in his mind. If only he could go out into that world again, that world where adventures waited to pounce any unwilling travelers and mysteries dared trainers to solve them.
He's sure that his granddaughter will face the same hardships that he had when he was young. She'll find a rival, befriend many other trainers, and she will succeed. He can see it in her eyes.
Owari
The Professor
Light from the rising sun filtered down from the gaps of the blinds, showing the dust floating around the dark room. Wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with books from numerous research and studies, passed down from generation to generation; handwritten ones, printed ones, all old and musty, emitting a stale odor of the wisdom safely tucked away in their yellowed pages.
He sat down on his cushioned chair, with his arthritic hands grasping each other and resting on the desk cluttered with research papers, notes and other documents. He stared at the shadows of the room with his aged green eyes, conveying the exhaustion and the subtle glimmer of experience within them. His thin lips curled in amusement as he tried to remember what important event was supposed to happen today (this was a sort of game that he played with himself since his memory began to deteriorate with age). Ah, yes, he remembered, reminding himself with his dry and raspy voice.
A few seconds passed and three soft taps were heard from the door. His eyes moved away from the darkness and he stared at the old fashioned wooden door. "Yes, come in," he called out weakly, which almost sounded like an agonized whisper.
He heard the doorknob twisting and opening the door. The door creaked open, letting in a small amount of light from the corridor. It started out with a small line of light, but gradually widened as the door was fully open. The professor strained his eyes so that he can get used to the increased amount of light and focused on the figure on the doorway. A girl with a lab coat stepped in, holding a clipboard in one hand and the doorknob with the other. She was a brunette with long hair tied to a ponytail and blue eyes that glittered in the shadows.
"Professor Oak?" she called out, trying to adjust her eyes in the dark room. "Professor, why do you have to shut yourself in such a room?" She moved to where the windows are and opened the blinds, flooding the room with yellow sunlight, which revealed the messiness of the professor's office. Papers strewn all over the floor; books out of their shelves and on a chair over there and dust resting on these books, thick enough to write your name clearly.
The professor looked over at his aide with his exhausted eyes and smiled with his thin, chapped lips. It was a queer smile and his friends often teased this smile as his "turtle smile." But he didn't care. Time can do whatever it wants to you.
His aide smiled back and moved towards him. "Come on now, professor," she whispered as she tried helped him stand up from his ancient chair. "It's time to let the trainers choose their starting Pokémon."
"I can do this by myself, Blue, thank you." The professor smiled eagerly as he raised himself up after his aide let go of him. The professor lifted himself and stood, with his back, a bit hunched, and his knees trembling. He often wondered how his life full of adventure and arduous Pokémon training could come down to this feeble old man. Even when his grandfather was his age now, he was pretty energetic himself.
"Professor, please, it's getting annoying when you call me that," she had a concerned look on her face, which made the professor chuckle.
He smiled that silly turtle smile again as warmth pervaded through his dull green eyes, revitalizing him. "I'm sorry… I was just trying to remember that annoying woman, and you look so much like her."
His aide frowned but then laughed afterwards. "Come on now, professor."
She let the professor go out of the room first and closed the door behind her. Both of them walked along the fluorescent lit corridor, the professor leading his aide slowly and taking his time with his pace. His aching hands were in his lab coat pocket, resting them there. "Are there many of them?" he asked the aide without turning his head.
"Well sir, if you remember, this is your granddaughter's time." She reminded him, glancing at the clipboard to make sure. "It's just her."
"Ah, yes, I knew that." The professor chuckled as he made his way to the room where new trainers should pick their first Pokémon.
His footsteps emitted soft taps, which echoed along the corridor. They reverberated at a slow pace, matching those of the professor's. The aide didn't mind, but she had a look of worry in those meticulous eyes of hers. The professor noticed this when he occasionally looked back, seeing if his aide still followed him. He was wary of this because of his aide's silent footsteps.
"On the right, professor," his aide reminded him, pointing to the door he should be going to.
He stopped at the moment, turned to his aide and smiled, assuring her that he hasn't turned completely senile yet. He twisted doorknob slowly, careful not to cause any more pain to his arthritic hands.
Within the room, his granddaughter sat patiently. She had long blonde hair, tied to a ponytail behind her and brilliant blue eyes, which were determined and yet shy. She looked so much like her grandmother when she was younger. When she saw her grandfather, she smiled and immediately jumped off of her seat and ran to him, yelling "Grandpa!"
Her green and yellow pendant around her neck, which the professor gave to her when she was young, swung from side to side as she rushed to her beloved grandfather to give her a hug. He accepted her with open arms and hugged her tightly. Even the way she embraces was similar to her grandmother.
"Oh, Amy, you've grown up a lot," he laughed in that dry and withered voice of his, holding back tears of nostalgia. "You look so beautiful now, like your grandma!"
"Grandpa you always say that!" Amy giggled as she let go of her grandfather. She helped her grandfather up, who had to kneel in order to embrace her granddaughter.
"Old age softens you up," the professor laughed. "But seeing you start on your own journey makes me feel like I'm starting mine all over again."
Nostalgia flooded his mind as he looked around the same room where many years ago, he chose his first Pokémon. He was an energetic, arrogant, and immature boy. Now, he's just a meek old man, plagued with the hardships of old age. The memories of yesteryear were all but a blurry vision to him now, tucked and forgotten in the deepest recesses of his withering mind. Yet this kind of nostalgia was filling up his empty mind, spilling over the brim of his memories and coming out of him as tears. True, time has always softened the most arrogant and hardened of hearts.
"Grandpa?" Amy gave her grandfather a confused look, quite curious to why tears were streaming down from her grandfather's weary eyes even though he was smiling widely. They rolled down his wrinkled cheeks, following the cracks and crevices caused by old age.
"Oh, I'm just fine, Amy." The professor said in his weathered voice, finally being able to stand. He placed his pained hand on his granddaughter's head. "I'm just happy that you're all grown up now."
The professor looked back at his aide, who was smiling at this picture perfect moment. She probably felt out of picture, but she seemed to understand. She nodded and stepped out of the room, leaving the two alone and continued on with her duties in the lab.
"Now, Amy. Which Pokémon would you like to choose?"
Amy smiled and her eyes lit up with excitement. At the moment, she couldn't seem to make up her mind. "Oh, oh!" she exclaimed, following her grandfather to the table where three Pokéballs lay. "Mommy always told me that you picked a Charmander when you were young… maybe I can choose that! But I want something cute like a Squirtle, but I heard from trainers that a Bulbasaur can help me when I start going to gyms… what would you pick, Grandpa?"
Even though she looked a lot like her grandmother, she acted very differently from her. The professor simply smiled his humorous turtle smile as he showed his granddaughter the three Pokéballs. The red and white spheres shined, reflecting the light from the overhead lights. Through the transparent red half of the Pokéball, Amy stared down in amusement, still being unable to choose. The Pokémon stared back at her with their curious gaze, waiting for the trainer to choose one of them.
"Take your time," her grandfather beamed, showing his white teeth, which seem to be the only part of him that hasn't deteriorated yet.
He ceased to slouch and his knees stopped trembling. He stood erect with his hands on his pockets as he let his granddaughter take his time with choosing. He felt as if he was like his grandfather, who always stood straight in front of everyone else and showed how strong he is, physically, despite his old age. Maybe his grandfather was like this—a feeble old man in his office, but an energetic professor around trainers… and loved ones.
~*~*~*~
"Dad?" His daughter's voice rang inside his head. "Dad, are you even listening to me?"
He held the receiver close to his ear and was just remembering to what happened a couple hours ago. He licked his chapped lips and replied slowly in his weathered, raspy voice, "I hear you, Sarah."
"Dad, I'm just so worried about her," she was talking about Amy, her only daughter. "I just don't know what to do now and I'm beginning to regret that I've sent her to this journey…"
The professor imagined his daughter, anxious and frustrated (like she always has been) as she half screamed over the receiver of her phone.
"Don't worry, I asked Amy to call you every night." The professor chuckled, scratching his thin silver hair. "As if your mother and I weren't as worried as you when you started out on your own."
Sarah was silent on the other end, but the professor retained his smile. It was after a few seconds when she assured herself. "Yeah, you're right, Dad… but she promised to call, right?"
"Yes, she promised." The professor nodded as if he was talking to her, face to face. "Don't worry; she's going to miss you, too. She won't forget."
Sarah paused and sniffed. She was crying on the other end and she apologized with sobs and sighs. The professor assured her again and told her that there's no need to apologize. After all, it's pretty rare that he gets phone calls from his daughter ever since his wife died, so he was quite happy that she called.
In the silence of his office, despite the occasional sniffs and sobs from the receiver, the untidy mess on the floor, the dust that floated around and settling on the desk, the books, the disorder of the shelves, Professor Green Oak felt at peace. All his physical pains were numb for a while because of the happiness that filled his heart. And somehow, he felt young again. If only time could go back, just so that he could see those familiar faces of his beloved friends and especially, his wife whose endearing smile remained in his mind. If only he could go out into that world again, that world where adventures waited to pounce any unwilling travelers and mysteries dared trainers to solve them.
He's sure that his granddaughter will face the same hardships that he had when he was young. She'll find a rival, befriend many other trainers, and she will succeed. He can see it in her eyes.
Owari
