I am an eevee. Nothing special, just a plain old eevee. I don't have any unique markings, or any special moves. I'm just another run-of-the-mill eevee.

I may not be peculiar, but my trainer is. He understands pokémon. He knows what we mean while others just hear our name. I am his only pokemon, and he has no intention of having any others.

But lately, his tone has been changing. When he is with his friends, he sometimes forgets about me. With others around, he acts like I don't exist. I am growing apart from him. He seems like he just doesn't want me anymore. As I lie down, I have a horrible thought: What if he just gets rid of me?

I awaken. In a dark, cold room. The blackness is overwhelming; I cannot see my own paws. I start to stagger around, looking for some source of light. I find a bump on the wall. I rub against it until a dim light fills the room. As I scan the area, I suddenly am stricken with fear and sickness.

All around me lay the bodies of my fellow Pokémon. They were beyond dead: There bodies are mangled and twisted into impossible forms. Weapons of torture scatter the chamber. Blood cakes the walls. I look down at my feet and see a quartered vulpix. I suddenly feel weak, and convulse.

How could this happen? What would make people hate pokémon so? We are not threatening to humans; we do not fight people. I am jolted out of my thoughts by the sound of approaching footsteps. I realize I am in a room of deceased pokémon: And I am the only one left alive.

A dark figure enters the room. It speaks not a word. It is holding a double-edged sword. I shrink in the corner, next to a wingless taillow. The figure notices the movement. It draws closer…

closer…

closer…

It brings its hand back, ready to thrust the saber.

I awake with a start. My fur is matted in sweat. My heart is beating faster than I thought possible. I glance around the room, half expecting to see a dark shape impaling me. All I see is my trainer, lying down with his eyes closed. I nuzzle my head into his chest. He opens his eyes and looks at me with concern. He asks me what's wrong. I don't answer. He looks hurt. Angry at myself, I tell him everything. About how I think we're growing apart, and the dream I had.

When I finish, I look at him, guilt apparent on my face. I see tears in his eyes. He pulls me close and kisses my forehead. He tells me he will always keep me close. I start to cry. I cuddle closer to him. I was a fool to think he'd leave me.

The rest of the night, I sleep soundly.

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WOW! It's hard to write in present tense! R&R. Flames will be used in satanic rituals.