Hello everyone! Welcome to my first story. I do so hope you enjoy it. Also if you would be so kind as to leave your opinion of my little tail after you read it I would be most appreciative. Even if you hated it so much you vomited please let me know what you think. So, now, on with the show!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for a new copy of Pokemon Battle Revolution. I think I've given Nintendo enough of my money for them to cut me a little slack hear.

First let me point out that I hate cliches. Tremendously so even. There is no originality left in the world and I hate it. Even at the young age of 17 it seems like I hade seen everything there was to see and heard everything there was to be heard. But then again we would all like to be part of something big wouldn't we? Like something out of a big Hollywood movie, or a dramatic on stage performance. But things like that only happen to a very few people who already exist under the most stupendous circumstances. Like that Ketchum fellow. It doesn't seem like he could lead a normal life if he tried. Personally I feel kinda bad for him but whatever, to each his own. All that being said I was sitting at my computer one dark and stormy evening. I was in a very pleasant mood because I enjoy darkness, rain, and my computer so I couldn't really complain about anything (which I have a bad habit of doing). It was one of those wonderful moments when the city was quiet and all you could hear was the rain, and the thunder and the...

tap

tap

tap

And the tap, tap, tap? That's not right. I also hate it when things interrupt my train of thought. Normally I would have ignored it but then it happened again, in the same spot it happened before, which sounded like it was right outside my back door. My parents were gone for the weekend on some business something or other so they wouldn't get it...damnit. So I rose from my chair my tall rather skinny frame wobbling a bit from the ensuing head rush. I shook it off and moved on. My house is nothing glamorous. We are not rich but by no means poor. We have nice things but prefer out nice cozy small house to a large one. There are only three people in my family. Me my mom and dad. Yes before you ask it or think it it does get lonely around here for me but im used to it and it doesn't really bother me much anymore. I turned the corner and hit my leg on the corner of a counter we just had put in.

"Damn" I mumble to no one in particular.

Moving on I finally make it to the back door (why did that seem to take so long?). I hear a few more taps and wonder if I should open it. What if it's a trap? There have been a pack of particularly aggressive Houndooms terrorizing the locals as of late. No, they wouldn't come out in the rain. And plus what would they do with me? Its not like they are smart enough to capture me and hold me for ransom. Or something elaborate like that. And there is probably was easier food around there than me (not much meat on my bones anyways). My apologies by the way, I have a tenancy to ramble and let my imagination wander, and then be overly logical about things. Needless to say im not very good at quick decisions.

So as I was saying before, I stood looking at my door listening to the increasingly infrequent taps for a good 4 minuets. And I could fill up three books with all the rediculous thoughts that flew through my mind of capture and murder and me saving the day. Finally in my moment of clarity I muttered

"What the hell am I doing" (once again to no one in particular) and opened the door.

I looked down and saw a rather beat up looking Ralts lying face down on the concert that created the walkway to the back of my house. This presented me with a problem. What should I do here? I would like to think im not heartless but at the same time what if it was diseased? Or violent? What should I do? Realistically it looks to be dying if I just let it lie there for a few hours and then moved it out into the woods behind my house no one would know of my negligence. But do I want that on my conscious? It was a tt his point that I looked down and noticed it was looking up back at me. Right in the eyes. Oh hell...now there is no way I can let it just lie here and die. It has some of the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. Truly, and I look at a lot of eyes. Its always what I notice about people. So needless to say I was compelled at this point to save the poor creature. I picked up its small frail body and carried it into my home making the long arduous journey back to me room coming up with a million reasons a minuet why this was not a good idea. Even still my parents would be gone for about a week yet and I guess it wouldn't kill me to help out a little...its not like I really do anything to help anyone out on a consistent basis anyways.

Pokemon were not my speciality. I had a normal childhood, wishing and waiting for the day when I could receive my first Pokemon. I had it all planned out, I was going to pick a Squrtle and eventually become the best trainer on the face of the earth. Then reality struck. It never struck me how far away I would have to be from home. My nice sheltered, protected, nothing ever goes wrong home. And then there was the problem with my trainers licence. The Pokedex I was given did not function right and I had to wait 3 weeks for repairs and whatnot. Then there was going to pallet town to start my journey. It was a simple one day trip, but I got homesick after 6 hours in the car. And then there was it...that damned thing. That infernal creature that ruined over 2 years of my life. My starter Pokemon...my Squrtle. Oooooohohohoho, if only you could have seen it. I eagerly grabbed the Pokeball from Prof. Oak, threw it, and out came the most magnificent thing my 10 year old eyes had ever gazed upon. It seemed so perfect, and he was mine, we were friends...or we were supposed to be. We were supposed to be partners, allies, comrades, and stick it out through thick and thin. To be there for each other and to become strong together. So as I run up to give my new friend a hun...boom a scratch right in the face, then before anyone could react a headbutt to the ribs. I don't know that was the primary reason I passed out, the pain of three broken ribs, or the sight of my dreams literally coming crashing down on me. For the next two years I was terrified of Pokemon. I wanted nothing to do with them. Now obviously based on what I have told you of my story thus far I have gotten over that fear, although I never did go back and get my starter. Im still a licenced trainer...but now-a-days my 'dex just sits around gathering dust. I always tell myself that this year is the year, and that's why I keep renewing the damn thing, but its always one more year away...

So back to the present. Im finally back in my room and I lay the Ralts down on my bed and dash to the bathroom to find the emergence Pokemon medical kit I got over two years ago right before another one of my failed adventure attempts. (Pays to be a pack rat sometimes). When I arrive back in my room with the various sprays and ointments in hand Ralts is lying motionless on my bed.

"Ohgodohgodohgod" I mutter to myself praying I don't have a dead Pokemon lieing in my bed. I bend down close and listen. Thankfully I hear a heartbeat, albeit a small one, its just passed out. "Good" I think so myself now I can examen its body and figure out jsut how badly its hurt. This is the part where (like in every story...fucking cliches) that things go from bad to worse, or in my case I realize just how bad things are. I will spare you the gruesome details of my exam but I was able to ascertain some pretty obvious evidence as to what happened. Firstly it was a girl. I had kinda assumed that it was but it was confermed when I saw her...lady parts were red and inflamed, as well as...ahhh you probably didn't want to hear this but It was bad...and highly unlikely done willingly. The bruises on her arms told me she had been held down. Those bastered Houndoom. No major bodily injury that I could see (it would later dawn on my just how dumb it was that I didn't take her to the Pokecenter, she could have been bleeding internally or something). The most sever damage was emotional for sure. But how could I help? Its not like I could speak Pokemon or anything...

Thank you

"What the hell?" I said outloud to the voice I heard in my head. Then I felt something touch my hand. It was Ralts.

Thank you for...saving...me...

"What!? Its talking to me...in my mind?!" I thought to myself. I mean I know Ralts is a psychic type but how?...Then I realized as odd as it was, she was talking to me and it would be rude to not respond.

"Ummm...don't worry about anything, ok? You are going to be just fine. Don't be scared." Im not the best at comforting people but what I said must have worked because a very very small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she passed out again.

Dear god what have I gotten myself into with this one...oh well...at least she didn't break my ribs...

Hey so thanks for reading! This is my first story and I don't know if I want to continue it or not. If you wouldn't mind leaving a review just to let me know if my writing style is brilliant or rubbish. Kthanks talk to ya soon hopefully.