A/N: Wow, I haven't wrote a fanfic in a looooooooong time. But I decided to delve into the world of Pokemon, which I've loved through the years. I hope you enjoy, and sorry if it sucks, I'm a bit rusty.
Forgotten Statues
By LongAgo13
I remember the day so clearly. I remember being stuck in the device that the humans called a Pokeball. I hated being trapped in this stupid thing. It simulated a location (this one being a large forest), but everything was so fake, so manufactured that even if it did look beautiful, I couldn't appreciate it knowing it was all a lie.
Today was the day. The man, my owner…hmm, give me a second…oh yes! Rowan was his name. Rowan had told me, a Chimchar and a Turtwig that today was the day we would all be given away to three children as starters on a great and vast journey, battling and making friends.
To Chimchar, the whole idea sounded stupid. She was quite angry about all of this, she felt as though she was being sold off in an auction against her will like some kind of object to used by whoever wanted to use it. I felt terrible for the poor soul who picked her up, hoping for an incredible journey with a great new friend when all they would get was an agonizing month after month of torture and burn scars.
Turtwig was very, very nervous. He blabbered on and on about all the possibilities of something bad happening on his future trek. "What if we're attacked by some sort of Super Pokemon?" "What if my new partner is mean to me?" "What if me and my partner get separated?" "What if the sky falls?" Seriously, I wanted to peck his little head off, but I restrained myself (just barely though).
Other than Chimchar and Turtwig, I was so excited. The idea of going around a great big region, meeting new Pokemon, seeing new sights, getting stronger, evolving. All this enthralled me, and I was practically bouncing off the fake trees of my Pokeball.
We were let out of our Pokeball's on the big day, so the kids could examine closely which one they wanted to take. One kid in a seriously wannabe biker outfit came in, putting shades on as he inspected us (how darkening your vision helps you inspect, I'll never know). He chose Chimchar, naming her Chimby. Oh yes, he was going to get burned before they reached the next town.
A few minutes later, a bubbly blonde bounced in, squealing like a little girl about her first Pokemon. She thought I was cute, but absolutely adored Turtwig. As she held him close to her body hugging and kissing him, he looked like all his troubles were over. Good for him. So Rowan sent the blonde and the newly christened "Jack" on their way.
So now I was the only one left, and I waited, anticipated to find out who my new partner would be. He came in a few minutes after Blondie and Jack-Turtwig. He was very dorky looking. A funny looking red hat, a lame looking scarf wrapped around his neck, jeans and some sort of black shirt completed the look of total nerd.
"Hello, are you Professor Rowan?" the boy asked Rowan.
The old man nodded. "Yes, I am Professor Rowan. And you must be here for your Pokemon starter, am I correct?"
"Yeah," the boy nods his head.
"Very well," Rowan said, leading him over to the table where I sat. "By the way, what is your name again?"
"Savage. Savage Nichols."
"Well then Savage, I'm afraid that two of the Sinnoh starters have already been taken by others. But nonetheless, we still have this Piplup, he's very excited about this journey. Would you be willing to take him?"
I looked up at Savage expectantly. I could see the look in his eyes. The look of disappointment. That feeling when you're hoping you get a certain something, but you get something totally different. Something you didn't want. And I knew that this was going to suck. Having a trainer who doesn't appreciate you is probably terrible.
But then again, neither of us had a choice. He needed a Pokemon, and I needed a trainer.
"I'll take him."
So, we were off. An exciting journey awaited us. I had been promised new friends, fierce battles, and a bond with my partner that could never be broken. Whoever said it happened like that is a fucking idiot.
"Ugh," Savage sighed exasperatingly, "a stupid Piplup. I wanted a Chimchar, an awesome fire monkey, and I get a stupid looking penguin. Great, just great."
I stared up at him. Was he serious? Did he have to be this mean just because he didn't get his damned precious Chimchar that would've fried his ass anyways? I pecked his leg a bunch of times, hoping I'd inflict some pain. I did.
"Ouch!" Savage cried, reaching down and grabbing his pecked upon ankle. "Damn it! That's it, I'll just catch a Starly or something." He reached in his pocket and pulled out my Pokeball. He clicked the button and I was sucked inside by the little red beam of light. Back to the fake forest.
I wasn't inside the Pokeball for long though. This odd sensation washed over me, as if I was being transported from the ball somewhere else. And then I realized, I was being transferred into the PC box system.
I suddenly felt cold. Gone was the warmth from the fake forest I had grown so accustomed to. And it wasn't the kind of cold that was normal for Sinnoh's forecast. It was that spine tingling chill you got when you touched a piece of cold of metal. That kind of feeling. And the feeling felt so foreign to me, and I was scared.
I felt stuck to the spot as well. I could not move my wings in any which way. I tried to jump, to move my feet, to click my beak together. Nothing. I was completely immobile. So there I stood. Waiting, scared and lonely.
Tears flowed from my eyes as I came to the realization that Savage didn't want me. And if he didn't want me, there's a good chance he'll never return for me. I could be stuck here, forever. Forever, in a pitch black landscape, away from every one, an eternal chill skipping its way through my spine as I stand as still as a statue.
A few days later, a Bidoof appears next to me. I'm startled, but not visibly, being immobile and all. I wanted to jump for joy. Finally, someone to talk to, to make jokes with, to be friends with. But I realize, I can't move my lips. He can't move his either. There's no way for either of us to speak. So, we stand, doing nothing, like the forgotten statues we are.
More and more Pokemon were added to the boxes, soon making the box seem like a little silent statue garden. Shinx sat around in the dark atmosphere, a perpetual smile plastered to their faces. A snarling Mightyena stood at the ready for a fierce battle that was never going to continue. A Noctowl stood with its wings spread out, looking as if it was preparing a Hypnosis attack that would never reach its intended target. All of this was so sad, seeing these Pokemon.
These statue Pokemon. I thought about them, their pasts. What if they had a family? Did that Numel over there have a worried mother and father waiting for him somewhere? That Pikachu looks as though it was pretty angry. Was it angry because it was taken away by friends?
I inwardly chuckled. Friends. Ha! Statues don't have friends. Statues don't have family. They have a creator. They have someone who took the time to take a big rock, and chisel it down into these statues for all to see. Is that what Savage is? The creator? By catching all of these Pokemon, and storing them away in boxes, was he the artist that took his time sculpting these living creatures into art pieces? No this wasn't art. I knew it wasn't art. Art is something to be celebrated, something to be remembered in the eyes of the people. Nobody would celebrate this. Nobody would remember us.
We were just the forgotten statues.
A/N: So there you have it, my return to fan fiction with an angsty Pokemon story about the abuse done to Pokemon in boxes. Lovely isn't it? Please review, I want to know if I wrote this well, and it'd be a big help if you reviewed. Thank you.
And remember, always take care of the Pokemon in your boxes (goes to abuse a Bidoof in his box in Platinum).