Happy Hallows Eve, everybody… It's what they call Halloween in some places… I have an extra-special horror story for you… It has three parts to it… I hope you like it…

You examined the old, peeling whitewash on the ancient picket fence. It cracked off from the touch of your fingers, and you crushed it to powder like the dust from a forgotten piece of chalk.

You were just a simple young teenager; only thirteen. You had already participated in your league, and had finally gotten the courage to pay a visit to the Old Chateau.

When you had infiltrated the Eterna City Galactic HQ all those months before, you had found the old writings of a depressed man named Pluto. He used to live at this old mansion, Pluto did. Pluto lost his robot toy when he was a child, and after searching for it for many an hour, Rotom jumped out of Pluto's lawnmower. They became friends, Pluto and Rotom did. But they could never share a hug, for Rotom was a ghost. One day, a startled Rotom shocked Pluto into unconsciousness. When the boy woke up, Rotom had entered the old robot toy, and Pluto could finally hug it. Eventually, Pluto left his mansion, as many young men do. Rotom missed his friend so badly that he hid in the television and almost never came out. He only came out to possess Pluto's old appliances, left behind, just like Rotom. This was many years ago, before an unexplainable occurrence made all the other occupants of the chateau disappear.

You knew this.

Yet you decided to venture on Pluto's old property anyway.

You sliced through a wooden sapling that was in the way, kicked it aside, and tripped over the tall grass almost immediately afterwards.

Finally untangling yourself, you burst through the doors of the old chateau, expecting a large hurrah.

Nothing came. It was a haunted house, you lunatic.

Using the move Flash, you lit up the old mansion. You saw a doorway, right in front of you, with a statue next to it. Two stairways on either side of you led up to the second floor, where there were three doorways.

You decided to look in the upper right room first. You found about half a dozen bookcases, all full of a bunch of old books, photo albums, and a trash can. Something told you not to look in the photo albums, but you did anyway. You saw forty-year-old pictures of the young Pluto, when he was about eleven, next to his parents, the butler, and what looked like his little sister.

The picture of the sister jumped out at you. You felt an odd presence in the room, but when you turned around, PokéBall in hand, there was nothing there.

You shrugged it off, and ventured to the room that was on your upper left when you came in.

There was only one bookcase in this room, not counting the random books lying in piles on the floor. You checked the bookcase, and you found old issues of famous magazines, like Pokémon Pal, Pokémon Handbook, and Adorable Pokémon, among others.

Feeling better and more comfortable now, you walked out of the room and into the middle doorway on the upper floor. To your disbelief, you found five more rooms beyond this doorway.

On the far left was a sitting room, with stools, beanbags, a table, and more bookcases. Deciding against looking at them, you moved right one room, to the TV room. The only things in there were a TV and a trash bin.

The static on the TV glowed angrily at you. It felt like lightning, striking odd poses against the crackling thunder and the dark thunderheads. You crept closer, and tapped the screen anxiously.

An orange ball of wide-eyed plasma jumped out, startled. It cleared its eyes and stared at you. You stared back. You were afraid, but you would not let it show. You wanted to prove to this ghost that you were worthy to be here, that you were not the one to eject out the window.

Finally, the Rotom seemed to calm down, and it approached you cautiously. You smiled invitingly, and the Rotom felt safe enough to follow you. However, the Rotom drifted ahead after you left the TV room. You let it, because you knew it lived here, and knew the place far better than you did.

You knew this.

The middle room turned out to be the children's bedroom. There was an old trash bin in the corner, with small bookcases in the two back corners. The two beds in the middle of the room were oddly dusty – it looked like the sheets hadn't been slept in in years.

Which they hadn't.

At least, so you thought.

Rotom led you to the next room. There was one bed in it, with a headstand beside it. This was the room of the parents. You noticed the lone framed picture in the corner of the room.

You saw the red eyes of the robotic picture blink at you.

You stepped up closer to it, and the red eyes disappeared.

You blinked, and squinted carefully at the picture. It seemed familiar, like the character from a video game that you had played years ago.

Then, it clicked. This was the picture of an R.O.B.

You had seen an R.O.B. before. You had played as an R.O.B. on a Wii game at home all those years ago.

"Is that an R.O.B.?" you asked the Rotom, to which the plasma nodded.

Rotom nudged a drawer in the headstand. You opened it, and the sole thing inside was an R.O.B. toy.

It all immediately made sense. Pluto's old toy was of an R.O.B. There was a picture of it in his parents' room. So that meant, in addition to a lawnmower, a refrigerator, a fan, a TV, a toaster, and a washing machine, Rotom could also possess an R.O.B.

You suddenly heard footsteps in the next room. You rushed outside and found yourself face to face with a girl. You recognized her as Pluto's little sister from the photograph.

Taken forty years ago.

Her eyes didn't blink; it felt as if she saw right through your intestines. You screamed in terror, and dashed out of the hallway and down the stairs. You were about to flee the chateau, when you noticed the statue glaring at you. Rotom pleaded you to follow it outside, but the statue looked too interesting for you to notice.

Too bad it didn't really say anything.

Then you realized that you hadn't gone through the last doorway. Half of you wanted to leave with Rotom, and then half of you was too curious to care. You peered inside, and then walked in carefully.

The ghost of the butler floated down the opposite side of the table towards the kitchen. You would have screamed, but Rotom silenced you.

The butler heard you anyway.

He whirled to face you, a sad, painful look in his eyes.

The forks, spoons, knives, and plates began rising from the table.

"No! No!" said the Rotom. "Don't do it!"

But the cutlery paid no heed to Rotom's plead. The knives swiped at you; the forks pin you to the wall, and the spoons whack themselves over your head. You only prayed that they won't hurt your Pokémon…

The possessed R.O.B. looked on sadly as you were served to a nonexistent host of guests.

It knew this.

If only Pluto knew…

Pluto…