Chance: Here is the first chapter of the rewrite. It's practically the same as the first one... Sort of. It's third person and thoughts are in italics. Not all of the thoughts are in italics though. The emphasized words are also in italics. Tell me if you don't like it. I can change it to bold for the other chapters. So enjoy! Hopefully...

Disclaimer: I don't own pokemon, and this goes for the rest of the chapters for this story. This is the ONLY disclaimer I will be putting because they are really annoying to put in EVERY SINGLE chapter.

Prologue

"What's your name?"

"...Ash Ketchum"

"Okay, and tell me what you saw at the scene of the crime."

"I've told you a thousand times already! I came back after I heard a scream and they were all dead! Just let me go home already! "

"Fine..." the silhouette grumbled.

He got up and left the dark room, sullen. It's already been 3 years since then. Why won't they just stop bugging me? Why are they still trying to solve the case? Most of the time the police would just close the case after a while, but they haven't yet and they're still questioning me. Why? Is there something I'm missing? Something they're hiding? The young man let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose in thought. He drifted off into a dreamy state, all of the horrifying memories replaying in his head once again.

/Flashback/

It was midsummer. The pidgeys were chirping and the wind blowing, making the hot temperature bearable. It was peaceful. So peaceful that it was almost impossible to imagine what was approaching.

There was a boy laying under a tree half asleep as the sun was setting indolently, with a Pikachu resting on his lap. It was so serene.

"Ash, do something useful besides lying around on your butt all day, you lazy bum!" A loud red headed girl yelled from a picnic table.

"Well I don't see you doing anything, Misty." He shot back, grouchy from not getting the sleep he so desired.

"Grrr...Just go get some water so Brock can make dinner!" The girl bellowed furiously.

"Okay, okay! Jeez..." The boy grumbled, as he got to his feet, patting himself off. He mumbled grumpy unheard words about the girl and looked down at his furry yellow friend.

"Wanna come with me Pikachu?" He cooed, smiling warmly at his beloved pokemon.

"Pika!" Pikachu had squealed in agreement.

"You hurry back, Ash Ketchum! Be back before it gets dark! And don't you dare forget the water!" She called after them angrily, throwing a bucket to them to hold the water.

The boy and the little pokemon walked away from the campsite to the nearest river, taking in every bit of the forest and all it's glorious scenery. The leaves so new and green and the fresh air the boy was had become accustomed to. Flowers blossoming and wild pokemon enjoying the forest just as much as they were. It was all so beautiful, all so perfect.

The boy stepped over to the edge of the river and he leaned down to fill the bucket with it's crystal clear water. He stopped to admire the beauty of the sinking sun glistening off the surface of the water. The red cheeked pokemon had decided it would be a brilliant idea to jump into the water, which caused a big splash, soaking the boy.

"Pi." Pikachu snickered.

"Oh, that's it!"

The boy jumped in the water after his little friend and began splashing pikachu. Pikachu, in turn, began to splash back, having a wonderful time. In the middle of their water fun they heard a blood curdling scream, that sent shivers down the boy's spine.

That's Misty! Is all that ran through his mind over and over in the few minutes it took to get back to the campsite. He tumbled and tripped over branches as the sun finally disappeared over the horizon. As he ran, his mind raced through all the horrifying situations his friends could possibly been in. He was panicking...

"Misty! Brock!" The boy yelled at the top of his lungs...there wasn't an answer. All he could hear was the crunching of the twigs and grass they were stomping on, as they ran as fast as their legs could take them. He called out his friends' names repeatedly, only to continue to not get an answer.

Within the time it took them to arrive to the campsite it was already pitch black out. The boy came only to see their tents on fire and a oval-like figure hanging above the campfire. The figure was moving wildly, thrashing about like a caged animal, and as he approached it, to get a better look at what exactly the figure was, it suddenly fell into the fire. All that was heard was the muffled, helpless screams coming from inside of the figure, which he had then realized was a sleeping bag.

The boy quickly snapped out of his semi-shocked state as he then realized the situation and rushed to pull the sleeping bag out of the fire. He hesitated for a moment to open the sizzling bag before him. His hazel eyes had widened in horror right then and he trembled at the sight of the corpse of his dear friend...Misty. Her skin was bloody and burned, with her ears, hands, and feet hacked off. He didn't even bother to check her pulse. It was obvious the girl was dead.

Why? was all that his mind could muster. Then it hit him, Wait! Where's Brock!

He scrambled to his feet and called out his other friend's name as loud as he could, "Brock! BROC-!" His voiced cracked and he began to cough uncontrollably, his throat was already very sore with the previous screaming he had been doing and yelling again just made it worse. It sounded like he was the one dying.

He figured instead of sitting around waiting for his friend to come to him, he would go and find the other himself. What if he's hurt, too...? He ran around the camp, only to find Misty's psyduck and poliwhirl dead. Poliwhirl had a dagger protruding out of the center of the spiral on it's stomach. While the psyduck had it's beak chopped off along with its stomach gashed open with it's guts spilling out.

The boy gagged at the gruesome sight before him and stumbled over to the tree he had been relaxing on earlier that day. He held his hand to his mouth, trying to hold back his breakfast. He leaned against the tree and he could feel the tears form in his eyes, blurring his vision. He blinked and the tears began to stream down his cheeks uncontrollably. Then, amidst his heartwrenching sobbing he felt a drip land on his shoulder. Rain?

No. The boy wasn't that lucky.

He looked up, praying that what he was about to see was merely rain, but instead he found the morbid sight of Brock's body torn up in a heap of flesh and blood. Bones jutted out of his dangling limbs and his eyes had been ripped out, leaving nothing but bloody holes in his head. His intestines hung from various branches, decorating the tree like Christmas lights. There was blood everywhere.

The boys' eyes widened and a swirl of emotion raced through every inch of his body. Terror and sadness took over and a stray tear slipped down his cheek, as he stared in horror at the mortifying sight. His face had paled and he felt like puking, but all he could do was stand there.

Then the boy screamed and screamed, cupping his hands to the side of his head, hoping it was all a dream. But what he had just witnessed was by no means a dream...

/Flashback End/

Chance: There is the rewrite of Chapter 1. I hope you enjoyed it. :