Author's Note: This is...a different kind of story. A deviant from my norm. There isn't any shipping in this one; it's merely all about Gary. Enjoy the thrills and chills...
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warnings: Horror, gore
Monsters of the Past
A Wonnykins Production
Gary Oak still has nightmares.
They come to him when he least expects it; when he's had an otherwise wonderful day, or perhaps when he has tons of other things on his mind. His moods can range from happy to sad to angry and the nightmares still come.
No matter how different each time is, he always wakes up in a cold sweat. He used to scream, but he doesn't, anymore. That's not a very manly thing to do, at fifteen. But he'll allow himself to pant, sweat, and shake for five minutes before trying to force himself back into a sleep.
No matter how hard he tries, he cannot outrun the figure that keeps tailing him. How long had it been following him? When would it stop?
Once, when he turned fourteen, he told his grandfather about the nightmares, about how he still had them. The professor had patted his back and told him that he must still be coping with the untimely death of his parents. After all, they had both been killed by a train. Gary had seen it. The professor then ended the conversation and went on to other things.
And Gary wished that he could tell him the truth.
When he was only six years old, Gary still lived with his mother and father. They lived in a huge house in the middle of Viridian Forest. He'd been a happy child, always playing with his sister outside, near the tree-line. His parents never seemed to worry.
He'd began to feel the presence two months before his world flipped upside down.
It was a dark presence; something alive and wet and horridly warm. Something that probably shouldn't have been alive. He first felt it when he was at the tree-line, one day, and almost felt a gaze upon himself. He became so frightened by it that he ran inside like hell was on his heels.
The night that followed would be no better.
All night, he stared at the forest outside of his window, eyes wide and staring. He didn't hear the slow creaking until the presence was so sickenly powerful that he could almost smell it; a smell of something dead and diseased.
'Little boy, little boy.'
A sinister, creeping voice, rough like sandpaper.
'Why did you run, little boy?'
He'd been frozen in fear as he felt...it...breath on his neck.
'I only want to play, little boy.'
A scream had been welling up in his throat.
'Little boy, don't you want to play, too?'
His parents came running as soon as he unleashed his scream, and, of course, they found nothing when they turned on the lights. He slept with his sister through the night, though, although he could have sworn that he heard the sand-paper-like laugh of...whatever that horrid thing had been.
This went on for a month before he saw the creature itself.
By that point, his parents were fed up with his supposed cry for attention, and refused to aid him when he cried for them. This seemed to amuse the creature, who took pleasure in rubbing it into his face each night. It taunted and teased and tormented Gary all night, and the boy would never sleep.
His mother had taken him out into the yard for some fresh air and had left, briefly, when the creature revealed itself.
It was most certainly diseased; it buzzed with flies and reeked of things long dead. Its tongue was too big for its jaws and it lolled out in a crazy fashion. Its eyes were blood-red with madness, and it looked at the small Gary Oak with a sick, twisted smile.
'Little boy, little boy. Did you come to play?'
It didn't open its mouth, but he knew that that was what it was saying. Afraid to call anyone out to offer him some protection, he only stared out of disgust and morbid fascination at this thing that was apparently still alive.
There had been a scream; his mother called for his father.
"It's rabid! Kill it, Richard, kill it!"
But the beast had turned and disappeared into the trees. His mother fell to his side and grabbed him, nearly tripping in her rush to get him inside.
His sister had asked what rabid meant, that evening. His father had told her that it meant that something was 'very sick', and that it slowly lost control of itself. It became dangerous and could make someone ill if it bit them. My mother watched Gary throughout dinner, but he wouldn't eat. Eventually, they sent him to bed.
No matter how often his father stood outside with a gun ready, the beast only returned when they least expected it.
Then, for two weeks, it didn't show itself. It hadn't 'talked' to Gary at night for this long, either. The family felt it was safe to go outside and celebrate the spring, and they had a picnic.
His father had held him up high. The boy had laughed, and for the moment, they forgot all about the beast.
And that was precisely when it pounced on his sister.
His mother had screamed, beating the stinking, rotten thing as it tore at the girl, turning her into a pulpy mass of blood and flesh. She had screamed while she'd been torn apart, and then had fallen silent. The monster glared at his mother with its soulless red eyes and advanced slowly on her, a piece of his sister's tattered dress in its maw. It grinned as it stalked forward.
The woman had urinated when it had gotten within two feet of her, and then it again lunged. She was able to fight it off while his father stabbed at it with one of the cuttlery they'd brought out for the picnic. The beast turned on him, then, swiftly snatching off the man's hand as he went down for another wound. Gary had screamed, his father had screamed, and his mother screamed, before she was choked off as the beast bit down on her exposed throat.
His father had grabbed him with his one free hand and swung him up holding him as he ran for the gate. The beast was quicker, though, and brought down the six foot man effortlessly. Gary watched with horror as the man who was his father screamed in agony and in, eventually, death. The beast then looked at him.
'Little boy, little boy.'
Gary backed away.
'Hide and go seek, little boy.'
He turned and fled down the path to town.
'I'll find you, little boy.'
He'd never run so hard in his life.
'And then you'll be dead, little boy...'
His grandfather found him on the front step of his house; Gary had screamed and beat on the door, babbling something incoherent about a monster. But no one believed him; there wasn't such a thing. They found a car demolished and blown up by the railroad tracks the next morning, and found two charred bodies in the car. These were believed to be his parents, but it was never proven. No one ever got around to going up to his house, and for that, he was glad. Over time, he'd grown up and moved on, becoming social once more.
But that didn't change the fact that the nightmares came.
He never slept alone. Out on the roads, traveling, he slept with Archanine curled around him, and that made him feel safe. But after one of his nightmares, he could feel that presence. It was faint, but it was there.
And he knew that it wasn't finished. One night, he knew, it would be over. The beast would find him, he was sure.
Over time, though, he figured that they were just nightmares, and that whatever the thing had been, it was dead. He knew, now, that it had been a rabid pokemon. But that didn't make it less terrifying when he was dreaming about looking it in the face.
And the beast watches closely, each night.
For the night when Gary finally shuts his eyes, alone in his room, he will hear:
'Little boy, little boy...'
The closet door will swing open, and he will smell the stench of death and see the red eyes of his tormentor once more...and for the last time.
'...I found you.'
Author's Note: Bet you all thought that was some creepy stuff, eh? Well, I get tired of hearing the whole 'car accident' story. Just a shot at something different. Read and review, as always!
