The Legend of Cubone (Yes, a Pokemon fanfic)
I don't own Pokemon, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah… do own this story… blah blah don't
steal it please blah don't flame me either blah blah thought about this for a long time blah
blah blah blah blah.
So much for an author's note. Yes, this is my first Pokemon fanfic, and yes my thoughts
are well-grounded when you think hard about what I have to say.
So without further ado…….. the story.
Once, a very very very long time ago, before humans classified and studied Pokemon,
before the Johto-class Pokemon were even heard of and before all of even the original
150 Pokemon had appeared in the world, there was one that stood apart from his brother
and sister Pokemon.
He was a Charmander. A quiet, resolute, reclusive and at times slightly sulky
Charmander. He lived near a desert town called Rock Tree, and watched the humans
living there go about there daily lives. There were a few Pokemon living there, but there
were not many and most of them belonged to very powerful politicians who had bought
them, or hunters who caught them. It was very hard work.
The Charmander who lived here, near Rock Tree, lived in a cave in the side of a cliff,
away from all of the desert Pokemon. There were a number of Sandshrew living there,
and Geodude, and there were caves that had been dug by Digletts. But Charmander chose
to live here, not because he liked the desert but because he'd had nowhere else to go.
A hunter had found him living peacefully near a volcanic place, and had caught him in a
net. The hunter had only wanted to catch Charmander to sell him to a rich store owner
who wanted one of these rare and dangerous Pokemon creatures. The hunter sold
Charmander to the rich man for a lot of money, and Charmander became a pet.
He hated his life. He lived in a cage, wasn't fed nearly enough, or well enough, and at
night his cage grew cold and wet. Charmander grew ill many times, but the rich man
didn't bother to have him taken care of.
Soon he snapped and welded through the bars of the cage. He had to get away from that
horrible place, so he ran. The rich man sent another hunter after him. Charmander
attacked the hunter and hurt him badly, but the hunter didn't die. Many humans came
after Charmander, trying to catch him or kill him. None of them succeeded.
So Charmander lived in the desert, alone and sad. He didn't like hating but he'd gotten to
the point that it was all he knew how to do. But soon the hate faded and all he felt was a
gnawing sickness inside him. He was lonely… far too lonely. He got into fights with the
other desert Pokemon, but his fire couldn't hurt them.
One day he found a skull on the ground by his cave. It was large and unrecognizable, but
it would make a good helmet, so he put it on his head. It obscured his face entirely.
Charmander felt safe behind his mask, and along with the dust on his skin staining it
brown, he didn't look like a Charmander anymore.
He found a bone and made it into a club. He kept getting into fights, but he was winning
them now. He was the king of the desert until the day that he died, no longer the lean fire
lizard of a Charmander, but the squat, lonely, dirt-brown, skull-masked, bone-wielding
king of the desert.
It's said that at night in Rock Tree, if you listen very hard, you can still hear the swish
and thud of the bone club of the world's first Cubone, claiming back the desert for his
own.
I don't own Pokemon, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah… do own this story… blah blah don't
steal it please blah don't flame me either blah blah thought about this for a long time blah
blah blah blah blah.
So much for an author's note. Yes, this is my first Pokemon fanfic, and yes my thoughts
are well-grounded when you think hard about what I have to say.
So without further ado…….. the story.
Once, a very very very long time ago, before humans classified and studied Pokemon,
before the Johto-class Pokemon were even heard of and before all of even the original
150 Pokemon had appeared in the world, there was one that stood apart from his brother
and sister Pokemon.
He was a Charmander. A quiet, resolute, reclusive and at times slightly sulky
Charmander. He lived near a desert town called Rock Tree, and watched the humans
living there go about there daily lives. There were a few Pokemon living there, but there
were not many and most of them belonged to very powerful politicians who had bought
them, or hunters who caught them. It was very hard work.
The Charmander who lived here, near Rock Tree, lived in a cave in the side of a cliff,
away from all of the desert Pokemon. There were a number of Sandshrew living there,
and Geodude, and there were caves that had been dug by Digletts. But Charmander chose
to live here, not because he liked the desert but because he'd had nowhere else to go.
A hunter had found him living peacefully near a volcanic place, and had caught him in a
net. The hunter had only wanted to catch Charmander to sell him to a rich store owner
who wanted one of these rare and dangerous Pokemon creatures. The hunter sold
Charmander to the rich man for a lot of money, and Charmander became a pet.
He hated his life. He lived in a cage, wasn't fed nearly enough, or well enough, and at
night his cage grew cold and wet. Charmander grew ill many times, but the rich man
didn't bother to have him taken care of.
Soon he snapped and welded through the bars of the cage. He had to get away from that
horrible place, so he ran. The rich man sent another hunter after him. Charmander
attacked the hunter and hurt him badly, but the hunter didn't die. Many humans came
after Charmander, trying to catch him or kill him. None of them succeeded.
So Charmander lived in the desert, alone and sad. He didn't like hating but he'd gotten to
the point that it was all he knew how to do. But soon the hate faded and all he felt was a
gnawing sickness inside him. He was lonely… far too lonely. He got into fights with the
other desert Pokemon, but his fire couldn't hurt them.
One day he found a skull on the ground by his cave. It was large and unrecognizable, but
it would make a good helmet, so he put it on his head. It obscured his face entirely.
Charmander felt safe behind his mask, and along with the dust on his skin staining it
brown, he didn't look like a Charmander anymore.
He found a bone and made it into a club. He kept getting into fights, but he was winning
them now. He was the king of the desert until the day that he died, no longer the lean fire
lizard of a Charmander, but the squat, lonely, dirt-brown, skull-masked, bone-wielding
king of the desert.
It's said that at night in Rock Tree, if you listen very hard, you can still hear the swish
and thud of the bone club of the world's first Cubone, claiming back the desert for his
own.