Hey guys, sorry for the long pause, I had a bit of trouble with the ending. I will try to post at least every other week, but I'd rather it be late and good than rushed and terrible.
Also, I would just like to thank everyone for reading this attempt at literature, and all of the follows that I have gotten. Even if I haven't gotten many reviews, the fact that people read this and actually wanted more means a lot to me. Thank you.
And one last thing, I don't own Pokémon.
The morning sunlight trickled warmly through the window, and softly struck James' back, rising him slowly out of his slumber, which held what he thought to be a dream. No, a nightmare was more like it. Nevertheless, he couldn't remember a time that he had slept this well and felt genuinely good about waking up. As he thought about his surroundings, he noticed the sun on his back, signaling that it had to be sometime around noon. As he thought about his setting more, he realized that it was a Friday. Which also meant that it was a school day. And he was sleeping.
He bolted out of what he thought to be his bed and ran on all fours to try and get ready for school. As he saw his black and white surroundings he stopped dead in his tracks. He then noticed he was on all fours. Like an animal. More specifically, like a pichu. He pushed off of his forelegs and examined the paws he needed to be hands.
He fell backwards into a sitting position as tears swelled into his eyes. Every single terrible thing he could think about his situation came rushing to the forefront of his mind. Every instrument he couldn't play, every job he wouldn't get, every word he couldn't say, every colour he couldn't see, until all his pains were pushed out of his eyes in the form of droplets of salty water. He buried his eyes into the limbs he was holding up and poured out all his worries into the tiny things he called paws in an instinctual attempt to stop the pain.
As he cried his eyes out, a thought came trickling into his mind: what if he was dreaming? He immediately accepted this explanation. He knew it to be true, it had to be. He just needed to prove it. He couldn't pinch himself, so he shot his right arm up to his mouth and dug his teeth into his paw.
He hoped and prayed that no pain would come from his minute appendage to prove that what he was experiencing was nothing more than random signals from his subconscious. But sadly, fate decided not to listen to his pitiful cries, and he was greeted by a taste of iron and excruciating pain. He instantly pulled his arm away from the unforgiving mandibles. He held his wounded arm to his chest and felt the blood seep into his fur.
Now that his paws were no longer inhibiting his vision, he saw his mother kneeling in front of him with a horrified and worried expression. He felt even worse when he remembered that his own mother thought he was a disgusting rat and curled up into a ball in an attempt to hide his shame. As he sobbed, he began to feel something touching his back. It seemed to be rubbing him softly, calming him down a surprising amount. He felt composed enough to look up and see what was soothing him. He looked at the arm and followed it back to find it was attached to his mother.
"Are you all right?" she asked softly. He shook his head with a pained expression. She looked at him cautiously and studied the mouse until she noticed the blood seeping into his chest. "Can I see your arm?" James carefully showed her his injured limb. Blood still oozed slowly out of his wound. She reached forward cautiously to examine his arm more closely, but he pulled it away before she could. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to look at it to see how deep it is."
James closed his eyes and breathed deeply to try and curb his instinct to run away. It's okay, you've been through this hundreds of times before. She's just going to look at it and then bandage it up. He slowly put his arm out and let her carefully examine it. He cringed a little as she touched his arm, receiving small signals of pain from his wound. "That's really deep," she muttered quietly. "I'll be right back, okay? I just need to grab some things to help fix it, alright?" He nodded with a little bit of confusion in his expression. Why would she say fix it? It sounds like how you would explain it to a…baby, of course. He gained a few more tears in his eyes with this thought as Adelaine went to grab some things from the medicine cabinet.
She hurried back with a spray can of some sort, some gauze, and medical tape in the other. She sat down next to him, placing the cloth and tape on the floor beside her and held up the spray can. "Listen, this is going to hurt for a second, but it will stop really fast and help it heal faster, alright?" she explained with the most babied tone James had heard from her since he was a small child.
James took a deep breath to try and calm his instincts screaming at him to run, warily sticking out his arm with his head turned away and eyes clenched shut. He briefly felt something cold on his wound that soon burned with the heat of a thousand suns. He instantly pulled away and cradled his arm, facing his mother, his face screaming betrayal. More tears flowed from his eyes as he stared at his own mother who had just induced that hellish pain onto his already painful wound.
Half of his mind wanted to run away and cry in a corner, while the other was trying its best to compose the other half and let Adelaine dress his wound. Before his mind had come up with a winner or a compromise, the words, "That really hurt!" had already escaped his lips. He was startled by just how pitiful and frail his voice really sounded. He had heard it before, but this was the first time he had really listened to it. He prayed it was just because of his sobbing.
Adelaine thought a moment, trying to guess what he had said before saying, "I know that it hurt, but it helps it heal faster, okay? And besides, it stopped hurting didn't it?"
James was left dumbfounded. Not only had he just spoken without wanting to, the words had been so simple and predictable, his mother had been able to guess what he had said word-for-word. This really wasn't helping his plan of convincing his family he wasn't just a stupid fictional mouse. Before he could stop himself, he threw his arm out and looked away, letting her dress his wound. She paused a moment, a little surprised the rodent hadn't ran off into a corner or something, like rodents do, but eventually began to bandage his wound.
He cringed every time she made the slightest movement related to his arm. It felt like she was stabbing him with a knife three times his own size, bringing a fresh wave of tears to his eyes every time she touched it. He finally stopped receiving the pain signals, so he determined that she was either done, or had severed his arm completely off. He looked back at his arm to find it still there and surrounded by a white padding. It still hurt, but it felt a lot better. He tested moving it to find it responded perfectly. He looked back at his mother and blushed a little, sending a few sparks out of his cheeks.
"T-thanks, and, sorry for, like, you know, yelling and stuff," he stuttered, with his hands behind his back and looking down and to the side in shame. He was still surprised by how childish his voice sounded.
Seeing the mouse's stance, Adelaine was filled with memories of her son. This was the exact way James would stand when he was apologizing about something he had done. A tear formed in her eye and sauntered down her cheek as memories of her son filled her mind, coupled with tears filling her eyes. The pressure soon forced her eyes to pour out the salty liquid, startling James out of his guilty stance.
"What's wrong?" he asked, walking up to her and putting his good paw onto her leg. She didn't notice, though. She was too deeply lost in the grief of her missing son. What she wouldn't give to have been able to say goodbye, to have one last conversation with him, to see him one last time. She wished with all her heart that her son was standing there in front of her instead of this mouse.
She suddenly became aware of something pressing against her leg. She looked down to see the mouse poking her leg and looking up at her with his head tilted. She heard it say something in its nonsensical language, sounding as if he had just said it for the millionth time. She assumed he had asked her what was wrong. She didn't want to make this little guy's day worse, so with a forced smile she just said, "I just saw you crying, and it looked like fun, so I wanted to try it,"
James felt a little hurt by this answer. Not only had she just tried to brush him of, she had done it as if he was three years old. He pushed on her leg again. "I know that's not why you're crying, tell me what's wrong!"
She wasn't sure what he had said, but was fairly certain it had been something along the lines of, "Stop with that bull and tell me why you're really crying," so she did.
"Well, it's just, my son just recently disappeared, and you kind of remind me of him. You and him are a lot alike, you know," she sobbed, trying her best to smile so she could the mouse from feeling her pain.
Despite how sad the news might have seemed to someone else, James couldn't have been happier. This is exactly what he had wanted to achieve, and he hadn't even been trying. He tried his best not to jump for joy, and hugged his mother's leg so she couldn't see his smile. He was filled with more hope than he thought possible.
He felt her begin to scratch and pet him across his head. He simultaneously never wanted this feeling to stop, and wished it had never begun. His mind was at complete war with itself, the side against the feeling slowly dwindling until it gave up and just submitted to the hands of heaven. His mind melted into nothing but the satisfying scratch sucking away all of his wants and needs and sadness until there was only that one sweet sensation.
When it was over, James was left completely and totally relaxed, tears all but gone. Adelaine was feeling better as well. She wasn't sure why, but petting the mouse and seeing him relax had been enough to pull her out of her depressed state.
James slowly pulled together the gooey remains of his melted mind, and got back to his "feet". As he looked up at his mother, he was once again reminded of his lack of clothing. He silently wished his clothes would have shrunk with him. Feeling bashful, he looked around for anything to cover himself with, but had to settle with his paws for now. When he covered himself, his mother gave him an odd look.
"Why do you do that?" she asked, with a humored expression.
"Because I'm naked, and it's…weird. I don't want to be naked in front of people, it's…" he wanted to say "inappropriate", but the word just wouldn't come out. Usually he would just try to say the human word, and the pichu equivalent would come out. But this one just wouldn't. It was like the word was on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn't remember the way to say it. Nevertheless, his mother wouldn't have understood him either way.
"Are you doing that because you're naked?" she questioned. James just bobbed his head up and down.
"Huh, I never thought animals knew about nudity, or if they did, they didn't mind," she stated.
"Well, they usually don't, but I'm not an animal," he explained. James was getting tired of this pointless conversation and really needed to get to work in convincing his family he was a human. As he thought of ways to achieve this, he was suddenly lifted up and carried against his will.
"Hey! What are you doing?" he yelled from her hands. Despite how quiet it sounded, for a yell at least, Adelaine was rather startled.
"What's wrong? I'm just taking you to the sink to clean off the blood," she explained. James looked down, flustered at how she could just pick up her thirteen year old son without a second thought.
"Oh, well, you could've asked first. Do you have any idea how…" There it was again, patronizing, another little blip in his speech. He had to figure out why he couldn't say these words. He scratched his head in thought. They were both fairly human concepts, and slightly advanced words, though a second grader could've most likely understood them. Why couldn't he say the pichu equivalent? Is it because there isn't a pichu equivalent? That would make sense. He tried several different words that were very human or complex and some simple and animalistic ones, finding his hypothesis fairly close to the truth, though there were a few words that seemed human, yet had pichu equivalents that meant something slightly different, such as computer and porygon nest. They were both talking about the same thing, but held different meanings.
"What are you saying?" Adelaine amusedly asked the now sitting pichu. James looked around and was surprised to be on the kitchen counter next to the sink. He looked at his mother, but quickly averted his gaze, scratching the back of his head.
"I was just, um, just seeing what words I can say I guess," he mumbled. Adelaine just giggled a little.
"I don't know why I ask you these questions, it's not like I can understand you," she chuckled. She was reaching for the sink to turn it on, when the doorbell yelled out to tell her someone was there. Adelaine looked at the mouse with a slightly sad expression.
"I'm sorry, I have to go answer the door. I'll be right back," she explained. She walked out of the kitchen and over to the door. She opened the door to find Christopher on the other side. She wasn't too surprised; Christopher was one of her son's closest friends, and to find him at her door after James wasn't at school one day was practically procedure by now.
"Hello Mrs. Brown is James all right?" he asked tenderly. Adelaine smiled at him sadly.
"Here Christopher, come in," she requested. Christopher stepped in and walked into the living room. He stood in the middle of the room and looked at Adelaine expectantly. She seemed like she was about to say something that would ruin his life.
"Please, sit down," she insisted. Christopher obeyed, worry blatant on his face.
"What's wrong? Did something happen to James?" he said, worry gleaming off his face. Adelaine pondered for a moment on how to approach this.
"Did you hear about the worldwide disappearances at school?" Christopher's eyes jolted open, almost as if they were going to leap out of his head. He put his head in his hands and looked down to the floor. He didn't say anything for a moment, but even when he did, it was practically a whisper.
"I-I heard of them, yeah, but I thought it was just a coincidence that he wasn't at school on the same day that all this happened. I never imagined…" He sat there for a moment in silence until he felt something hop onto the couch next to him. He looked and saw a yellow mouse that seemed to both want to go towards him and run away at the same time.
James looked at Christopher, needing to go over to him, but his instincts were yelling at him to run away. He wished his friend hadn't owned a dog; that would have made it much easier. His body already hated humans for some reason, and the fact that this one smelled like predator wasn't helping. Despite all of this, he needed to get over to him. Christopher had always been good at figuring stuff out or knowing what people were thinking, sometimes even accused of being psychic, more jokingly really, but he was James' best shot at getting recognized as a human. He stepped cautiously over to his friend, receiving a sad smile in return.
"So, what are you going to do with him? I know your whole no pets policy, and well, you know," Christopher mumbled. Adelaine looked at the mouse sadly.
"Well, I was originally going to give him away or something, but he's just too much like James, I couldn't possibly give him away," she explained. Christopher looked at the mouse and tried his best to smile.
"Well at least you'll have something to remind you of James," he comforted.
The mouse hopped out of the way as Adelaine came to sit next to Christopher. She then invited him to sit on her lap by patting her leg and saying, "Come on, little guy."
James obliged with little hesitation, though it took him a little time in his forced bipedal stance. He climbed onto her leg with little difficulty and looked up at the two humans staring down at him, putting him on edge. He knew that their stares meant no harm, but for some reason, it felt like they were getting ready to eat him.
Adelaine gave the mouse's head a quick tussle and tried her best not to show her anguish.
"Are you alright?" Christopher asked.
Adelaine looked over to the youth with her face crying sorrow, but she tried to hide her pain. She faced the young man for a few moments, barely able to hold the tears back, but trying to smile, her eyes soon overflowing with more tears than she had released in a long time. All the pain and fear she felt for her son was poured out of her eyes with the intent of releasing the unbearable pain.
James jumped off of Adelaine's knee as her arms swung down to hold her sobbing eyes. Christopher put his hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe and comfort the mother weeping for her lost child.
"Don't worry, I'm sure he's somewhere," he whispered.
James stared at his mourning mother, wanting to comfort her, and knowing just how to do it. He hopped off the couch and walked in his forced bipedal stance towards the kitchen. As he looked around his house, he really began to notice the lack of colours. Previously, other things had occupied his thoughts, but when doing a task as simple as walking, it was hard not to notice how lifeless everything seemed to be.
He finally made it to the counter he had wished to reach, but then realized a fault in his plan: he had no way of scaling the massive obstacle. He cried out in frustration, wishing he had thought more about this plan of his. He scratched his head and stared up at the behemoth that stood before him, when he suddenly remembered something. In the cartoon, Pikachu jumped onto tables and counters constantly. He had the ability to get that high; all he needed to do was jump.
James looked up and barely thought before launching himself up…right into the side of the counter. He slid down and plopped down onto the floor, frustration and embarrassment steaming off of him. He pulled himself off of the floor, looking around for something that could help him with his plan. He looked around until he saw the pantry door slightly ajar. He immediately ran over to the door, forgetting his bipedal philosophy. He looked up at the sugar, only a shelf above him. He could almost reach it too.
James went back into his bipedal stance, forgetting to scold himself for running on all fours, he could do that later. Right now, he needed to get the sugar onto the floor. He stretched his arms up as high as he could, barely able to get a grip on the bag. He gripped the part of the bag that he could reach and tore it off the shelf, tumbling back onto the floor himself.
James heard the bag fall down with a soft thud, holding all of the needed contents inside. James quickly fixed that by ripping it open with his teeth. The sweet contents spilled out and splayed across the floor. He spread the contents out across the floor a little more so he could make his writing bigger.
He stood back and admired his work. It was a simple message, only composed of the words, "I am James," but it would do all that it needed to do. He was actually surprised with how easy he had been able to remember how to write the words, considering his mind was a fraction of its normal size. Nevertheless, the message was written, and now he just needed to get his friend and mother to read it.
He ran towards his mother and friend, hardly noticing their state of emotion. He tugged on his friend's jeans, getting no response in return. He tugged a little harder, finally receiving a questioning look and, "What do you want?" from his friend. He frantically threw his arm towards the kitchen, brimming with excitement. "Not now, little guy," Christopher said, and turned back to continue comforting the distraught mother.
James immediately dropped his excited expression, replaced by anger. He quickly released the electricity in his cheeks into his friend's leg, not caring how natural the action felt. "Hey!" James didn't hesitate in pointing in the direction of his message. Christopher let out an exasperated sigh and said, "Alright, fine." He pulled himself off the couch and began to follow the anxious and energetic mouse.
James constantly and frantically looked back at his friend to be sure his friend was still following him, or to urge him to hurry up. He finally reached the pile of sugar seemingly hours before his friend, made sure everything was clearly written, and looked up to see his friend just rounding the corner.
Christopher looked at the mess that stood before him, first showing extreme annoyance, but as he read the message his expression went from confusion, to shock. The English language seemed to run from the boy's lips, until he barely muttered, "James?" James threw his head up and down, the happiest he had been since his transformation. Christopher stood there for a moment, mouth agape before he closed his mouth and creased it into a smile. "Adelaine, Adelaine come here, you've got to see this!"
"What is it?" she mumbled.
"Come see!" Christopher exclaimed.
James quickly ran over to see his mother haul herself up off the couch. Just as he had with Christopher, James urged his mother to hurry. He ran back and stood by his message and watched her round the corner, excitement pouring off him. She looked at Christopher and asked, "What did you want to show me?" Christopher pointed to the pile of sugar. "What? the mouse made a…" but she was unable to finish her sentence as shock overtook her nerves.
"The mouse is James!" Christopher exclaimed.
Adelaine gained a despondent expression. There was complete silence for seemingly hours before she released a hopeless "No…"
"What?" Christopher questioned, his face a picture of confusion.
"I said no! This…this isn't my son! My son is-is a human! Not some stupid, puss yellow, foot tall, little rat! My son was…" but she was unable to finish her sentence as her eyes came across the face that just moments ago, had been filled with more joy than she had ever thought possible, was now drowning in sorrow.
James stared at his mother, eyes filled with tears, whose reaction was so far away from where he thought it would be. In his mind he had imagined her immediately running up to him and hugging him, no questions asked. But apparently she just wanted to insult him and berate him, acting like she would have preferred him dead than like this. He didn't even bother with trying not to cry since this time it wasn't just his animalistic side that needed to cry.
As the first tear fell, James turned around and ran away from his mother, directly across his message, unaware of his quadruped posture. He didn't pay attention to his direction or destination, eventually finding himself hiding behind the laundry hamper in his mother's room.
"James?" he heard his friend call, "James, come on, she…she didn't mean it. She was just… surprised, that's all. James? Where are you?" He did his best to quiet his sobs so his friend could not determine his location. His sobs were nearly non-existent, and James could tell his plan was working since he heard his friend looking for him on the other side of the room.
"James, please come out, you know your mother doesn't really think that about you, she's just scared." Christopher listened for a moment, but when he got nothing in response, he sighed.
James heard nothing for a moment, but then heard what sounded like a chuckle, and footsteps beginning to get louder and louder, slowly approaching him. He felt his heart begin to beat at the speed of light, and his mind began to race about what he could do so his friend didn't find him or what was giving him away. Before he could complete his thoughts, his tail was screaming that it was going to be ripped off by some unknown force. He cried out in immense pain, the tears he had attempted to halt pouring out of his eyes. He looked towards his friend with his eyes pleading mercy.
Christopher didn't seem to understand what he was doing to his friend, but did put him down in front of the mouse's old hiding place. James let out an unrefined burst of energy, hitting himself more than his friend, leaving him with tears swelling out of his eyes from the pain he received from every nerve in his body. He cried for what felt like weeks until he couldn't cry any more.
"James, are you all right?" Christopher said in a low and careful voice. If James hadn't been through as much as he had been, he might have just yelled at his friend, but right now, he was just too tired to care anymore. He slowly forced his head to the sides both ways and waited for his friend to respond.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"My mommy hates me!" he shouted, anger dripping into his voice. He saw his friends face void of understanding and sighed.
"Are you sure you can't speak English?" This question floated in the air for a moment, no answer coming from either party. The answer would have come quickly from James normally; he had been forced to speak the pichu language for the past day. He hadn't ever tried to speak English, though. But even if he had tried, he didn't have the right anatomy, did he? His lips were full enough to make the "p" sound, so that meant he could do many other sounds of the English language. And his tongue didn't feel as thin as a dogs tongue, so he could probably use it fairly effectively.
James began to focus on where he needed to place his tongue and how to position his mouth to create the sound he needed to make. A quiet and nearly indistinguishable "nn" hummed out of his mouth as he released some air and vibrated his tiny vocal chords. It almost felt wrong to do it, but this fact was ignored by the excitement that filled his body. He could speak English! He would be understood by more than just fictional creatures and animals!
James wished his mother would have been there, but as soon as the thought of his mother entered his mind, he felt his stomach suddenly gain one-thousand pounds and plummet to the ground. His mother still wasn't here, and that could only mean one of two things; she was either silently waiting in the other room to run in and embrace him when he made his first distinguishable human sound. Either that or she had collapsed again. He didn't hesitate before running out to check on his mother, wanting, hoping, praying, that she wouldn't still be standing in the kitchen staring at his message.
His heart sank as he sprinted around the corner and saw his worst nightmare standing in front of the sugary mess he had made. He ran up to his mother and tugged on her pant leg, needing to get a response from his comatose mother. His eyes met the glassy, lifeless look that his mother's eyes seemed to adopt. He hadn't seen that look ever since…since the death of his father. He threw his watery eyes into the soft fabric of his mother's pants, shouting things nothing could have understood.
He didn't care how pitiful his voice sounded, he didn't care that he was acting like a baby, he didn't care that the words he was shouting weren't English, all he cared about was that he wanted his mommy back. He wanted movement, a sound, an expression, anything but that lifeless stare that penetrated his soul.
James cried for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, until he felt the soaked fabric melded to his face by tears move. His gaze shot towards his mother who was getting in kneeling stance in front of him. Her eyes seemed to have lost some of the lifelessness to it, and now stared at what claimed to be her son with both worry, and sorrow.
"James, that's really…that's really you, isn't it?" James nodded his head, a few stray drops of salty water falling off of his soaked cheeks. Adelaine's eyes seemed to grow more sorrow as she attempted to ask the question "Did…did I…" James nodded again, knowing what she had intended to say. Tears threw themselves out of her eyes and she immediately grabbed the mouse standing before her and pulled him into a loving embrace.
"I'm sorry! I don't care what you are, what you look like or anything, I just care that you are you. That's all that matters. I will love you no matter what." As her words went on, they seemed to fix all the cracks in James' heart. The mother and son stayed in that stance until both were ready to release their grip.