Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon. If I did, Misty's Song would have been included in Pikachu's Jukebox! I don't own "The Shining," either. I'm glad I don't though, 'cause if I did, it would have been a really stinky book. Bravo Stephen King!
Last time, Ash and Misty experienced frightful incidents. Brock, in the meantime, became interested in the Fireside's Warmth's past.
Summary: Ash and Misty finally come to the conclusion that the Fireside's Warmth Hotel is haunted. But when they suggest leaving, to their surprise, Brock refuses! What's up with him?
Midnight! Pokéball Go!
by Spruceton Spook
Part 10:
Can't Go Home Anymore
The huge fireplace crackled before them, sending tiny flaming sparks scattering in various directions. Brock watched the sparks fly and sighed as he poked at the blaze to give it more oxygen.
His attention was directed toward the fire for quite some time now. Silence dominated the room, a silence that was all too awkward. Behind him, Ash and Misty sat on the couch staring blindly into space. He wanted to help them so bad, but neither of them had spoken a word since he found them sobbing in each other's arms. The few times that he glanced at them, he could see terror drawn on their faces.
Misty was still crying, but now the huge tears she had been shedding turned into small streams down her face. Large puddles of tears were welled up in the base and corners of her eyes. Her nose was running slightly, and occasionally she lifted her hand to wipe it. She rocked back and forth rhythmically, her small Togepi clutched tightly in her arms. Sometimes she would be biting down on her bottom lip, so hard that it would turn white.
Ash, on the other hand, was a bit more calm at the moment, but the look on his face was far more distraught than the one on Misty's. He had turned incredibly pale, so pale that Brock could have mistaken him for having a bad case of the flu. In fact, he was as white as a ghost. The tears that had been pouring out of his eyes not ten minutes ago had ceased, leaving his eyes and cheeks a swollen shade of red. He breathed hard but at a normal speed. Pikachu was worried extremely for his trainer, and Brock watched sadly as the Pokémon tried to get Ash's attention, rubbing soothingly against his legs and arms. But Ash did not stir. Brock also noticed that Ash's hat was not on his head like it had been when they had last parted.
Brock sighed heavily again, and looked worriedly at his friends. "Guys," he started in the calmest tone he could, "I--I don't know what happened, so if you want me to help you, you have to tell me what the problem is."
He couldn't even remember how many times he had said that. But suddenly this time, Misty looked down at him, a fresh batch of tears rolling down her cheeks.
"We have to get out of here," she said, her voice cracking and slightly muffled from her crying.
This brought Ash back to earth, but all he could do was look sincerely into Brock's eyes and nod.
Brock was confused and his eyes darted around the room. "Why? What happened?" This time, his voice had an inclination of demand in it.
Misty shook her head and closed her eyes tightly, lifting her face toward the ceiling. A small sob escaped her and she looked back down at him, then at Ash, whose gaze met hers. Somehow, although she didn't know quite what his story was, she could tell that something as horrible or even more had befallen him.
"Oh, God," she muttered. "I. . . I don't want to talk about it. Oh God, help me!"
She buried her face in her hands. Ash squeezed over towards her on the couch, and Brock went up to her. Brock began to stroke her head gently and he gazed almost lovingly into her face.
"Misty," he said softly. "What happened? You can tell me. I want to help you, you know that!" He looked over at Ash, who he had to get a story out of as well.
"Were you with her?" Brock asked the pale-faced Ash, and Ash shook his head languidly.
Brock turned back to Misty. "Misty, tell me. Was this like what happened to you last night?"
Misty shook her head. Brock shrugged. Ash turned the opposite way again. He swallowed heavily, and Brock realized that he had a real problem on his hands here. "Ash. . ." he began.
"The pool!" Misty suddenly gasped, looking with wide eyes at her two friends. "The--the pool. It. . .it. . .something happened."
Brock had realized that it had been something to do with that. He had to put a blanket over Misty as soon as he discovered them. Ash's clothes were also wet from holding Misty. Having run out of the pool without a towel or bathrobe could only spell trouble.
"What happened at the pool Misty?" Brock asked.
"Blood," she said plainly. "The--the water turned to blood."
"Misty. . ." Brock started.
"I saw it!" Misty blared. She began to cry heavily now. "I saw it, Brock! Don't please don't tell me I didn't! I know I did! I just know!"
"It's okay, it's okay," Brock immediately replied, hugged her tightly as she cried on his shoulder.
Just then, seeing and hearing what Misty had just announced, Ash started to breathe more heavily and tears leaked slowly out of his eyes. Brock turned to him.
"Oh God, Ash, please don't tell me you to. . ."
Ash nodded grievously, but he immediately contradicted himself. "No....no I didn't see blood. Something worse--"
"What?!" Brock exclaimed, still holding Misty in his arms. Only now, Misty turned her attention to Ash.
"I--I went into 220," Ash explained although it was a little tough. "Room 220. I don't know why I went in, it was almost like something inside of me was telling me to go in there."
"Oh God," Misty muffled loudly. "You--you didn't see anything up there, did you? Please tell me you didn't."
Ash didn't respond, which was what Misty had feared the most. "The bathroom. I went into the b-bathroom. But it wasn't right. Something wasn't right. I knew there was somebody in there, so when I--when I...." he trailed off gradually, sending Misty and Brock into complete suspense.
"She was in the bathtub!" Ash screamed loudly. "I saw her in the bathtub! She--she was dead!"
His heart began to race as he recalled the horrible experience in his mind.
"Ash! Ash, listen to me!" Brock shouted. "Who was it, Ash? Who was it?"
"I don't know!" Ash replied fearfully. "But--but she looked at me! And then she smiled at me..."
"Ash!" It was Brock again. "Ash, is there really a dead person upstairs? In the bathtub? Are you sure?"
Ash didn't reply once again, but continued. "She looked at me, Brock! Right into my eyes! She was dead, but she WASN'T DEAD!"
"That's impossible!" Brock replied. "Is she real Ash? Can you answer that?"
"I don't know!" Ash cried desperately. "I don't know, I ran! I don't know if it was real." His voice lowered. "I hope it wasn't. . ."
Brock didn't know what to say. Just when he was ready to accept that the Fireside's Warmth Hotel was not haunted or couldn't possibly be, this had to happen. But he just couldn't accept it. Ghosts weren't real! This could not be happening. There had to be an explanation. There had to be. But how could he explain Misty's night as well?
Brock got up. Ash grabbed his arm suddenly. He stared down into Ash's terror-filled eyes and quivering lips. "I want to go home, Brock."
"But Ash..." Brock said.
"Now!" Ash added. "Please Brock! I want to go home now. I don't want to be here any more!"
Misty joined in as well. "Me too. Brock, something's terribly wrong here! The hotel doesn't want us! It's made itself clear!"
"Look at what you're saying!" Brock said incredulously. "You acting like the hotel has a mind of its own!"
"Brock!" Misty cried, grabbing the boy by the shirt. "I am not spending another night in this hotel! Please, let's go! Now!"
Brock released himself from Misty's grip and looked worriedly into the faces of his two younger friends. Scared children, that's all they were. Scared over nothing. Brock stood firmly in his belief that the Fireside's Warmth Hotel was not haunted. If it was, how come nothing had happened to him? Suddenly, his breathing seemed to freeze. It was only now that the event that occured the day before on the third floor came to him. He remembered clearly the frightening presence that he had felt behind him as he, Ash, and Misty made their way around the hotel. Still not to sure though, he put it aside. Of course he had felt funny the past couple of days, but that could have been nothing. He recalled that as a child he had sometimes experienced similar feelings, and his mother had told him that it was all in his mind. And it was that principle that Brock had turned to whenever he felt scared of something. This time was not going to be an exception. He wasn't going to allow Ash and Misty to get scared over nothing, either.
"Okay," he said, a little weakly but all the same certain. He began to walk out of the room, slightly shuffling his feet.
"Oh my God, where are you going?!" Misty demanded fearfully.
Brock stood almost as stiff as a statue. "Gonna check out 220."
Ash's eyes widened. "No Brock! Don't go up there!"
"Ash!" Brock said with anger rising in his tone. "Would you calm down! You may be right, Ash, there might be something up there. But I'm not so sure that it's a ghost, I mean. . ." He paused for a moment. "There very well might be a dead person up there. For real."
Ash wanted to protest, but the look of determination in Brock's face told him not to. He was so sure, in fact utterly positive that his "encounter" had very surely rolled its eyes to fixate on his, and its mouth curled into the most grotesque, evil smile that he had ever seen. He looked over at Misty, who stared at Brock haggardly. Ash could tell that she too wasn't quite fond of Brock's sudden decision.
Brock turned again to leave.
"Be careful!" Misty called out to him softly.
Brock looked sincerely into her eyes. "Don't worry about me."
Once he left, Ash and Misty sat back. They looked at each other, then back at the fire. The urges to run out grew steadily within them. Misty almost hoped that Brock would see something disturbing up there, if it would just convince him to leave the Fireside's Warmth. . .forever.
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Brock walked at a leisurely, relaxed pace up the hotel's main staircase, the same one Ash had been flying down in horrifying panic not much earlier. He tried to fight the little bit of fear that was starting to arise within him, but he couldn't help but shiver a little bit as he made his way closer and closer to room 220. Ghosts weren't on his mind, however. He had scared himself stupid just moments ago when he had realized that there really could be a carcass in the guest room's bathtub.
One by one, thoughts and accusations flew through his mind rapidly. If there was something up there, could it have been that Mr. Vrenden wanted to get away from the Fireside's Warmth for another reason other than retiring? More like, trying to hide a gruesome murder?
"No, no!" Brock scolded himself. "What the hell am I thinking?"
He neared the feared room slowly to discover the door ajar. A single room key hung from the brass lock. Brock pulled it out and stuffed it deep into his pants pocket. Hesitantly, he made his way into the room, looking around cautiously in every corner. As much as he hated it, his heart was beginning to pound. Jumping at the same mirror reflection that Ash had, Brock shook his head and held his hand up to his racing heart.
Seeing something on the floor out of the corner his eye, he glanced down, only to discover that it was Ash's hat. He picked it up and gripped it tightly in his hand, then continued in his search. Slowly, he shifted his eyes toward the bathroom door, which was wide open. The bathtub stood there serenely, its curtain drawn. Brock carefully placed one foot in front of the other as he trudged nearer and nearer to the bathtub. He was now fully in the bathroom, but the bathtub looked like it was a million miles away.
Clenching his teeth, he raised his hand up to the curtain. In one whoosh, almost like pulling off a Band-Aid, he yanked the curtain back. He looked down in the bathtub, his heart about to leap out of his chest.
Nothing. There was nothing in the tub at all. Relatively confused and a bit astonished, he searched around the small bathtub. Finally he breathed a sigh of relief. Grinning slightly, he ran both hands through his hair and scratched his head. Ash had been imagining it. That had to be it. At least there wasn't really a dead person up there. Brock didn't know what he was going to do if he had found one.
He turned to leave and walked more slowly and relaxed out of the bathroom. He didn't know what he was going to say to Ash or Misty when he got down there. All he could see in his mind was the looks of desperate wanting to leave in their faces. A little bit of him wanted to leave as well, but he still couldn't shake how wonderful the hotel seemed to him. If only Ash and Misty knew what a historic place they had been staying in. . .
WHOOSH. Brock froze in his place, and turned around slowly back to the bathroom. That's where the sound had come from, he was sure. It sounded...well it sounded almost like the curtain had been pulled back. Which was exactly what Brock hoped that he didn't hear. That familiar bolt of terror struck him again, and without thinking twice he ran out of room. Grabbing the doorknob on the way, he slammed the door shut with a tremendous bang and dashed away as fast as he could away from that room. Suddenly, the principle that his mother had taught him ten years ago escaped his memory, and the real fright set in.
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Outside, it was clearly the coldest day yet since the summer months had ended. Team Rocket was shivering once again, only now it had become more unbearable. Jessie had been sitting hunched over, desperately rubbing her legs to get her circulation running. Meowth hadn't been complaining much lately as he had been; now he was wrapped up in one of the blankets that they carried around with them. James watched the hotel attentively from time to time, hoping to see one of those notorious twerps emerge. It would be the perfect time to attack, and they would have never expected it.
"James, we have to get inside that hotel," Jessie said, her voice shaking from the cold.
James looked at her. "If you want," he replied, crouching down to her. "How should we go about doing this?"
James wasn't sure if Jessie shrugged or not, he couldn't tell by how much she was shivering. Meowth looked up interestedly.
"We're goin in? Finally?" Meowth's eyes lit up.
Jessie smiled, and the usual scheme-filled look taking over her face. "I'm not sure, but I think there's a servants' entrance in the back. If it's open, we can get in easily and hide in the pantry!"
"And if it's locked?" Meowth asked, his eyes narrowing now.
"Yeah?" James agreed.
"Well, if it is, then we'll find another way in. Knowing these brats, they probably left some sort of door or window open, anyway. And when we do get in there, we'll unleash our new brilliant plan."
"Which is?" James asked. "You still haven't told us!"
Jessie smiled. "Trust me, you'll find out soon."
James and Meowth didn't bug her to find out. They were too cold to do anything right now. Packing up their stuff, they began to head towards the hotel. Every chance they got they would hide behind a tree or shrub. They finally reached the roque court, and inspected the surrounding area. Without saying a word, Jessie pointed at a small, country-like door. Their ticket in. With huge grins on their faces, they moved steadily towards it.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .