The Pokemon Chronicles
Fanfiction by Sung-Min Kwon. © 2003
Disclaimer: Pokemon and its associated characters are copyrighted by Nintendo, Game Freak, Creatures Inc, and 4Kids Productions.
***********************
-Conflagration-
He abruptly woke up to a loud, shattering noise, followed by a heavy thump on the floor. It sounded similar to that of breaking glass.
He sat up in his bed and looked around, but couldn't see anyone at all.
It was still pitch-black; it was still the middle of the night.
Just when it occurred to him that someone had broken into his room, he suddenly felt something sharp sink into his left side. He gasped.
Pain.
He yelled loudly. He rolled off the bed immediately and crawled under it silently, trying to momentarily forget the pain. After he was under the bed, he held his heavy breathing as best as he could, and listened.
He could hear breathing on the bed. It was breathing even louder than his. Someone had indeed broken into his room, and that someone had driven a weapon into his side.
And the weapon had actually pierced his body, because as he ran his hands over his belly, he felt a sharp point slightly protruding through the skin.
But that was better; if the dagger had gone in straight into the body, it would certainly have struck something vital.
As he pulled out the sharp device in his side, he suddenly felt blood drain from the deep wound.
He guessed that the dagger had not just gone through the skin, but also stabbed through the muscle, seeing just how much it hurt.
He plugged the wound in his side with his left hand, and probed his right hand over the weapon that had been in his side just a few moments ago.
After some examination, he found it to be a medium-length dagger. It had a short but sharp blade that could probably cut through bone. A dagger made in the style of the weapons preferred by master assassins.
He guessed that his attacker was someone who didn't have as much experience with the weapon, seeing that he was stabbed instead of slashed. He was still alive and fine, except for the deep wound in his side. He thought he would faint from the pain, which was growing stronger by the minute.
But the intense pain in his side was suddenly forgotten because of the sound of his assassin searching the floor right next to the bed to finish off the victim. This scraping sound, although not loud, made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
The assassin sounded hurried, even desperate, to find and eliminate his or her target.
Although, the assassin was literally stumbling in the dark as of now, he realized that it would be a matter of seconds before he was discovered.
Without any thinking, he sprang out from under the bed with the point of the dagger held firmly in front of him. He felt the weapon prod something soft, and he sank the dagger into the body with all his might.
Just then, he felt something sharp slash his cheek, and knew that he had received another wound, although not nearly as serious as the one in his side. He drew the dagger out of the assassin's body like a reflex.
To buy some time, he kicked the assassin with his right foot, mustering all of the strength that he could summon from his weakened body. He felt something, and knew instantly that he had connected with the head.
He caught his breath, and then leaped on the assassin, who had crumpled down on the floor when kicked straight in the face.
After taking the assassin by the arms and pinning the assassin against the wall, he repeatedly slashed the dagger at his assassin like a madman. He did this for what seemed like forever.
Ignoring the high-pitched screams of the assassin, he slashed through the soft skin many times.
He slashed faster and faster in frenzied vengeance, until he got too tired.
He then collapsed in a heap.
***********************
When he regained his senses, he was lying down on the floor covered with blood and with a dagger in his hand. The blood was from the assassin as well as himself.
He was also breathing very heavily, and could feel the pain growing in his side. The wound was bleeding again, although not as heavily as before. He took his blood-soaked sheet and tied it around his waist to stop the flow of blood.
When he looked out the window, he could see orange light that looked like sunrise had just begun. He was relieved to see the light of day.
He saw the assassin lying some distance away from him, but couldn't make out any of the features. The only thing he made out was that a woman had tried to kill him.
But then he stopped in his train of thought. It was too warm to be sunrise: it felt hotter than a summer afternoon. When he actually stuck his head out the window, he saw that his hometown was ablaze with red, evil-looking fire that danced in the middle of the pitch-black night.
What was more, he saw the fire spreading rapidly to the edges of Pallet Town, including where his own house was.
All pain forgotten, he stuffed the dagger in his belt made from his bedsheet. He darted down the stairs and burst out the door like a rocket leaving from a launching pad.
He knew that he would have to be on the other side of the river that almost entirely enveloped Pallet Town if he was to be safe.
The bridge in front of his house was already on fire, and he panicked.
He looked around, and saw that the conflagration was literally rushing toward him. Buildings in the distance were being destroyed, and burning logs were falling everywhere.
Just when he thought he saw no way of escape, he saw a small alley that was still slow in catching fire. Moreover, there were stone buildings on that alley, so he would be relatively safe, as long as there weren't any falling stones.
Knowing that was his only option and that the fire was rushing toward him even as he thought, he took action at once. He zigzagged to avoid burning houses and darted into the alley, turning corners at a wider street that lead to the other bridge. He ran through the burning street, hoping that the other bridge was not ablaze.
Just as he turned another corner, a burning piece of wood fell inches away from his feet. Out of fear, he ran faster and faster, until he got to the bridge.
To his dismay, he saw that the other bridge was on fire. He was now trapped on the small peninsula on which Pallet was built. The strip of land connecting Pallet to the mainland was all forest, which would definitely be on fire.
He now knew that he only had one choice, something that he would never to under normal circumstances. He would have to swim across the cold river that flowed by Pallet Town, and fight the extremely strong current in the middle of the river.
But he had no time to think. The fire was advancing towards him, picking up speed. He held his breath, and jumped off a nearby dock seconds before the fire overtook it.
Not looking back at his burning hometown, he began to swim across the river. The water was frigid, and it was flowing rapidly. When cold water was absorbed by the bedsheet covering the wound, his side hurt as if it was being stabbed by icicles. However, he bit his lip and kept on swimming.
In the very middle of the river, he was carried downstream by the current like a rocket. Knowing that there was a waterfall further down the river, he grabbed on to the nearest rock, breaking a fingernail in the process.
When the current let down a little, he let go of the rock to try to swim to the other side. Bad mistake.
The current was stronger than it looked, and his body was exhausted. The current carried him downriver all the same, and he saw the waterfall approaching.
Aided by a sudden burst of energy, he swam with all his strength to get out of the current. He even tried swimming upriver for a while when he got close to the cataract.
He finally got out of the current and reached the other side of the river less than a hundred feet away from the waterfall.
The other side was made up of many steep cliffs. He worked his hands raw climbing up the jagged rocks, but his mind was only focused on getting up safely and not letting go of the rocks.
If he let go of the rocks, he would probably be dashed to bits on the bottom side of the cliff. Even if he was lucky enough to land back in the river, he would inevitably travel down the waterfall.
Trying not to think of how many ways he could be killed on the way down a waterfall, he scurried up the cliff like an ant at work. When his hands finally felt grass at the top of the cliff, he made a note to himself that grass had never felt so better before.
After he scaled the cliff and dragged his body over the edge, he immediately dropped off to sleep out of extreme exhaustion.
***********************
He heard strange voices in his dream. As the voices faded out, he spotted a pair of red eyes.
***********************
Hours later, he didn't want to get up. But something didn't feel right. When he opened his eyes, he saw that one of his legs were hanging over the edge of the cliff.
He rolled like lightning away from the edge, thinking that he would not survive the trip down the cliff.
After relaxing a bit from the shock, he tried to think where he was, and why he had woken up on the edge of a fifty-foot high cliff. Then it all came back to him.
He was sure that it would be late into the morning, and the sun would be shining brightly. But there was no sun. The sky was dark and filled with black clouds, and it was still very cold, as cold as the water in the river. He could only tell that it was 10:30 in the morning because of his wristwatch. Thank god that the watch was waterproof.
What did that dream mean? Whose voices did he hear? And why did he see a pair of eyes? Those eyes made him feel uncomfortable.
After redoing his bedsheet belt to cover his wound properly, he walked alongside the river so he could see the hill behind which Pallet Town stood. He didn't see the dock that he jumped off last night, though. He made up his mind to go back to Pallet Town.
Before jumping, he went up the river some more so he would reach the other side before getting to the waterfall. After he thought that he had gone enough, he jumped off the cliff and swam across the river to go back to his home.
To his surprise, the current was nowhere as strong as it was last night. Maybe he was just extra-tired after yesterday's struggle.
After reaching the hilly bank, he went around the small hill. What he saw made him crumple to his knees. He saw a field of gray ash where Pallet Town used to stand.
Everything was burned down to the ground. Everything.
He saw no more of his house; no more of Professor Oak's laboratory; no more of the candy stand that he used to go to so often as a child; no more of the flower garden that used to lie in the middle of the town square.
Nothing but a flat, plain of ash. He lost all hope at that moment.
He knew that his mother was dead. Same for Professor Oak. His mother had been visiting the laboratory for the night, to talk to the professor. The lab was in the center of the town; no way could they have escaped the fire seeing just how rapidly it spread last night.
As he thought of his mother, tears welled up inside his eyes. He couldn't believe that he was sitting on and his hands were going through the grains of ash that used to be his hometown.
He just let it all go and cried his heart out, beating the ash-laden ground with his fists and crying himself to sleep.
He didn't even notice when a light drizzle started to fall, washing his mud- stained body.
***********************
This is the first part of a 3-part prologue to the story. just be patient until the prologue is up, then the story goes into the real action. ^^
Please R&R after reading!
-Latias in Space-
Fanfiction by Sung-Min Kwon. © 2003
Disclaimer: Pokemon and its associated characters are copyrighted by Nintendo, Game Freak, Creatures Inc, and 4Kids Productions.
***********************
-Conflagration-
He abruptly woke up to a loud, shattering noise, followed by a heavy thump on the floor. It sounded similar to that of breaking glass.
He sat up in his bed and looked around, but couldn't see anyone at all.
It was still pitch-black; it was still the middle of the night.
Just when it occurred to him that someone had broken into his room, he suddenly felt something sharp sink into his left side. He gasped.
Pain.
He yelled loudly. He rolled off the bed immediately and crawled under it silently, trying to momentarily forget the pain. After he was under the bed, he held his heavy breathing as best as he could, and listened.
He could hear breathing on the bed. It was breathing even louder than his. Someone had indeed broken into his room, and that someone had driven a weapon into his side.
And the weapon had actually pierced his body, because as he ran his hands over his belly, he felt a sharp point slightly protruding through the skin.
But that was better; if the dagger had gone in straight into the body, it would certainly have struck something vital.
As he pulled out the sharp device in his side, he suddenly felt blood drain from the deep wound.
He guessed that the dagger had not just gone through the skin, but also stabbed through the muscle, seeing just how much it hurt.
He plugged the wound in his side with his left hand, and probed his right hand over the weapon that had been in his side just a few moments ago.
After some examination, he found it to be a medium-length dagger. It had a short but sharp blade that could probably cut through bone. A dagger made in the style of the weapons preferred by master assassins.
He guessed that his attacker was someone who didn't have as much experience with the weapon, seeing that he was stabbed instead of slashed. He was still alive and fine, except for the deep wound in his side. He thought he would faint from the pain, which was growing stronger by the minute.
But the intense pain in his side was suddenly forgotten because of the sound of his assassin searching the floor right next to the bed to finish off the victim. This scraping sound, although not loud, made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
The assassin sounded hurried, even desperate, to find and eliminate his or her target.
Although, the assassin was literally stumbling in the dark as of now, he realized that it would be a matter of seconds before he was discovered.
Without any thinking, he sprang out from under the bed with the point of the dagger held firmly in front of him. He felt the weapon prod something soft, and he sank the dagger into the body with all his might.
Just then, he felt something sharp slash his cheek, and knew that he had received another wound, although not nearly as serious as the one in his side. He drew the dagger out of the assassin's body like a reflex.
To buy some time, he kicked the assassin with his right foot, mustering all of the strength that he could summon from his weakened body. He felt something, and knew instantly that he had connected with the head.
He caught his breath, and then leaped on the assassin, who had crumpled down on the floor when kicked straight in the face.
After taking the assassin by the arms and pinning the assassin against the wall, he repeatedly slashed the dagger at his assassin like a madman. He did this for what seemed like forever.
Ignoring the high-pitched screams of the assassin, he slashed through the soft skin many times.
He slashed faster and faster in frenzied vengeance, until he got too tired.
He then collapsed in a heap.
***********************
When he regained his senses, he was lying down on the floor covered with blood and with a dagger in his hand. The blood was from the assassin as well as himself.
He was also breathing very heavily, and could feel the pain growing in his side. The wound was bleeding again, although not as heavily as before. He took his blood-soaked sheet and tied it around his waist to stop the flow of blood.
When he looked out the window, he could see orange light that looked like sunrise had just begun. He was relieved to see the light of day.
He saw the assassin lying some distance away from him, but couldn't make out any of the features. The only thing he made out was that a woman had tried to kill him.
But then he stopped in his train of thought. It was too warm to be sunrise: it felt hotter than a summer afternoon. When he actually stuck his head out the window, he saw that his hometown was ablaze with red, evil-looking fire that danced in the middle of the pitch-black night.
What was more, he saw the fire spreading rapidly to the edges of Pallet Town, including where his own house was.
All pain forgotten, he stuffed the dagger in his belt made from his bedsheet. He darted down the stairs and burst out the door like a rocket leaving from a launching pad.
He knew that he would have to be on the other side of the river that almost entirely enveloped Pallet Town if he was to be safe.
The bridge in front of his house was already on fire, and he panicked.
He looked around, and saw that the conflagration was literally rushing toward him. Buildings in the distance were being destroyed, and burning logs were falling everywhere.
Just when he thought he saw no way of escape, he saw a small alley that was still slow in catching fire. Moreover, there were stone buildings on that alley, so he would be relatively safe, as long as there weren't any falling stones.
Knowing that was his only option and that the fire was rushing toward him even as he thought, he took action at once. He zigzagged to avoid burning houses and darted into the alley, turning corners at a wider street that lead to the other bridge. He ran through the burning street, hoping that the other bridge was not ablaze.
Just as he turned another corner, a burning piece of wood fell inches away from his feet. Out of fear, he ran faster and faster, until he got to the bridge.
To his dismay, he saw that the other bridge was on fire. He was now trapped on the small peninsula on which Pallet was built. The strip of land connecting Pallet to the mainland was all forest, which would definitely be on fire.
He now knew that he only had one choice, something that he would never to under normal circumstances. He would have to swim across the cold river that flowed by Pallet Town, and fight the extremely strong current in the middle of the river.
But he had no time to think. The fire was advancing towards him, picking up speed. He held his breath, and jumped off a nearby dock seconds before the fire overtook it.
Not looking back at his burning hometown, he began to swim across the river. The water was frigid, and it was flowing rapidly. When cold water was absorbed by the bedsheet covering the wound, his side hurt as if it was being stabbed by icicles. However, he bit his lip and kept on swimming.
In the very middle of the river, he was carried downstream by the current like a rocket. Knowing that there was a waterfall further down the river, he grabbed on to the nearest rock, breaking a fingernail in the process.
When the current let down a little, he let go of the rock to try to swim to the other side. Bad mistake.
The current was stronger than it looked, and his body was exhausted. The current carried him downriver all the same, and he saw the waterfall approaching.
Aided by a sudden burst of energy, he swam with all his strength to get out of the current. He even tried swimming upriver for a while when he got close to the cataract.
He finally got out of the current and reached the other side of the river less than a hundred feet away from the waterfall.
The other side was made up of many steep cliffs. He worked his hands raw climbing up the jagged rocks, but his mind was only focused on getting up safely and not letting go of the rocks.
If he let go of the rocks, he would probably be dashed to bits on the bottom side of the cliff. Even if he was lucky enough to land back in the river, he would inevitably travel down the waterfall.
Trying not to think of how many ways he could be killed on the way down a waterfall, he scurried up the cliff like an ant at work. When his hands finally felt grass at the top of the cliff, he made a note to himself that grass had never felt so better before.
After he scaled the cliff and dragged his body over the edge, he immediately dropped off to sleep out of extreme exhaustion.
***********************
He heard strange voices in his dream. As the voices faded out, he spotted a pair of red eyes.
***********************
Hours later, he didn't want to get up. But something didn't feel right. When he opened his eyes, he saw that one of his legs were hanging over the edge of the cliff.
He rolled like lightning away from the edge, thinking that he would not survive the trip down the cliff.
After relaxing a bit from the shock, he tried to think where he was, and why he had woken up on the edge of a fifty-foot high cliff. Then it all came back to him.
He was sure that it would be late into the morning, and the sun would be shining brightly. But there was no sun. The sky was dark and filled with black clouds, and it was still very cold, as cold as the water in the river. He could only tell that it was 10:30 in the morning because of his wristwatch. Thank god that the watch was waterproof.
What did that dream mean? Whose voices did he hear? And why did he see a pair of eyes? Those eyes made him feel uncomfortable.
After redoing his bedsheet belt to cover his wound properly, he walked alongside the river so he could see the hill behind which Pallet Town stood. He didn't see the dock that he jumped off last night, though. He made up his mind to go back to Pallet Town.
Before jumping, he went up the river some more so he would reach the other side before getting to the waterfall. After he thought that he had gone enough, he jumped off the cliff and swam across the river to go back to his home.
To his surprise, the current was nowhere as strong as it was last night. Maybe he was just extra-tired after yesterday's struggle.
After reaching the hilly bank, he went around the small hill. What he saw made him crumple to his knees. He saw a field of gray ash where Pallet Town used to stand.
Everything was burned down to the ground. Everything.
He saw no more of his house; no more of Professor Oak's laboratory; no more of the candy stand that he used to go to so often as a child; no more of the flower garden that used to lie in the middle of the town square.
Nothing but a flat, plain of ash. He lost all hope at that moment.
He knew that his mother was dead. Same for Professor Oak. His mother had been visiting the laboratory for the night, to talk to the professor. The lab was in the center of the town; no way could they have escaped the fire seeing just how rapidly it spread last night.
As he thought of his mother, tears welled up inside his eyes. He couldn't believe that he was sitting on and his hands were going through the grains of ash that used to be his hometown.
He just let it all go and cried his heart out, beating the ash-laden ground with his fists and crying himself to sleep.
He didn't even notice when a light drizzle started to fall, washing his mud- stained body.
***********************
This is the first part of a 3-part prologue to the story. just be patient until the prologue is up, then the story goes into the real action. ^^
Please R&R after reading!
-Latias in Space-