Author's Notes:
This is the product of me exploring and trying my hand on the horror-genre. I am no professional writer and Pokémon isn't the ideal line for a horror story (imo) so please take it easy on me if you plan on criticizing. Regardless, reviews, feedback, and critiques are very welcome. Thanks in advance for reading!
- A Gust of Wind -
"Be sure to listen to the Surfing instructor!" said a woman to her child as she stirs on a pot of Tamato Berry sauce.
"I will, mom. Geez!" replied the young one. Seeing how the he clumsily sifted through his chaotic-mess-of-a-bag made his mother grow more concerned.
"I'm sorry, but you don't even have your own Pokémon yet. I can't help but worry that you won't be experienced enough to handle a Mantine! I might call your father to-"
"…but Mantine Surfing is the one of the coolest things to do while in Alola vacation! Dad said the Kahuna would let me ride it for one trip and back! They know what they're doing. Maybe even a professional will ride with me," ranted the boy. "Besides, it's not my fault I don't have a Pokémon yet."
"Don't start talking smart to me, young man!" his mother commanded. She sighed and walked toward her son and stretched her arms outward for a hug. "You just be careful, okay?"
The boy complied shortly before saying, "alright, mom, that sauce ain't gonna stir itself."
She simply smiled, gave her son a peck on the forehead, and went back to the active stove.
*CLUD*
The boy closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath of the outdoor air soon after. The island breeze was stronger than usual today but the boy paid no mind. He went on to their garage and grabbed his bicycle. "Just a mile or two to the beach," he thought.
*KRING* *KRING*
The boy rang his bicycle's bell out of boredom. The trail was linear and there were no passersby in sight. He had to shift left and right just to add 'entertainment' to the long, straight line. Eventually, a small figure in the distance met the youngster's eyes. Even by squinting, he couldn't get a good idea what it was but it was clearly a Pokémon. A zephyr blew perpendicular to the boy's direction, taking his focus off of the distant creature and his balance with it. He wasn't knocked off of his bike, but he steered frantically to keep him and the bicycle upright. As soon as he regained steadiness, he wanted to set his gaze back at the far being on the horizon. To his surprise, it was closer than he expected.
He was right; it was a Pokémon! It was a Pichu and an adorable one at that. "Then again," he thought, "all Pichus are adorable!"
He tried to brake to a stop before he got close. Dashing with a Mach Bike behind a small Pokémon like Pichu will definitely startle it, he thought. He stopped and dropped his bike a few meters back. With its back turned, the Pokémon was unaware of the kid's presence. "Shoot, I don't have Pokéballs. I don't even have a Pokémon to weaken it for capture!" the boy muttered under his breath.
He must've underestimated the creature's sense of hearing as it was sharp enough to pick up what the boy whispered even from a distance like that. It turned around and started to flee. Again, the wind started blowing against the side of both the human and the Pokémon. The boy couldn't believe what he saw: the Pichu bent its upper half to the left and right as it sprinted away from him. It was a display not unlike how his elders try to ambulate under the punch of alcohol.
Suddenly, the wind howled louder and moved swifter…enough to let the young one witness another peculiar display. The running Pokémon was now a solid-black shadowy figure of a very small child. It was smaller than an infant, but its bodily proportions were that of a preschooler or slightly older: longer limbs and a chest wider than the head…the head that had a Pichu hat or mask to cover it. The boy figured that it must have been an illusion as an innate form of self-defense. He went to his bicycle to try and chase after it, but the figure vanished from view.
Dumbfounded, curious, and disappointed, he rode to the beach anyway. The travel seemed short enough given that he had that aforementioned event to occupy his thoughts.
"There you are kiddo!" shouted a man from a blue-colored tent who was now jogging toward the youngster. "Sorry, I couldn't wait for you at the cabin. I had to make sure they actually reserved that big ol' Mantine and their best rider on it for you. Winds are zooming today, though."
"It'll be fine dad. The waves don't look like a Wailord caused 'em," said the boy hastily, hoping to egg his father into getting him a Surf ride.
"Let's just ask them…put my mind to ease at least," replied his father as he beckoned his son to approach the Mantine and the Surfer. "Hey, Flip. You sure the waves are safe enough?"
The rider, Flip, petting his Water-type Pokémon, crowed, "Folks don't call me 'Flip' for nothing, you know. Jetty and I got this. It's a just short sesh anyway."
The concerned father asked, "Can't you at least don a tube or a life-vest on him?"
"They're too bulky and got nothin' but air in 'em for a sport that makes you fight the sea-breeze. It slows Jet down and knocks him off-momentum. It's true for all Mantines and some surfers. Now come on, Management hasn't called the Surfers back yet."
The boy eagerly hops into the shallow waters while the Surfer follows. He is picked up by his armpits and hoisted onto the saddle of Jetty the Mantine. "Just be sure to cling to the handle. Don't let go. Jetty'll beam you out of the water if anything goes south."
The boy replied with a nod. With that, they zip toward deeper waters and on the side of an amassing wave, leaving behind a father still being eaten at by worry. The Surfer pitches left and right to pick up speed much to the boy's amusement as he savors the taste of every moment and the salty air combing his skin.
Something in the waters intrigues him through his peripheral vision. A faint silhouette of a Pichu…the one he saw earlier. He couldn't see any of its limbs moving, except for a short extremity that appears to be connected to his shadow…or maybe Mantine's…the boy wasn't sure. "It must have followed me," he thought. "That Pichu will drown!"
"Wait!" he exclaimed, alarming the Surfer in front. In an attempt to reach out to the Pokémon inside the wave, the boy stretches his right arm into the water. The Surfer yells, "KEEP YOUR HANDS ON THE HANDLE!" while juggling his attention between the view in front and whatever the kid was doing. Unfortunately, the rolling brine and the bolting Water-type made the lad lose grip of the slippery support of the saddle. He is now engulfed by the sea.
It was cold. It was dark. His nose burned like a Magmar – no, a Magmortar – but he couldn't smell smoke…or anything at all. A faint glow sparked in the distance. He walked toward it, but it didn't feel like his legs were moving. As he trekked closer, the scenery was all too familiar: a room with one four-pane window, red curtains with Staryu prints, Pokémon dolls scattered about, and a large mirror. He was peering at the interior through a door to his 'room'. He crept inside only to find another door frame where his mirror was originally. Curious, he stepped toward and out of the mirror-turned-door…but murmurs behind him called his attention. He turned to see two gigantic human eyes staring blankly at him from the wall beside his bed. Lying on top of it was…himself. His clone looked like he was wide awake with gapingly open eyes, but the way he breathed was like that of a sleeping person's. The large wall-eyes started to cry black shadows that turned in to several arms, and then into claws; they were slowly edging towards his doppelganger's motionless awake-but-asleep body. Instinctively, the young one waved his arms and jumped up to grab his copy's attention to warn him. He tried to run to the bed but it was like chasing a distant mountain in the horizon. Helpless and left with no other option, he closed his eyes tightly shut to brace himself for the loudest scream he would ever make in an attempt to wake his clone or snap himself out of that horrible lucid dream.
No sound let loose. Once again, he couldn't see a thing. He couldn't feel anything other than cold. Wait…he felt…something tingly on his back. Not just on his back, but on his arms and legs as well. Then, he felt like something was punching his chest. Finally, an itch in his throat-
*COUGH* *COUGH*
Saltwater gushed out of the youth's mouth as his body impulsively makes him hack strongly. He opens his eyes to a stranger and his father looking down at him. Flip was there, too, among the crowd of spectators around him. The kid's father exhaled loudly in relief then quickly fumed with anger, lashing out at the Surfer and his co-workers. Their argument seemed like it was cut-off previously as if they had already feuded earlier.
The stranger that revived him was clearly spewing out words, but the boy couldn't comprehend what he was saying. It looked like he was in shock after nearly being asphyxiated by the ocean…or was it the odd Pichu that stupefied him? Part of him argued that what he saw was only a trick of the mind, the other claims it was all real. No Pichu would shapeshift into a child…and no Pichu would follow him to the beach and the sea all while evading the eyes of everyone he passed by.
It felt like an eternity, all of it. How he forks away at his unfinished plate of dinner, how the yelling from his parents echoes throughout the house, how stupid or natural it was for him to try and rescue the seemingly-diving Electric-type, and how he saw himself on his bed and in his room as eyes grab a hold of his other body…all of it made him crave solitude and silence. So, he marched up the stairs and into his room. The lights were off; only the glow of the moon that shone from the open, red curtains brightened the enclosure. The youngling lay on his bed mind-blown by the waves…the Pichu…
…the eyes…
Out of fear, he tried to hop off quickly out of his bed…to no avail. He lay unmoving against his will. The boy tried to scream but his mouth wouldn't open. He turned his gaze onto the bedside wall. Surely enough, the humongous eyes were there and they were glaring at him from a diagonal angle. He felt fingers painfully scratch their way onto his face, his eyes. They clawed even onto his forehead until they covered part of his vision. With his neck stiff and scratched, he could only see some parts of his room…his mirror. Instead of any reflection, the mirror displayed a haunting exhibit...
...a pitch-black figure of a boy; it was waving its arms frantically.
[Pokémon Ultra Moon Version: Alola Pokédex Entry #315] - A gust of wind revealed what hides under this Pokémon's rag to a passing Trainer, who went home and died painfully that very night.
