09-12-2011, 03:55 PM | #1 |
It's the yearly visit!
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Frantic Typing of a Fifteen Year Old
Handy's Workshop Welcome, one and all, to the frantic typing of a fifteen year old wannabe author. My name's Handy, and I like to write. This is sort of a studioish thing for me. I'll post full stories here (likely if they're fanfiction), and may post snippets of the actual work I'm doing in an attempt to eventually gain some credibility and be an author, but never a significant chunk. We need more fanfiction representation, and I intend to bring it! Hope you enjoy. Current Projects Seasons: A collection of short stories based on a minor character that I for some reason felt needed developing. His life in four little snippets, from young child to old man. Literally writing this as of now, so expect the first part within a reasonable amount of time. Strings: My Nanowrimo novel of 2010, as well as my project over the last year or so. Reasonably close to completion, and I'm really proud of it. May post snippets here. Abandoned Projects The Wall: My first Pokemon fanfiction. It followed the lives of a group of different characters as revolution spread through their city. The Prologue of which is included in this post. Abandoned due to me suddenly losing interest in it due to lack of reviews, as any weak minded teen would. Wrote a few chapters. Could revisit in future, though potentially as proper fiction rather than fanfiction, as the Pokemon aspect felt forced. Future Projects TRASH: Everyone has baggage. The story of three children from completely different backgrounds who end up on the same train together into Unova. They form a group, despite their obvious differences, and journey together through the region. Though, with Team Plasma's riots growing larger and more people being swayed to their cause, could the trio's journey be cut short after some foolish intervening? Remotely standard journey fic, felt like I needed to write one. Until Seasons: Spring is posted, please enjoy the Prologue of the unfinished fanfic, the Wall. Not a bad piece of work for a first try. Spoiler: show |
11-29-2011, 02:50 PM | #2 |
It's the yearly visit!
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Howdy, gang. Seasons will be coming eventually, I don't doubt, but I decided to post this first. Basically, I needed something to distract me from my Nano novel, so wrote this to get a bit of my word count up. It's the first chapter of a fanfiction I'm working on. I haven't actually really looked through beyond a browse for spelling/grammar mistakes, so be kind. If there's anything glaringly bad, I'll change it probably Thursday or so. But for now, enjoy!
---- As he stared into her dead, brown eyes, he realised he'd lost the thing he loved the most. How it had ended like this, he didn't know. How it had arrived at the point where the two friends stood, each with a gun in their hand, was alien to him. The most tragic thing was not the dead girl lying on the floor, but how when he looked deep into himself for regret and grief, he found nothing. He sickeningly acknowledged that he wouldn't have changed a thing. Heck, everyone had baggage. Trash Part One: Street Trash It was a bitterly cold morning in Anchor Town. Frost settled on the ground as the residents went about their daily business. The dreary conditions had dampened the spirit of the community, as they often did. It was the kind of weather that brought everyone down; not quite snow, yet too cold to head out and enjoy yourself. Regardless, the people of the town had work to do and there was no time for milling around and feeling sorry for themselves. Unless, of course, you were a fifteen year old boy who was set to go out on a journey tomorrow. Coincidentally, that was Micky's exact situation. The brunette kicked aimlessly at a can, sending it rolling across the floor in front of him. His green, alert eyes scanned the area. People went about their daily businesses on the estate, working in any way they could to pay the rent. He heard one man mention that the prices had been increased this morning. That was the third time this month. He spat. Didn't the Gales know what this was doing to their people? He leapt from his perch, landing on the ground with a thump. He had been sitting in that tree for a few hours now, simply watching the people at work. He knew he was on borrowed time, so intended to spend as much of it as possible on remembering the little things about this place. Arcues knew how long he'd be away from here. Over the last few days, he had accumulated a wide range of memories of the town in which he'd grown up. He'd spoken to most of the people he could find, talking about their heritages and just thanking them for being there. Every one of them, however unimportant, had played a part in shaping who he was today. The Town itself was not really a town, but more of a plot of land which rich people set their toys to work on. The whole area was owned by the Gale family, a group of snobs who lived in a manor miles away from the settlement. The people of the town created food, clean water, clothes, anything that the overlords wanted in exchange for permission to live on the land. To be fair to them, the Gales were generous people in the past. Recently, they found themselves wanting for money after a deal gone wrong, so had adjusted their fairs accordingly. In front of him, a small creature scuttled along the ground. Its brown and white fur shook as it zigzagged along. Where it thought it was going, Micky had little idea. The creatures were rodents, intelligent rodents sure, but still scum that got in the way of the upper beings wishes. Just like him, he mused. No doubt he was seen as the Zigzagoon of the Gale land. He could dig that. “Michael,” he heard from behind, and inclined his head in that general direction, “I thought I'd find you here.” The voice soothed his eardrums like birdsong. “Good morning, Daisy.” he smiled at her, turning around to face her fully. His young sister was probably what he'd miss the most about Anchor Town. His parents were too busy to socialise with their middle child, and Mick had lost his older brother to the Gales years back. She was the only link to his family that he had left. “I trust you slept well?” “Fine thank you.” She chimed sweetly. “Dad was wondering if you wanted to open presents now or later?” “Has Gareth arrived yet?” he said as a response. “No. I'll let you know when he does.” She said, smiling sweetly, turning, and skipping away through the frosty terrain. He watched her depart, her white dress vaguely camouflaging her with the frost, yet contrasting completely with her dark black hair. She, unlike him, had inherited their mothers looks. His mother was a beautiful woman, from what he could remember. He would have to seek her out on his journeys. If Gareth hadn't arrived yet, he still had an hour or so to kill. He decided to take a jog into the heart of town, seeing if anything at the market picked his fancy. Moving at a steady pace, he examined the early morning crowd. There was no use for tardiness in Anchor, so everyone had gotten up nice and early to prepare for the Sunday Market. It wasn't as if the market drew in a massive amount of travellers. Anchor was in the middle of the Estate territory, which though it had its own few gyms, was not an ideal place for trainers. There wasn't enough diversity and that bored them. Despite its bad reputation in the leagues eyes, that didn't mean there were a lack of Pokemon around. In fact, due to the whims of the Gales, there was actually a large amount of eco diversity in the surrounding areas, due to Pokemon escaping from their gardens and breeding in the nearby woods. Machop took strides along the marketplace, lifting heavy boxes of fruit and veg. Chimecho hung happily from the fortune teller's shack. Starly flew across the centre, ruffling their black feathers vainly. Overall, the Pokemon integrated into a key part of the community. Micky looked from stall to stall, hoping to find some good products. He calmly grabbed an apple from the fresh fruit isle, chucking a coin across the counter to the napping store owner. Ignoring the fortune teller completely (as he had learned not to believe such nonsense), he made his way to the exotic imports booth, which was usually where the fun lied. Sadly, there seemed to be nothing of interest on display for today. How dull. Turning around, he decided to head back home. If he walked at a slow pace, he'd arrive just on time for his brother, he suspected. The teen was a naturally tardy person, that hadn't changed, but hopefully he'd know better than to miss his kid brothers birthday. Otherwise, there would never be any reconciliation between them. He got lucky. Rather than meeting him at the house, he saw the familiar flash of red on route. The rich garbs of a Gale stable boy were unmistakable, and the flaming steed on which he rode was equally impressive. The white horse noticed Micky from afar, and made its way towards him without instruction, nuzzling with the boy upon contact. “Easy, love.” he murmured to the Ponyta as it rubbed its head against his body. “Happy birthday, squirt.” The oddly adult voice of Gareth wafted down. Micky looked up to meet his brothers eyes. They were green, like his, but showed a definite tiredness about them. His brown hair was curled, unlike his and Daisy's dead straightness, and his body showed a dedication to fitness. He had to be fit in order to keep his position; there was countless boys willing to do anything to get a job at the Gale family house. “I got you a present.” he smiled, reaching down into his pocket. “Let's wait until we get home.” Micky countered abruptly. “I'd rather everyone saw it, so they could marvel at how rich and sophisticated it was, and how dedicated a brother you are.” “Easy now, kid. What did I do?” Gareth questioned, concern visible on his face. He really didn't know. “Oh, nothing. Just wanted to remark on your sibling skills. Anyway, show me the present, then.” Gareth frowned. But his confusion went away when he reached down into his pocket. “Close your eyes.” he said, and Micky complied. He felt the orbular object fall into his hand. There was no doubt about what it was. His hands felt the cool, multicoloured surface of the object, feeling for the central button. “Don't open it yet.” He continued, “I need to talk to you first.” Micky stood there for a few seconds. “Oh, right, eyes open.” Micky did as instructed, and sure enough, there was the pokeball in his hand. The small, red and white object was a container for Pokemon like the ones he'd seen earlier. Due to the standard model, he assumed it was a low level creature inside. “So, what do you want to talk about?” he asked, as the pair began to head towards Micky's home. “I need you to understand why I picked the Pokemon that I did for you.” He started simply. That was fair enough. “I chose it to prove a point, really, to you and to me. The Pokemon in there... you might get a bit of slack for it, and I'm sorry about that. But it'll be worth it. I promise.” Micky frowned. He was starting to get worried now. “The Gale family are arseholes, Mick.” That comment took him by surprise. “Agreed. How's that relevant?” “It just is. They're arseholes, and that really pisses me off. The rich, I mean. They're just big bullies, to be frank. They hoard all the resources for themselves, dress up in fancy gowns, and suddenly they're better people than us. It's just not true. If anything, they're worse people than us, because we let them take the goods. We do all the hard work, and let them reap the benefits. If we were to just stand up to them...” He paused, looking out ahead into the distance, as if he was searching for someone listening in. “Revolution is what we need. If everyone was to just stand up to the man, then we would be free of them. That would be magnificent.” “You need to understand, kiddo, that I had no choice but to work for them. If I hadn't, dad wouldn't be able to look after you and Daisy. I couldn't let that happen. This way, you can go out and live your dreams. You can prove that we don't need fancy clothes to rock the world over. I know you can do it. I'm quite sure of it.” He finished, looking intently at his brother. “Can I open it now?” he asked with a look of hope on his face. He wasn't ambitious, though. Maybe a nice Pidgey or something basic to prove his point. He could work with a Pidgey. Pidgeots were brave, strong birds, as far as he knew. Even a Magikarp could evolve into a mighty beast. “Go ahead. Let's see what you think.” Micky pressed the button on the centre of the pokeball. The jet of light shot out as the ball expanded, forming into... some sort of shape. “Well, that's rubbish.” ------------------- Part Two: The Duke Duke examined his kingdom. Well, technically, he wasn't a king. And technically, it wasn't really his yet. But a boy could dream. In fact, that was one of the few things he was entitled to at this stage of his life. That, and hate. Boy, could he hate. He hated his father, for one. The man seemed intent on doing everything in his power to keep the boy from claiming his inheritance. Naturally, he wasn't expecting a penny until his fathers death. That was to be expected. But to put a back-up clause that prevented him inheriting the wealth until he was at least thirty and proven to be of sound character? Ridiculous. He was never going to go as far as killing the man for his inheritance. However much he despised the man, family was family, and he was not a murderer. There were alternative plans in place that would soon come to fruition. When they did, he would no longer have to rely on his patience. Waiting for fifteen more years was not something that appealed to the boy. His father was dying, that was undoubtable. If he were to survive to the time he was thirty, then he would have no issue. It was just limbo that he had a problem with. He was an impatient child. Looking around his room, Ellis saw a lot of things worth a lot of money. His gold headstand, for one, which he rested his crown on, was worth an extraordinary amount of money. His cabinets were made of oak imported from the Kanto region. His wall decorations were all exquisitely hand carved, formed in the shape of various marble Pokemon. He had everything that a young Duke could want in his room. He was not a Duke yet, however. The boy's childhood had been unfortunate in a variety of ways, he thought. Living in a secluded mansion in the middle of nowhere left little friends for him to play with. That had left the teen very bitter towards his peers; why should they get to have all the fun when he was the most important of them all? Gale, that name carried pride, far more so than the commoners' names like Carpenter and Smith. They were named after jobs, meaningless professions that most of them didn't even stick to. He was named after the wind, unchanging, unyielding, and bound by no master. Gale, that was pure power. His interactions with the lower class had been mostly uninteresting affairs. They seemed thoroughly uninteresting people. They lived their mundane lives, never changing, working day after day without even the slightest glimpse of the greater picture. It wasn't their fault that they were born scum, he supposed, though that didn't make them any less trashy. The poor, his father had once said, were like bread. You could cut it. You could serve it. You could take it anyway you like. It's still bread, however, and once its passed its expiration, it should be set aside for fresher loaves. You could make men just as easily as you could brake them, he had also said. No single member of staff had lasted a long period at the manor, he always informed the new maids. His father was a fickle man, and even the slightest hint of bad workmanship, and they vanished, never to be seen here again. That was a useful life lesson for him. It taught him the cruelty of those at the top. Therefore, he didn't feel the slightest tinge of guilt about what he was intending to do today. Really, his father had brought it upon himself. The man had treated him too poorly for too long. He just needed the right moment to strike. The right moment came upon him rather sooner than he thought it would. His father was at his daily visit to the doctors. Though the man had accepted long ago that his time in this world was limited, he still wanted to remain visibly strong to his people. Ellis thought that was stupid. His people didn't care what he looked like as long as he kept the money flowing in. Fortunately, it left a perfect opportunity for him to make his move. Up until now, it had been impossible to leave. One of father's whipping boys, Gareth was his name, was a persistent pair of eyes on the southern exit of the house. If he was there, he could alert the Duke and have Ellis brought back here without even the slightest of concern. The man had headed home for some event or the other, so the guard was luckily absent. As such, this was the perfect time. He kicked his legs up, jumping off of his bed and landing on the floor elegantly. Reaching down under his bed, he brought out his fully packed suitcase. It contained all the essentials needed for survival on the road; food, water, plenty of money, everything he needed to self sustain himself. There were a few key ingredients missing from his troublesome soufflé, and he intended to find them. The first piece was relative easy to find. Heading out of his room, he stared down the long, marble corridor that proceeded him. It was a very beautiful house that he lived in. It was made of the finest materials that money could buy. And yet, it was the place that he wanted to live in least right now. The decorative halls held nothing of value to him. Its grand and large nature only highlighted how small and insignificant he was. He needed to matter, and if his father couldn't give that to him yet, then he would have to earn it himself. He walked down the hallway, perfectly calm, not betraying even the slightest of emotion. He had to remain calm and focussed if he was going to pull this off. Looking from left to right, he saw no one looking out for him. That was good, he didn't want to resort to violence. As disgusting as the lower class was, he still had a certain fondness for them. To some extent, at least. He continued down the hallway until he reached a grand staircase, the bannister made of pure gold. The materials of the towns had all been brought here when the Gales took control, and were ornately designed into a perfect dwelling. In some instances, this house was also used as a Pokemon Gym. His father was in no fit state to battle challengers at the moment, and anyway, nobody bothered with the Estate District any more. They, like he, found it dull. He made his way up the stairs, his feet tiptoeing so as not to alert passer bys. He was almost certain that everyone had left the house earlier with his father or for their own personal feelings. Poor security. Tut tut, father.. As he reached the landing, he headed straight for the largest doors, pushing them open as quietly as he could. It wasn't easy, they were quite big. Looking from left to right, he saw precisely what he was looking for. There, on the top of the table, sat an egg. This was no Pokemon egg. If it was to hatch into something, whatever came out would surely be the most beautiful thing alive. The item was pure, solid gold. It shimmered in the sunlight of the French windows as he put his hands around it. Lifting the egg up, he put the cold, gold object against his skin. It chilled him to the bone. He knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew that his father would go mad upon finding his prize taken by the boy he trusted the most. It wasn't personal, but it had to happen. It was necessary. He placed the egg inside his bag, making sure to wrap it up tightly. It wouldn't do to harm it. Following that, there was only two more pieces of the puzzle left. One was found on the dresser. It was his father's wallet, and had all the identification he would need to travel the world. The second was downstairs, though he wasn't sure where. He left the room, closing the large doors behind him. Sliding down the bannisters, he landed on the ground floor with a bump. As far as he was aware, the last item would be found in his fathers coat. Sure enough, in the pocket of the large, black jacket, he found what he was looking for. Holding the sphere in his hands, he admired its simple design. Due to the Pokemon having been recently taken from the breeders, it was the standard capsule of the Daycare. That suited him just fine; he didn't want to stand out from the crowd. “Well then, I guess this is it.” he murmured to nobody in general. Ellis Gale opened the door. ----------------- Part Three: The Sacrifice Her whole life, she had lived in the shadow of a greater glory. It wasn't exclusively her burden to bare. Everyone in the world suffered a heavy heart, knowing that salvation lay just out of reach. She was one of the lucky few. She knew enough about the world to understand how futile humanity was, and how important the word of the lord was. There was only one, true way to talk to these people. She had to go out and talk to them on their own terms, spread the message in her own way. The people around her was enlightened like her, but they didn't get people like she did. They thought that by droning on and on, people would wither down and eventually listen to anything that you tell them. For some people this did work. She didn't wish to underplay the success of old. She simply wanted to outdo that success. Remedy where the temple was going wrong, and seek to improve upon past accomplishments. “There are two types of people in this world,” the voice droned on ahead of her. “There are those who have accepted the word of Arceus. Those who have realised their mistakes, and atoned for their sins in the eyes of the creator. Then, there are the unenlightened. Those who murder, steal, rape and commit all the crimes that the lord disputes.” She nodded in appreciation. Those were words to live by. They were just being said out of the wrong mouth, and in the wrong way. The man continued, looking around at his parish. Of their branch, only around two of them were paying attention, Natalie included. The temple was bored, she knew. The preacher knew that too. “Arceus teaches us that we should be strong. That we should listen to what he tells us, and we should follow in his footsteps. He instructs us...” The doors of the temple flung open with a clattering sound. A man walked in, eyes focussed on the man at the front of the church. He prowled past her, ignoring the red head completely. The first thing that she noticed about the man was his fashion sense. He was adorned in long, red robes, with no visible hair displayed. He ignored the congregation and the fact that the church was still in session. “Come with me.” he said frankly to the priest. “Of course, Giallo. I did not expect to see you here.” So that was his name. She didn't recognise it, but that wasn't a surprise. She was a small town girl, and had no clue about the higher ups politics. All she knew was how her religion worked, and how to talk to people. The pair departed for the back of the temple, speaking in hushed voices. After a few moments, she stood, and followed them. Curiosity had always been one of her weak points. She always wanted to know what was going on in a situation. Otherwise, she felt that she often ended up humiliated and without a clue of anything. She pressed her ears to the temple back, listening to the older men talk. “The church is shifting, my friend. The time has come for which we have been preparing. The chosen one has come forth, and with him, a new generation of spiritual enlightenment shall come.” “You know that I was never one of the prophets, Giallo. I'm not sure if I believe in what you're saying.” he responded honestly. “Ah, but I represent the church, and so does he. You believe in the church do you not?” “Well, um, yes, but what I'm saying is that-” “Good, good. Well, here are the new scriptures. Learn them by heart.” Then, without a fuss, the man exited using the rear. He was gone almost as quickly as he came. He left behind a very flustered and confused priest, who sat down, stress lines evident on his face. When she saw it was safe to enter, she did so. When she was inside, she saw how bad a condition he was in. He had clearly started to cry, overwhelmed by the new changes she assumed. He was muttering to himself, complaining about something being all wrong. “Are you all right, sir?” She asked as sweetly as she could manage. “No, it's not, Nat, and that's the truth. These rascals have completely manipulated the teaching... I can't preach this. It goes against everything that I've ever stood for. Take a look, see if you can see some sense in the damned things.” He passed the scroll over in more of a throw than anything. That was rather odd for a series of religious documents. The first rule of the new order is as follows; all orders come from N, the representative of Arceus on the earth. He is the beacon that will light the way. He is the one that Ghetsis foresaw, all those years ago. He will redeem his people and the word will reach all. The second order is this; All Pokemon shall be released from their owners captivity. Too long have humanity enslaved those that Arceus considers to be friends. Release them now, or let God's judgement come down on you. She looked up from the scrolls, barely believing what she was reading. It was wrong. All of it. That man had come in here and ripped apart all the religion she'd ever known. He was wrong, and she could tell that. Would the religion really buy into this? The scripture had told them that the Pokeball was provided as a bridge between the two worlds. For this crap to spout out about freeing their slaves was wrong. She felt her faith drifting away from her as she sat down, numbing to her feelings. “How could they do this?” She asked, though she was unsure whether she was speaking to god or man. “I don't know, dear. The prophesy is clearly supporting this N to lead us into a new age, but I never believed in the prophesier. This only proves what I had always suspected. This man is to lead our religion into an unrecognisable, egoistic state of his own chosing. I won't stand for it anymore. I'm going to resign, I've decided.” She felt tears welling up in her eyes as he finished. He had always been such a firm fixture to her, and to see him like this... “No, no, you musn't resign. Otherwise, how will the people hear the message? We need you to keep preaching the truth so that they won't be led astray. People fall in like Mareep when shown a figure of high power to stand behind. I'll deal with this. I'll do what I have to do to make the world see that what's happening is wrong. I'll... I'll head out, across the whole world if I have to. The people must know that this man is ruining everything for them.” She stopped, having convinced herself. “I'll need a Pokemon.” |
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