The Gift - [Short Story]
Apr 18, 2019 19:30:42 GMT
Post by Cavespider_17 on Apr 18, 2019 19:30:42 GMT
Summary
Edmund is a pure fighting type - or so he is told. In a world where Psychic powers are banned he must submit to the elder's whim. However, his problems start when his dreams appear to become reality. Meanwhile, the elders have detected a strange aura emanating from him. Exiled and no where to go, Edmund must rediscover what it truly means to be a Gallade.
Warnings
- Violence and Executions
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1 - The Nightmares
The dark night loomed overhead. The daylight mon-swarming streets were deserted. There was nothingness. A whistle in the night made anyone watching the crumbling cobblestone streets twitch. As the unsettling wind sung its whistle louder it brushed against the sides of the old thatched houses of Melindorf.
Melindorf roofs were often thatched with a thick black straw that, if one wasn’t careful enough, would over ones skin in a charcoal mess. It wasn’t very flattering to the wispy white bricks that sat lined up like soldiers, which formed the house itself. The windows were always dark tinted in Melindorf, to stop the psychics, the ‘oh so evil psychics’, from looking in at what the inhabitants were doing.
The illegal psychics.
They hadn’t been seen for years. Assumed all to be vanquished, or banished into the mountain by the elders of Melindorf. The lead elder was a Swampert named Vigour – or at least that is what he told everyone. His blue and white soft skinned looking body was not what it seemed. Mocking him for his ragged appearance left his face steamed up, angry and he would then use scald on the mocker's faces. They would be left blind for their crime of merely mocking him. Suspected Psychics had it far worse.
Edmund was on his way to witness his first psychic trial. Although, the elders had no solid proof of their psychic activities, he was still thrilled to see their execution, as was the rest of the town. He sigh as he waved his long green bladed arms, and stood proud on his thin white legs. His red eyes focused forward like any Kirlia entering the fighting ring should be. He walked up to the edge of the dark arena, where the psychic was supposedly being held.
“Hey, I can’t… I can’t see!” he said, trying to peer over the head of the Armaldo standing in front of him.
He swished his grey scaly tail back and forwards quickly with excitement, almost knocking Edmund over.
“Hey, Mr. Rocksworth… I can’t see!” he shouted again.
“Huh? Oh, hello Edmund, I guess you are now old enough to see one of these, huh? You were just a baby Ralts when the last one of these happened, maybe you were two or three years old and I was still working down at the old bank. That reminds me of the time that old Swanna started to count all her change Merin coin by Merin coin. It was a nice summer’s day and I-” Mr. Rocksworth started.
“Yes, Mr. Rocksworth, I am sure it is a great story, but right now… I really want to see this… it is my first one, please… let me see it…” Edmund pleaded, desperate to see what is going on.
“Sorry Edmund, here…” The large Armaldo stepped aside, allowing Edmund to rush through so he could hear the victim talking.
“I says I is innocent of hurting people, I never hurt no one, I just am a psychic. Why does you crazy people have something againsts I?” a Wobbuffet said, as he was tied to the post.
Quickly the Wobbuffet used counter and flipped the Bisharp trying to tie him up onto the floor, but was quickly restrained by a Gengar, who chuckled at the Wobuffet’s fortune.
‘Helps me,’ Edmund heard.
“Help you with what?” Edmund answered.
“Nothing kiddo, I didn’t say anything,” Mr. Rocksworth said, looking at Edmund.
“Oh, I guess I am just tired sir,” Edmund quickly replied, shaking his head.
‘They can’t hear me, only yous can, Kirlia. Helps me…’ Edmund heard again.
He chose to ignore the noise and focus on the dark pulse that was being used to ram into the Wobbuffet’s body, like a feral Hydreigon, chasing down a Rattata to chomp on, and then rip to shreds using their sharp pearly white teeth.
Edmund felt a tinging feeling in his head, as the Wobbuffet started to wheeze, dying. He collapsed on the floor.
‘Edmund? What are you doing? Ha ha. That’s it, lift the block and… no, don’t kick it… ha ha… some day you will-’
***
He woke. His head ached as he sat up in bed before slumping his aching head back down against the pillow, sore.
“Edmund? Honey, are you okay?” a Lycanroc leaned over him. Her red and white fur smelt of roses and jam – she smelt like home.
“I am okay ma. What happened?” Edmund asked.
“You fainted. Mr. Rocksworth said you c-” his mother started but was interrupted.
“You heard the psychic. He was trying to unstable your nerves. They do that sometimes. You are young, vulnerable, easily to manipulate,” Elder Zieg said, flapping his wings before landing his rocky Aerodactyl body. “Don’t worry Edmund, it won’t happen again. Take these, every night from now on. No psychic will get into your mind again. You have my word.”
