Dramatic Melody
mud?
Just like my previous one-shot, Berries, this bore out of being tired from my required writing. Unlike Berries, though, this is a much lighter one-shot, and there isn't any abuse or dark themes here.
Okay, maybe some dark themes, as this does reference the Pokedex entry of Drifloon, which says that it brings children to the underworld. That's where the idea of this one-shot came from, really, as I found that prospect really interesting. And when the Perspective one-shot contest started, I thought that it would be great to incorporate that Pokedex entry with the Drifloon you see on Valley Windworks every Friday.
I obviously didn't finish the story in time for the contest, but I did finish it, so enjoy.
Okay, maybe some dark themes, as this does reference the Pokedex entry of Drifloon, which says that it brings children to the underworld. That's where the idea of this one-shot came from, really, as I found that prospect really interesting. And when the Perspective one-shot contest started, I thought that it would be great to incorporate that Pokedex entry with the Drifloon you see on Valley Windworks every Friday.
I obviously didn't finish the story in time for the contest, but I did finish it, so enjoy.
A Friday
She wore pink that Friday.
Everything about her was pink. Her flowing dress that stopped halfway through her knees. Her silk bow that perched lazily on her hair. Her pearl necklace that swayed to the rhythm of her walking. Her beaded bracelets that she toyed with every now and then. Her strapped sandals that got dirty from all the mud she ran through. Her socks that slightly peeped out of her feet. Her tongue that stuck out from her mouth as she ran around the field. Her cheeks that looked like Cherrims on a sunny day. Her smile that made that particular sunny day seem sunnier.
She looked at me with curious eyes, both her eyebrows slightly raised and her mouth slightly agape. She took slow, careful steps forward, away from the massive structure looming behind her and through the grass that rustled beneath her sandals. In time she was near me, about three feet away, and her pink self was as puzzled as ever.
I lifted up an arm to greet her. She responded by running back to the massive structure screaming “Daddy!”
She would do, I decided.
I had been looking for the perfect child to bring with me in the days before, and all the children I had found had all been the same – timid, lonely, lifeless. Of course, those were the easiest to carry, for there was nothing but their weight to worry about. The live ones always complained and made the carrying close to unbearable, and that was only if I was able to lift them off the ground in the first place.
But there was something about her that seemed magnetic. She did not look any different from all the other live children I have encountered in the past. She had the same two eyes, the same two ears, the same smile. She had two arms that flailed at will, and two legs that supported her thin frame.
And yet, for some odd reason, she felt different. There was some sort of aura that radiated from her, one I had never experienced before. I had thought about it in the few minutes that she was gone, but even as she approached me for a second time, though this time with her hand clutched tightly to her father’s, I could not figure her out.
“Daddy, what is that?” She said, pointing her small, pink finger at me.
“Ah, well that is a Drifloon, my sweetheart!” Her father said happily. “Sometimes, the wind generated by the windmills blows these cute Pokemon over here, and they stay here for the whole day.”
“Is it safe?” She asked. I tried moving sideways to respond to her question, but the strong winds prevented me from doing so.
“Of course, sweetie!” Her father replied. “Although, there is a story I heard from your grandma about these Pokemon taking children to a faraway place, but I’m sure that’s nothing but a silly fairy tale.”
I was surprised that this man had heard of our story. Fairy tale would not be the first description that comes to mind, though. Myth would be better. Or event.
“So can I play with it, daddy?”
“Help yourself, sweetie,” her father answered, “as long as you come back in time for lunch.”
The man left a few moments after that, and we were back to the same situation that we were both in a few minutes ago: staring at each other, about three feet apart, her look of curiosity and anxiety.
And her pinkness. Her astounding pinkness.
Seeing my opportunity, I floated towards her as calmly as possible. She took a cautious step back, but I could see in her eyes that her curiosity outweighed her anxiety.
She extended her right arm towards me, as if trying to poke me.
Perfect, I thought, as I wrapped my arms around hers.
As I made a knot out of my arms, I could see her brown eyes staring at me, with a mix of wonder and confusion. I could see her hair being blown by the soft wind, with strands both enveloping her bow and resting on her forehead. I could see her mouth slightly quivering at the motions of my arms, perhaps out of feeling tickled.
I had dozed off for a while before I realized that I had a firm grip on her. I turned my back towards her, and I could hear her soft gasp. Taking deep breaths, I readied myself to carry her.
One, two, thr—
Everything suddenly became a blur. The grass dissolved into streaks of green, and the sky became blotches of white and blue. The building was no more than a splash of gray, and the sun was nothing beyond a few dots of yellow.
But what filled my vision was pink. Everything screamed pink, and it felt like pink was embracing every part of my body. I couldn’t see anything but a world of pink, and even when I closed my eyes, my vision was filled by pink.
And then, a halt. And laughter.
“Weeeee! That was fun!” I heard the little girl say in between breaths. “You’re so cute!”
I looked at her, and her appearance had changed. Her hair was now very messy, with blades of grass and chunks of dirt in between her hair. Her forehead had beads of sweat that ran down her cheeks, which had lost some of its rosiness. Her pink clothes were now far from the neat ensemble she wore mere minutes ago.
But her eyes still had the same twinkle, and her lips still donned the same smile.
“I want to keep you! Can I keep you, Drifloon?”
I stared at her blankly, for I didn’t know what to respond. Keep me, like a Pokemon owned by a trainer? I have certainly thought about that possibility more than once, and this wasn’t the first time that a trainer tried to catch me. But as I looked at her and her delicate form, her earnest smile, her pink self, I knew that this was the first time that the feeling was mutual.
She wanted to keep me. I wanted to be kept.
I gave her a smile, which translated to a bigger one in her own face. She immediately ran towards the building, screaming “Daddy! Daddy!” I stayed there, excited at the prospect of being owned by someone I knew I would enjoy spending time with, even if I had only met her that day.
The next time I saw her, it was already sunset, and her smile was replaced by a frown.
She approached me rather slowly, almost as if it was the first time she met me. Her back was slouched, as if she didn’t want to look at me. I could sense that something was bothering her, and that she was about to tell me what it was.
“Daddy says I’m too young to own a Pokemon,” she said slowly.
I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to take her with me, but I knew she wouldn’t be happy about that. And I wanted her to be happy.
“But he did tell me that the wind pattern means that you’ll come again next week,” she said, a hint of positivity showing in her face. “Promise that we’ll play together again next Friday, okay?”
I gave her a smile. She gave me a bigger smile in reply.
“All right, I have to go back inside to help Daddy,” she said as she gave me a tight hug. I watched her pink self walk towards the building, occasionally looking at me to check if I was still there. When she reached her door, she looked at me and gave me a wave, and I waved back.
Maybe next Friday, I thought.