Rated G/PG (really nothing that intense)
DISCLAIMER:
This is quite short, I'll admit, but I had no idea where I was supposed to do with it. On its own, I thought it sounded nice and ended well.
But I couldn't decide where to put it; tossed up mixing it with one of my other fics, but decided it really didn't fit and it deserved its own place.
Then had an argument with myself because it's so short, but in the end, I decided I'd see what the masses have to say.
Enjoy.
***
Life is beautiful.
Life... is to be treasured.
What is life when it is ugly?
Can life be... ugly?
Staring at what lies before me, I question this notion of… life.
Life is... breathing. Life... is movement.
Is this living, then? Alive?
One has no notion of the darkness here. It is pervasive; all expanding. I see you, in the flashes of light... consciousness.
The electricity is shorting out... like lightning, it flickers before my eyes, providing only glimpses of the room. Consciousness likewise, flickers.
Moments of clarity.
I see you there and I know that you can see me. I can hear you breathing... but you are not moving. Is this life, then?
Life is... life is...
What lies before me is a spectrum of the unknown.
Reality... I cannot even be certain of that.
You do not move. You simply stand there and watch. I know you are watching; you do not move nor blink... but I feel your gaze. I know I am gazing at something that is aware.
Life is this.
The electricity finally cuts and the room plunges into absolute black.
Black is... the unknown. Obscure. Sinister... black is unreality and yet unreality stood before me when the room was lit.
Impenetrable darkness exists in our minds all the time; it lies within the soul, somewhere beyond the conscious grasp of the mind. Yet it is there... and now it is reality.
My reality... and yours.
I step back, though I know there is nowhere to run.
Realisation is dawning on me; the abominal products of man's eagerness to play God for money... you.
How did you not realise?
Something cold and silky slides against my face.
A hand.
Your hand.
Why are you bothering yourself with touch? You know me well; your sixth sense can feel every quiver of every nerve in my entire body.
I know what you are.
A Psychic.
Nothing other than a Psychic could destroy so much, without leaving any outward traces - but more than that, only one Psychic I know that would destroy every human being on the island.
Only a Psychic… and only you, could be so cold…
In the darkness, in this unknown reality, I am but a play thing for something that is less than human. My own creation, I am sure of it now.
But just to break the silence…
“Who are you?”
Ah, at least. I find my voice. Though, it feels small and ineffectual here. Harmless - when once I had the voice of authority and could inspire fear in the hearts of my subordinates.
You don’t say anything.
Then -
“A mistake.”
There is a spark of blue.
And then I feel nothing.
***
DISCLAIMER:
I, Synthetic, claim absolutely no ownership of any material in the Pokémon franchise in any way, shape or form. I do not own the monsters or their evolutions, locations (Hoenn, Kanto and Johto etc.), Mewtwo, Pikachu, Ash Ketchum or any other official Pokémon characters. They legally belong to Nintendo, GAME FREAK inc. and Creatures Inc.; Pokémon character names are trademarks of Nintendo. Basically, I had no part in creating anything official - I am not, and never will earn any money from this fiction and... well, when Pokémon was first registered as an official name, I was still rolling around in a sandpit. So it's not mine! None of it belongs to me!
All personalities of official characters in this fiction are created by my own interpretations and thus should not be considered reliable references for the true, official material. I claim ownership of the dialogue and monologue of the narrator in this fiction.
Remember, kids: This fiction is purely the work of a fan with no life.
All personalities of official characters in this fiction are created by my own interpretations and thus should not be considered reliable references for the true, official material. I claim ownership of the dialogue and monologue of the narrator in this fiction.
Remember, kids: This fiction is purely the work of a fan with no life.
This is quite short, I'll admit, but I had no idea where I was supposed to do with it. On its own, I thought it sounded nice and ended well.
But I couldn't decide where to put it; tossed up mixing it with one of my other fics, but decided it really didn't fit and it deserved its own place.
Then had an argument with myself because it's so short, but in the end, I decided I'd see what the masses have to say.
Enjoy.
***
A Mistake
Life is beautiful.
Life... is to be treasured.
What is life when it is ugly?
Can life be... ugly?
Staring at what lies before me, I question this notion of… life.
Life is... breathing. Life... is movement.
Is this living, then? Alive?
One has no notion of the darkness here. It is pervasive; all expanding. I see you, in the flashes of light... consciousness.
The electricity is shorting out... like lightning, it flickers before my eyes, providing only glimpses of the room. Consciousness likewise, flickers.
Moments of clarity.
I see you there and I know that you can see me. I can hear you breathing... but you are not moving. Is this life, then?
Life is... life is...
What lies before me is a spectrum of the unknown.
Reality... I cannot even be certain of that.
You do not move. You simply stand there and watch. I know you are watching; you do not move nor blink... but I feel your gaze. I know I am gazing at something that is aware.
Life is this.
The electricity finally cuts and the room plunges into absolute black.
Black is... the unknown. Obscure. Sinister... black is unreality and yet unreality stood before me when the room was lit.
Impenetrable darkness exists in our minds all the time; it lies within the soul, somewhere beyond the conscious grasp of the mind. Yet it is there... and now it is reality.
My reality... and yours.
I step back, though I know there is nowhere to run.
Realisation is dawning on me; the abominal products of man's eagerness to play God for money... you.
How did you not realise?
Something cold and silky slides against my face.
A hand.
Your hand.
Why are you bothering yourself with touch? You know me well; your sixth sense can feel every quiver of every nerve in my entire body.
I know what you are.
A Psychic.
Nothing other than a Psychic could destroy so much, without leaving any outward traces - but more than that, only one Psychic I know that would destroy every human being on the island.
Only a Psychic… and only you, could be so cold…
In the darkness, in this unknown reality, I am but a play thing for something that is less than human. My own creation, I am sure of it now.
But just to break the silence…
“Who are you?”
Ah, at least. I find my voice. Though, it feels small and ineffectual here. Harmless - when once I had the voice of authority and could inspire fear in the hearts of my subordinates.
You don’t say anything.
Then -
“A mistake.”
There is a spark of blue.
And then I feel nothing.
***
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*steals without consent*) right down to the fact that it is universally considered a mistake at creating life, literally a mistake. The only real difference is I think the character in your's is a subject of fear and curiosity, while mine is a subject of hatred and revenge.