pokeplayer984
Banned
Now, I shall make a VERY IMPORTANT NOTE THAT MUST BE READ!
Note: I want you to understand one thing in its entirty when you read this fic, what I had to work with.
This story is based off Charles Dickens' novel. However, when I picked up his famous story and read it for myself, I was both shocked and appauled. Why, you ask? Well, I will give him the benefit of doubt with describing places brilliantly and getting the attitude of the character to the point. However, when describing the looks of the charcter, it is nothing more than the fact that they are either young, middle-aged or old, and whether the character is a he or she. He does describe what clothes they wear, there is no doubt about that. He does NOT tell us if they have brown, blue or green eyes, nor does he tell us what color hair they hold. (Though with Scrooge, we could suggest he was bald.)
Now, I shall also tell you about what I had to work with for the first chapter. The first chapter is the funeral of Jacob Marley. However, when trying to find out what the funeral was like, I ended up getting nothing more than the fact that Jacob Marley was dead. This was pointlessly extended for four paragraphs. This was highly unnessacary in my jurisdiction. There was no information whatsoever of what the funeral was like. I was doomed (yes, doomed fits very well in this case.) to use my own imagination.
I have studied Scrooge's character very carefully of how it would be at the time, and concluded the funeral to be rather short. So understand, that this chapter is short to reflect Scrooge's character and nothing more. This is how I believe it would've been done if Charles Dickens did put it in, whether you like it or not.
So, in that case, it is highly unnessacary to say "this chapter is too short" because the shortness is nessacary in order for you to understand the main character I am working with.
Understand, that with this first chapter, just one more page is a greatly accomplished improvement, regardless.
If you do not believe me at all, pick up the same novel and read it for yourself. Trust me, you'll probably have the same feeling as me.
Also, understand that shortness shall not happen again throughout the story, or at least I hope for it not to happen again.
You must understand that sometimes shortness is required in a story, and in this case, it is nessacary to refelct the charcter I am working with.
Also, understand that much of what I put into this story is not the way I would write it, but what Charles Dickens wrote for his story. This is meant to help you understand further of what a terrible thing I had to work with. I shall indicate his original work in red colored font.
------
Okay, I am finally done with the note that I wanted to make very clear for you. Now, here's what I want to give you.
This story is based off Charles Dickens' novel, A Christmas Carol. All charcters have been changed to pokemon. Each charcter has been kept it's original name in the novel itself. There is no unnessacary change in name whatsoever. With this, I hereby give the late Charles Dickens full credit for the names which are provided to me. I also give him credit for the story itself, for without that, this story wouldn't even have a single letter in it.
Pokemon is owned by Nintendo, Game Freak, Creatures Inc. and TV-Tokyo productions. I hold no relationship in their work whatsoever, so I don't own a single thing of theirs.
This story is meant for entertainment and nothing more. I do not seek money or fandom for this story. I could care less if you hated it for whatever reason.
However, I would like you to respond, as I am willing to improve this fic in any nessacary way I can.
This fic has been Rated G. It contains no violence or harsh language and is completely free of mention of sexual activity. However, it does contain ghosts, and if ghosts frighten you away, I would highly suggest you don't read this.
Now, I have given you all the nessacary notes required. So, here we go!
-----------
Snow covered the whole no cloud in the sky landscape. Everything was covered in a blanket of natural white. The grass, the trees and even the dirt road was all covered in the solidified beauty that was about. Despite the beauty and the clear day, it was not a happy one.
A Ponyta, a dark white horse pokemon of the fire element, was pulling a carriage. A rider, a Sneasel to be exact, a black cat like creature with long razor sharp claws, sat atop the carriage, controlling the Ponyta. The Sneasel was wearing a coat, a pair of trousers and scarf to keep it warm in the cold weather. A casket rested inside the carriage, probably made of the cheapest wood that existed. Simply, someone had died. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.
Two figures walked a steady pace behind the carriage. Both were old of age, yet both were very different. Even though either wore a white shirt, a black waistcoat, black pants, black shoes, black tie, a black top hat and a black coat, or simply dressed the same, they were very different. One was a Sceptile, a tall green gecko pokemon. The other was a Meowth, a white cat with a coin on his head, which was walking on his hind legs and had a cane to support his own old body. A Meowth named Ebenezer Scrooge. This is his story.
The one in the coffin was Jacob Marley, who will be known later in the story. Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don’t know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator; his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend, and sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnized it with an undoubted bargain.
The Meowth continued to follow the carriage until it reached a cathedral that was covered with snow. The church like building was surrounded with tombstones. Yes, it was a graveyard as well. Some of the most respected people of the town of London were buried here.
Scrooge was very well known in the town, yet he was not liked by nearly anyone. He was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge. A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner. Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The coldness within his heart froze his own features, nipped his unable-to-see nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice.
Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, “My dear Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to see me?” No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was o’ clock, no male or female ever once in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place of Scrooge. Even the blind one’s Houndoom, a black dog with horns, appeared to know him; and when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would wag their forked tails as though they said, “No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!”
But what did Scrooge care! It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call “nuts” to Scrooge.
They soon stopped at the very spot where the body would be put to rest. The place was fairly simple. It was nothing more than a simple tombstone with Jacob’s name on it. It didn’t have the year of his birth or death on it. Only the name existed on it. Scrooge wanted the job done quickly and so that the funeral could be over with as soon as possible. He wanted it done and over with and so that he could get back to his business. Such cold-heartedness he had inside him. One would indeed pity him.
A minister in front of the grave read the passage in the Bible that explained death. The minister was dressed in a white robe with a yellow outline at the ends of the fabric. He also wore a pentagon shaped hat, that covered his yellow hair, that was made of the same fabric and was designed the same way, save for the cross that was in the middle. Others who didn’t know this star shaped being that floated in the air would call him a pope, yet he was not. It was just the type of clothing that this creature with dark white skin wore that made others misjudge his occupation of the church. He was nothing more than a minister.
The Jirachi got to the final passage of the Bible that he chose to read. It was one that seemed to comfort those who were closest to the one who had passed away.
“’The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.’”
The Jirachi then closed the book. “May God be with you through the valley of death and lead you to his home. Amen.”
“Amen!” The two males repeated.
The funeral was so short that it didn’t suit anyone’s tastes. Not even Scrooge’s tastes were met with this unfortunate event. Marley was dead. There was no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ‘Change for anything he chose to put his hand on. After the register was signed, which was inside a book, it was closed, and not to be seen again until another time.
“Old Marley is as dead as a doornail!” Said Scrooge, getting right to the point of why they were at the funeral.
“Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a doornail.” Said the Jirachi, joining in with the conversation, and hiding his true character.
“I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade.” Said the Sceptile, who was also just hiding his true character.
“The wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile;” huffed Scrooge. “And my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley is as dead as a doornail! And you two are terrible at conversing with me.” He said sternly, knowing they were hiding their true character from him. “And nothing more than a waste of my time! I must get back to my business! Good day!” He then left the funeral without another word and disappeared into the distance.
The Sceptile turned to the minister. “Why do you think he acts the way he does?” He asked once Scrooge was out of earshot.
“Maybe it has something to do with the day Marley died.” The Jirachi answered.
“Christmas Eve?”
“Yes.” He said, feeling much mercy for Scrooge. “Christmas is supposed to be a time of joy, and when something like this destroys that joy, it can destroy them inside and make them cold-hearted. I cannot imagine the pain his soul feels. I now pray for it greatly. For it seems that it is doomed.”
---End Chapter 1---
-----------------
Here are the reasons I chose the charcters I did:
Meowth as Ebenezer Scrooge: I wanted a pokemon that would match his character. A Meowth seemed to fit that very well. One would argue that Persian was better, but there are some things that Meowth can do that Persian cannot. Meowth can stand on hind legs and hold a key in his hand. Persian cannot. I think that about sums it up.
Sneasel as the driver: I wanted someone scary. This was to reflect that death is an enemy. One who has claimed the soul of another. I have chosen this pokemon as a reason to scare you, even if it's the slightest.
Sceptile as the one who accompianed Scrooge: Random choice really. I could've picked anyother pokemon for all I care.
Jirachi as the minister: I do not understand myself why I picked this one. For one of the oddest reasons, it just seemed to fit. Maybe it was the desprateness of Jirachi wanting to be in a fic that got me. I do not know myself what the reason was. It just fits. Nothing more needs to be known of that.
-------
Well, there you go.
I hope you now understand what I had to work with and can forgive me for certian things in it.
So, what did you think?
And remember, there is no need to tell me it was short. For in this rare, one-of-a-kind case, it was nessacary.
Note: I want you to understand one thing in its entirty when you read this fic, what I had to work with.
This story is based off Charles Dickens' novel. However, when I picked up his famous story and read it for myself, I was both shocked and appauled. Why, you ask? Well, I will give him the benefit of doubt with describing places brilliantly and getting the attitude of the character to the point. However, when describing the looks of the charcter, it is nothing more than the fact that they are either young, middle-aged or old, and whether the character is a he or she. He does describe what clothes they wear, there is no doubt about that. He does NOT tell us if they have brown, blue or green eyes, nor does he tell us what color hair they hold. (Though with Scrooge, we could suggest he was bald.)
Now, I shall also tell you about what I had to work with for the first chapter. The first chapter is the funeral of Jacob Marley. However, when trying to find out what the funeral was like, I ended up getting nothing more than the fact that Jacob Marley was dead. This was pointlessly extended for four paragraphs. This was highly unnessacary in my jurisdiction. There was no information whatsoever of what the funeral was like. I was doomed (yes, doomed fits very well in this case.) to use my own imagination.
I have studied Scrooge's character very carefully of how it would be at the time, and concluded the funeral to be rather short. So understand, that this chapter is short to reflect Scrooge's character and nothing more. This is how I believe it would've been done if Charles Dickens did put it in, whether you like it or not.
So, in that case, it is highly unnessacary to say "this chapter is too short" because the shortness is nessacary in order for you to understand the main character I am working with.
Understand, that with this first chapter, just one more page is a greatly accomplished improvement, regardless.
If you do not believe me at all, pick up the same novel and read it for yourself. Trust me, you'll probably have the same feeling as me.
Also, understand that shortness shall not happen again throughout the story, or at least I hope for it not to happen again.
You must understand that sometimes shortness is required in a story, and in this case, it is nessacary to refelct the charcter I am working with.
Also, understand that much of what I put into this story is not the way I would write it, but what Charles Dickens wrote for his story. This is meant to help you understand further of what a terrible thing I had to work with. I shall indicate his original work in red colored font.
------
Okay, I am finally done with the note that I wanted to make very clear for you. Now, here's what I want to give you.
This story is based off Charles Dickens' novel, A Christmas Carol. All charcters have been changed to pokemon. Each charcter has been kept it's original name in the novel itself. There is no unnessacary change in name whatsoever. With this, I hereby give the late Charles Dickens full credit for the names which are provided to me. I also give him credit for the story itself, for without that, this story wouldn't even have a single letter in it.
Pokemon is owned by Nintendo, Game Freak, Creatures Inc. and TV-Tokyo productions. I hold no relationship in their work whatsoever, so I don't own a single thing of theirs.
This story is meant for entertainment and nothing more. I do not seek money or fandom for this story. I could care less if you hated it for whatever reason.
However, I would like you to respond, as I am willing to improve this fic in any nessacary way I can.
This fic has been Rated G. It contains no violence or harsh language and is completely free of mention of sexual activity. However, it does contain ghosts, and if ghosts frighten you away, I would highly suggest you don't read this.
Now, I have given you all the nessacary notes required. So, here we go!
-----------
A Pokemon Christmas Carol
by John Charles Jester
Chapter 1
by John Charles Jester
Chapter 1
Snow covered the whole no cloud in the sky landscape. Everything was covered in a blanket of natural white. The grass, the trees and even the dirt road was all covered in the solidified beauty that was about. Despite the beauty and the clear day, it was not a happy one.
A Ponyta, a dark white horse pokemon of the fire element, was pulling a carriage. A rider, a Sneasel to be exact, a black cat like creature with long razor sharp claws, sat atop the carriage, controlling the Ponyta. The Sneasel was wearing a coat, a pair of trousers and scarf to keep it warm in the cold weather. A casket rested inside the carriage, probably made of the cheapest wood that existed. Simply, someone had died. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.
Two figures walked a steady pace behind the carriage. Both were old of age, yet both were very different. Even though either wore a white shirt, a black waistcoat, black pants, black shoes, black tie, a black top hat and a black coat, or simply dressed the same, they were very different. One was a Sceptile, a tall green gecko pokemon. The other was a Meowth, a white cat with a coin on his head, which was walking on his hind legs and had a cane to support his own old body. A Meowth named Ebenezer Scrooge. This is his story.
The one in the coffin was Jacob Marley, who will be known later in the story. Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don’t know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator; his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend, and sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnized it with an undoubted bargain.
The Meowth continued to follow the carriage until it reached a cathedral that was covered with snow. The church like building was surrounded with tombstones. Yes, it was a graveyard as well. Some of the most respected people of the town of London were buried here.
Scrooge was very well known in the town, yet he was not liked by nearly anyone. He was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge. A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner. Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The coldness within his heart froze his own features, nipped his unable-to-see nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice.
Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, “My dear Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to see me?” No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was o’ clock, no male or female ever once in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place of Scrooge. Even the blind one’s Houndoom, a black dog with horns, appeared to know him; and when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would wag their forked tails as though they said, “No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!”
But what did Scrooge care! It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call “nuts” to Scrooge.
They soon stopped at the very spot where the body would be put to rest. The place was fairly simple. It was nothing more than a simple tombstone with Jacob’s name on it. It didn’t have the year of his birth or death on it. Only the name existed on it. Scrooge wanted the job done quickly and so that the funeral could be over with as soon as possible. He wanted it done and over with and so that he could get back to his business. Such cold-heartedness he had inside him. One would indeed pity him.
A minister in front of the grave read the passage in the Bible that explained death. The minister was dressed in a white robe with a yellow outline at the ends of the fabric. He also wore a pentagon shaped hat, that covered his yellow hair, that was made of the same fabric and was designed the same way, save for the cross that was in the middle. Others who didn’t know this star shaped being that floated in the air would call him a pope, yet he was not. It was just the type of clothing that this creature with dark white skin wore that made others misjudge his occupation of the church. He was nothing more than a minister.
The Jirachi got to the final passage of the Bible that he chose to read. It was one that seemed to comfort those who were closest to the one who had passed away.
“’The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.’”
The Jirachi then closed the book. “May God be with you through the valley of death and lead you to his home. Amen.”
“Amen!” The two males repeated.
The funeral was so short that it didn’t suit anyone’s tastes. Not even Scrooge’s tastes were met with this unfortunate event. Marley was dead. There was no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ‘Change for anything he chose to put his hand on. After the register was signed, which was inside a book, it was closed, and not to be seen again until another time.
“Old Marley is as dead as a doornail!” Said Scrooge, getting right to the point of why they were at the funeral.
“Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a doornail.” Said the Jirachi, joining in with the conversation, and hiding his true character.
“I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade.” Said the Sceptile, who was also just hiding his true character.
“The wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile;” huffed Scrooge. “And my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley is as dead as a doornail! And you two are terrible at conversing with me.” He said sternly, knowing they were hiding their true character from him. “And nothing more than a waste of my time! I must get back to my business! Good day!” He then left the funeral without another word and disappeared into the distance.
The Sceptile turned to the minister. “Why do you think he acts the way he does?” He asked once Scrooge was out of earshot.
“Maybe it has something to do with the day Marley died.” The Jirachi answered.
“Christmas Eve?”
“Yes.” He said, feeling much mercy for Scrooge. “Christmas is supposed to be a time of joy, and when something like this destroys that joy, it can destroy them inside and make them cold-hearted. I cannot imagine the pain his soul feels. I now pray for it greatly. For it seems that it is doomed.”
---End Chapter 1---
-----------------
Here are the reasons I chose the charcters I did:
Meowth as Ebenezer Scrooge: I wanted a pokemon that would match his character. A Meowth seemed to fit that very well. One would argue that Persian was better, but there are some things that Meowth can do that Persian cannot. Meowth can stand on hind legs and hold a key in his hand. Persian cannot. I think that about sums it up.
Sneasel as the driver: I wanted someone scary. This was to reflect that death is an enemy. One who has claimed the soul of another. I have chosen this pokemon as a reason to scare you, even if it's the slightest.
Sceptile as the one who accompianed Scrooge: Random choice really. I could've picked anyother pokemon for all I care.
Jirachi as the minister: I do not understand myself why I picked this one. For one of the oddest reasons, it just seemed to fit. Maybe it was the desprateness of Jirachi wanting to be in a fic that got me. I do not know myself what the reason was. It just fits. Nothing more needs to be known of that.
-------
Well, there you go.
I hope you now understand what I had to work with and can forgive me for certian things in it.
So, what did you think?
And remember, there is no need to tell me it was short. For in this rare, one-of-a-kind case, it was nessacary.
Last edited:
