All I Need

[Maze]

I've been reading stories here for about three days now and I thought that I could probably write one. I don't know how committed I'll be to it, but I really am excited about sharing my work. I haven't written POKEMON fanfiction before, but I have written stuff, like, on paper, lol. Well, I don't really like the title, but it's appropriate. Suggestions are welcome, though! Treat me nice, I just got here!

All I Need​

Chapter 1: To Flee Or Not To Flee

Dim lights, but a few burning candles, and the answer hit me.

It at once became obvious to me that my search was pointless. The meaning to my life had already been pre-scripted, pre-determined. I’d never be but what my father was: one of the legions of average trainers who would eventually retire (either out of frustration or old age) and settle down with his family at the almost-but-not-quite-completely-juiced age of fifty. So I blew out the candles on my pokeball shaped birthday cake amidst a crowd of awed spectators. After they applauded my apparently arduous feat(?), I left the table with the first slice, disappearing unnoticeably with the aid of a smokescreen of chatter that soon arose.

The subject I’ve chosen to mull around in this now eighteen-year-old mind is usually the kind of thought one would reserve for quiet, solitary contemplation. Sometimes, though, my thoughts annoy me less than the people I know. As I sat at a table in the kitchen, a room relatively empty, I almost wanted to just put my face in the cake and then go socialize with the guests just so that something about this life would be uniquely me. At the point that I decided not to, my nephew sat down at the kitchen table next to me. He’d apparently forgotten why he was here and didn’t say a word to the birthday boy. Or maybe he knew exactly why he was here: cake. Either way, I thought I’d spark the conversation.

“How old are you, now, Christopher?” I asked.

“I’m seven. My birthday was in…”

“I didn’t ask you all of that,” I quickly interrupted. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Um…well, I want to be a pokemon trainer,” he said after only minor hesitation.

“Do you reeeeally want to, or is that just what you’ve been conditioned to think you want?” I interrogated, leaning closer to him and peering into his innocent, brown eyes.

At this point, as it is with all children that begin to become afraid of me, my nephew stood up from his chair and left the table. He couldn’t have answered the question anyway, so I say, good riddance.

I poked the cake with my fork with no intention of eating any, just to express how ‘blah’ I felt. I decided to rejoin my friends who’d attended the shindig as they played video games on my television.

I would recount to you more specific details of the conversation, but so much’d have to be censored. I’ll give you the gist:

Smack talk, “Oooooooh”, “Whatever, man”, *button mashing*, “joke”, conversation?:

“What are you guys doing in the fall?” I asked. I had a summer birthday, one in between the end of high school and the beginning of real life.

“I’m going to the Hoenn region to begin my life as a trainer,” Brian replied in his usual tone: a tone that made it sound like he thought everything he did had an inherent importance because he did it.

“Yeah, me too. Do you know which town you’ll be starting in?”

“No clue, but I do know that it’ll be the best town when I get there. Man, I’m gonna be an awesome trainer.”

“More like awe-ful trainer. Especially if your last trimester grades are any indicator,” Chase retorted.

“Dude, man, I told you those with the confidence that they’d be held secret.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “Chase, you suck, man. But thanks for lettin’ us all know, definitively, how stupid Brian is.”

“Stupid like a fox,” Brian said as he then knocked my character off of the screen with a smash attack by Fox McCloud. I must admit, I was quite “salty”.





The night was quite young. So young, in fact, that if I tried to seduce it, I’d go to jail. But even so, I lay in bed, still thinking. The final month of summer was upon me and my future was so certain it was sickening. To clear things up, I want to be a pokemon trainer, I just have qualms with what made me want to be a pokemon trainer. Sometimes I wish I had been raised in a barrel until the age of twelve and then allowed to experience the world in a less impressionable state. As I am now, though, I’ve been programmed for years with poke-ganda and hype. I don’t even know if my thoughts are mine when I start to contemplate my future as a pokemon trainer.

But what is so appealing about a life of chasing glory, which is often elusive? The need to feel important, I suppose, is the driving force behind most trainers. Realizing that you are a role-model to so many impressionable youth must be real fulfilling. So the problem’s solved, then: I just need to find an original or at least not so trite way to be important.

I hadn’t really realized it at the time, but I was now standing up, putting my pants on, clasping my watch around my wrist, and changing my night shirt with one that ironically bore the poke-ball symbol.

So now I opened my bedroom window and peered into the night.

“To flee or not to flee, that is the question.” I paused for a moment, but then gathered my courage and put one leg outside of the window. “To flee!”

 

[Ampris]

Well, this fic certainly has me interested, though there are several problems. One thing is the length; it could use much more description of things like the house the boy is presumably in, his bedroom, and even the people he was talking to. The first person perspective is compelling, but it would help the readers immensely to see what the world the character lives in is like. And on that note, the protagonist is a bit too mysterious for my taste. You did a fine job of expressing his feelings and thoughts on the whole idea of pokémon training, one of the best points of this story, but we have no idea what he looks like- I don't believe you even mentioned his name. Describing a character over the space of a few sentences is a good way to go about this, even just making remarks like "the candles were reflected in his sharp brown eyes, lighting up his similarly colored and messy hair with their flickering glow". Things like that tell us what the character is like, and also help to set the mood.

Your idea is a good one, having a character who questions the traditional way of doing things and is, thankfully, not a ten year old, and I'd like to see where this story goes, but you need to expend more upon what you write. It seemed a bit spontaneous to jump out of a window like that, it would have been better if you explained to us why he did that. You're good at getting the reader inside the boy's head, so giving a little more information is not only helpful but would play to your strengths.

Keep on writing, you could have a wonderful story here if you work at it. I hope you don't get discouraged and take whatever advice you recieve into mind, especially from any authors better than me Good luck!

 

[katiekitten]

Very good, Maze! A spectacular start! You are really good at first person, you get us, like Ampris said, right into the characters head.

Only one spelling mistake, and took me about ten tries to get it right on spell check, so don't worry about it. XD Riddance, not riddins. Microsoft works can be very annoying. XD

Like Ampris said, you made the common mistake of forgetting to mention the characters name. I do the same; I have written seven pages of a story before realising I hadn't mentioned the characters name once, and had to go back. XD

To expand a little on the description, in third person it is easier to describe through the characters actions, like Ampris's example. In first, it is a little different. Because you wouldn't describe yourself like that, would you? XD You can use the action way to describe others, and to describe a little of a room. Not to much, but enough for us to see it. Description is hard, because you have to make sure it is fluid, not a static list. You probably already know this, just making sure because I don't want us to say: 'add more description!' and you end up clumping it like I have done in the past. XD Sorry for the tangent, back to the subject. XD

For first person, you have to describe through comments about yourself. Comparing sometimes works, or you can wander infront of a mirror. XD For place descriptions, It is slightly harder not to clump, for you are describing in animate objects. I like personifying a light source of some kind, and using that as a way in.

Sorry for the long, tangent, thingy. XD I hope I helped!

 

[Maze]

Wow, thanks for replying! I can't believe I forgot to name my main character! Whoa, I really did kinda laugh when I you guys pointed that out. Well, *main character* will get a name first thing next chapter (which I already started writing, too!)!

@Ampris: Yes, yes, I see now what you mean about lack of detail. I was so caught up in conveying the ideals behind this fic that I forgot the characters needed some kind of physical form, lol! I will take your suggestions to heart and try to improve that with the next chapter. Maybe I will have one of his friends drop some describing words in an insult or comment? Does that sound like a good idea?

@katiekitten: That was a very encouraging response to my first chapter! Thank you very much. And I'm going to change that to riddance. lol @

"I have written seven pages of a story before realising I hadn't mentioned the characters name once, and had to go back. XD"

Well, I'm glad you two caught me so I didn't make the same mistake!

Thank you for your reviews, I appreciate them very much. The next chapter should be up in...I'm gonna say 4 days? I think. Y'all come back now, ya hear?

 

[Astinus]

I'm here now with my incredible skills. (Not...)

As a sat at a table in the kitchen

Should be "I".

"Um,…well, I want to be a pokemon trainer,"

Don't need it.

good riddens.

"Riddance."

And the next two sentences don't make any sense to me:

Smack talk, "Oooooooh", "Whatever, man", *button mashing*, "joke", conversation?:

“Dude, man, I told you those with the confidence that they’d be held secret.”

Don't know how you want to fix that.

First person is slightly difficult to write. Which is why I avoid it at all costs. (^^) I believe that you have forgotten that your readers don't know about your story in the same way you do. That's why we were all confused at the fact that "Main" jumped out the window. You have to have at least something there.

Names are important to know too. You could have had one of his friends say his name.

A lot of things aren't known about your character, like why little kids are afraid of him. Just at least get some more characterization in, and you'll be better. Same with description of the surroundings.

All in all, not a bad start, and you now have another reader to add! ^^

 

[Maze]

Awesome! Thanks for reading the first chapter. Yeah, the other guys pointed out the problems with detail and with my character not having a name and such. I'll be quite sure to improve upon those aspects the best I can in the next chapter. And yeah, you are quite right. I just read my first chapter again, trying to take on you all's perspective, and some things are very vague. And thanks for pointing out the grammatical errors, too! I will edit the post A.S.A.P.

I appreciate all of your comments. Hopefully you'll all stick around to monitor and steer my progress? Seeya later!

EDIT: Oh yeah, and the "At this point, as it is with all children that begin to become afraid of me, my nephew stood up from his chair and left the table" line was just to introduce a characteristic of my character. See, I did try characterization...in some form or other, I suppose? >< It was kind of meant to be a chuckle moment, too, but I definitely see how it could be interpreted otherwise.

 

[Maze]

Well, here's chapter 2.

Okay, guys, here's what I was thinking while I was writing chapter 2:

More detail
Give the character a name!
Make him less mysterious
More characterization
Longer chapters

So, I'm pretty sure I got 2 - 5 done, but I still think the detail is lacking. You'll see where I tried to describe surroundings, but other places, I just didn't know how. I guess I'm just not good at that. I'll need some help. But just so you know, I am trying.

Chapter 2: You Are Nobody

I jumped out of my window and onto the lower roof of the house’s add-on. From there, I jumped into the bushes of our front yard. I rolled over and out of the bushes and then quickly stood up, examining the windows of the house to see if I’d created any disturbance. All was clear and I walked down our driveway and up our street, small backpack thrown over my shoulder. Straight ahead of me was the edge of the neighborhood, the edge of confinement. I looked neither left nor right, but focused my sights on the immediate prize.

But as it does often times in Kanto’s summer weather, it started to rain not but ten minutes after I had decided to do something outside. So now I was walking along in the midst of a night’s rain, not quite knowing where I’d go. I couldn’t go back home, though: that was a place where I’d learned helplessness. I was the only eighteen-year-old I knew without a license. My parents had downplayed its importance and even prevented me from getting one until they thought I was mature enough? Well, maturity can be learned as a result of experience, I believe, and that’s exactly what they’d deprived me of. As a matter of fact, I’m starting to believe this entire venture is the result of my need to learn who I am by experience: removed from constraining, tyrannical overlords. Maybe I’d end up returning to them for guidance before my month was up. Maybe.

As I finally got to the edge of my neighborhood, I looked up and scoffed at a “Stop” sign that stood on the corner.

This whole thing, up until now, may come off as an extemporaneous excursion, but I must dispel that conception now. I had done research: I mapquested my area and studied bus routes on the internet. I knew pretty much where I was going…kinda.

I stood at the bus stop, waiting for the seventy-five to arrive. There was no hood or covering over our bus stop to keep the rain from wetting my head, but it was a light rain, so it didn’t bother me. Even so, my black hair became a bit matted to my forehead, and that’s kind of annoying. It came slowly down the street. On its side was the biggest pokemon poster I had ever seen on a vehicle. “Go Go Pokemon Go!” was written in large letters in the center, and it featured a charmander, a squirtle, a venusaur and a pikachu doing signature attacks in different corners of the poster. However much I hated it, this was my bus and I stepped on it grudgingly. I was one of two passengers now, the other being an older woman with grocery bags in her hands and a cane. She sat near the front of the bus and eyed me as I boarded. I paid no mind, and found an empty seat.

I sat next to the window and the bus began to move. My reflection stared back at me with those piercing brown eyes. I looked at myself in the window and smirked a bit at the situation as if confiding in my image. I guess I just have that kinda face, you know? One that makes others feel they can confide in me. The responsibility then shifts to my demeanor as I feign interest! But now my face seemed to elicit from me the same response as it does from others and I began to introspect as talking aloud to myself, although not uncommon on the modes of public transportation in my area, would have been misconstrued as indicative of mental illness.

What made me who I am? I needed to find out what it was about me that wasn’t a result of conditioning and years of exposure to poke-ganda. I tried hard to imagine who I would’ve become without those things; what my motivations would be, why I’d be important. No answer came and I sat thinking, face rested against the window of the bus.

So it turns out that it’s not the best idea to drown yourself in a sea of contemplation in the middle of the night when you’re tired and traveling a new route on a bus. I woke up, my face having been pressed against the window next to my seat. I rubbed my hand through my now dry hair and looked at my watch. I’d been asleep for half an hour and surely had missed my stop. All of a sudden I got that butterfly feeling: not the one you get before you make a speech in front of a small audience or before you call your girlfriend, but the one you get when some maniac all of a sudden pulls a gun out in the middle of the Kroger’s or when you realize that you left your wallet on the desk at the auto shop twenty miles back (I’ve experienced both, by the way). That’s the feeling that coursed through my body.

“Damn!” I jumped up from my seat only to be thrown to the floor as the bus stopped at a red light. “Ugh.” I peeled my face off of the soiled walkway and regained my footing. “I need to get off of the bus right here.” The doors opened and I stepped off of the bus and onto an unfamiliar curb. The rain hadn’t ceased to fall. But that didn’t matter to me as much as it would’ve had I not felt that way, anyway.

The rain always flows down the sides of the streets in swift streams. Sometimes people associate rain with sorrow, and maybe that is it’s most befitting parallel, but it seems to me that the sorrow, like the heavy rain, is what makes things smell cleaner and seem fresher afterwards. It’s like sorrow washes away your problems as you sulk in them. I know this has been true for me quite often in the past. Someone described it as the opponent-process theory: if you’ve never known an enemy, how could you understand the worth of a friend? And from this comes my optimism: the opponent process is just around the corner.

The headlights were bright, but it didn’t register that they were slowing down for me until they got quite near where I stood at the bus stop. They were all of her blue Honda Accord that was visible in the downpour, and her windshield wipers were frantically at work. She pulled to the side of the road, splashing me with water displaced out of a puddle. The window rolled down.

“Sorry about that. Do you need a ride anywhere?” Sometimes you don’t mind that opportunity has just splashed you in the face with water because it’s still opportunity. So there was no heated response. I barely acknowledged her apology.

“I sure do.”

“Hop in.” I walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle and opened the door. I plopped down in the seat and took a better look at the driver. The rain sometimes clouds your perception: you don’t notice the most beautiful things sometimes because you’re caught up in sorrow. And she was quite the beautiful girl. I hadn’t been able to tell so much by looking at her from outside, but now it was quite pleasantly apparent. Her face was soft, symmetric, and lightly tanned. Her eyes were a shade of brown so deep and enticing that they could produce in anyone a song of pure joy. Her name was Sierra. I knew it because I’d already known (known of, at least) her. I’d been infatuated with her since the beginning of second semester in January (which, I know, is not a long time, but a life-long love begins sometime, doesn’t it?).

“So how have you been, Donald?” And there’s the reason I haven’t mentioned my name yet. I knew it’d come out sometime in the narrative, though.

“Pretty well.”

“Gosh, you’re wet. And all you’re wearing is that blue t-shirt. You must be cold, huh?”

“Not anymore,” I let slip as I sat in the passenger seat looking right over at her. The butterflies came, both types. Was that the right thing to say? Her smile dissipated my anxiety in a second.

“Hah, well, don’t get too fresh, Donald.” She shifted her car into “Drive” and accelerated forward. The buildings moved by us rather quickly and for the first time I was aware of them. The two-story, tightly-packed houses looked quite similar to each other in the night, but even then, I recognized a few of them and knew exactly what part of town I was in. That was comforting and I sat back in my chair and let out a deep sigh. She glanced over at me.

“So where were you goin’ at 11:30, if I may ask?”

“I was actually trying to run away.”

“’Run away’, huh? That sounds quite juvenile, Donald. From what are you running and where to are you going?”

“I’m running from control and to discovery.”

“Control is everywhere, Donald; you can’t run from it. And discovery of what?”

“Hm. Discovery of who I am in spite of this world.”

“You are nobody, Donald, without this world. This world created the person you are, and you can’t run from that, so don’t even try.”

Was she right? Had I run away from home on false pretense? What I didn’t like is that she made me question why I did what I did. We stopped at a light and she turned to me.

“So which way should we go? I can take this road over here and drop you back off in your neighborhood, or you can come with me to my third-shift job and watch me pack boxes with peanuts for seven hours. Pick one.”

I felt so embarrassed. Here I was, thinking that what I was doing was commendable and that anyone would understand why I did it, but she, with two sentences, tore down my resolve and made me question my reasoning. I didn’t know if I could bear to be with her for another seven hours.

“Take me home, please.”

 

[Astinus]

Ouch...poor Donald. x_o His resolve...shot down...by a girl. (Ha ha...)

Your description didn't come out forced. It all just came together so well.

So I hope that you don't mind that I didn't find any mistakes. XD

I did notice that you descriped Donald himself. It didn't sound weird to me. I like it.

Look. All you have to do is keep practicing your writing. You'll get better, don't worry.

 

[Maze]

Thanks for your comments! I'm very glad that you felt the detail I put in worked. I was kinda anxious about that. Well, with your help and the other readers, i'll try to keep getting better. The next chapter is already underway!

 

[Literate]

I jumped out of my window and onto

Missed one, Hanako.


Well, yeah. I've seen this before. Wait, that was in my story. The question about life, doesn't come up so often does it?

Donald's mysterious, thinking about that sort of thing, being deprived of having a pokemon when they're like 18. Which is weird for me.

Anyways, something that struck me wrong is the conversation they had it was a bit...different.

“I’m running from control and to discovery.”

“Control is everywhere, Donald; you can’t run from it. And discovery of what?”

“Hm. Discovery of who I am in spite of this world.”

“You are nobody, Donald, without this world. This world created the person you are, and you can’t run from that, so don’t even try.”

Was she right? Had I run away from home on false pretense? What I didn’t like is that she made me question why I did what I did. We stopped at a light and she turned to me.

That was kind of... weird. There something about her that seems off. Something not normal... Trust me, I know what normal is and what is not.

Last observation, she can drive, but he can not? Or at least being driven around the neighborhood by a girl? It's a bit wrong?

~PEACE~

 

[katiekitten]

Sorry for the wait, I got a little busy.

This is really good, Maze! I really enjoyed it. A few mistakes here and there, but everyone gets them.

All was clear and I walked down our driveway and up our street, small backpack thrown over my shoulder.

An 'a' before 'small backpack'? And I would change the 'and' between clear and I to 'so', and add a comma after clear. But that is just my opinion, the second part.

it started to rain not but ten minutes after I had decided to do something outside. So now I was walking along in the midst of a night’s rain, not quite knowing where I’d go.

Sorry, I is picky when it comes to repetition... Maybe change the last rain to 'shower?'

“So how have you been, Donald?” And there’s the reason I haven’t mentioned my name yet.

XD I really like that littl quote, there.

This is extremely good! There is marked improvement here, and you have the description down to scratch. There were two paragraphs that I really loved, the one about the rain and the one before. Such a nice way of saying it! *hugs*

Keep up the good work, Maze! *gives cookie*


Edit: My 666 post! XD

 

[Maze]

@Literate: Thanks so much for reading my story and giving your input!

"Last observation, she can drive, but he can not"

Haha, yeah. He's a bum...but it's not his fault. There was mention of his parents not wanting him to drive yet.

I appreciate your reply so much. Hopefully, you'll continue reading to see what happens?!

@katiekitten: Thanks for coming back! I wasn't sure if anyone would return! I really appreciate your comments and I'm glad to hear you don't think I'm too terrible at the detail stuff. I fixed the mistakes you and others pointed out, too.

"Edit: My 666 post! XD"

I don't appreciate you cursing my thread, though j/k

I'm still working on the next installment. Keep lettin' me know how I'm doing!

 

[Ohtachi]

#1 Question:

Why is the Main Character waiting until he is 18 before he becomes a Pokemon Trainer? He can become one at the age of 12 if I'm correct? Why exactly is Donald running away? Do cars actually exist in the Pokemon world? Haven't seen them in use.

#1 Comment:

Just a suggestion. It's best not to always use ":" when getting to the Main Point. Stick in a period instead and cut off the sentence. Makes it look less professional. Other than that, I like the detail you used with Chapter 2. Much improved. I also like the real-world references. Keep up with the good work.

 

[Orange_Flaaffy]

Hmm..1st person pov, not unlike my own fic *pokes fic, watches it run into a dark part of SF*
Well..hmmm..how should I put this, it is good in a thoughtful way but your main characters questioning why he wants to be a train seems to be a bit out of place with his being so up and ready to start said journey that he would jump out his window and not tell his parents. I would think by eighteen they would think he was old enough to train without any need for having to run away (given that a lot of people start college then anyhow)

and you can’t run from that, so don’t even try

That sounds...very robot like and forced as if it was just written to force feed a point . I can't think of anyone who talks that way.

And sheesh, running away without anything packed and no starter pokemon? That does not seem like quick thinking for someone so ....thoughtful .

I knew it’d come out sometime in the narrative, though.

*Watches wall between character and reader fall apart*
Um...I don't know how to say this but although 1st person talks to the reader it often does not go quite this far, unless they are writing their own story down... I forget what this sort of error is called however.

Overall:
Make sure that while your working on other things you don't forget to make your spoken character parts sound realistic, rather than just hammering home a point that makes the character groan to himself and\or reinforces said groaning he was doing a moment ago. Internal groaning= good. (Just look how much there is in my fic !) Robot theme enforcing hammer voice= bad. Basicly, 95% of what Sierra says is in this tone IMHO
I find saying spoken parts out loud helps a whole lot .

 

[Arcanine Royale]

The 1st person narrative is quite compelling, and it makes me want to read more. Unfortunately, it seems like the girl Donald met was just there to force feed the point of her conversation. And you...forgot...to mention...her name. Actually, I'm not sure that's very important, but if she knows Donald, you'd think Donald would throw a "hi, ______" or "thanks ______" when he got in. Overall, I think the focus is on the intellectual chess match going on in Donald's head. The overlaying actions are just there to keep the story going, so far. At least, that's what I think. I'm excited to see how you this piece of yours progesses and improves.

Yes, this kind of personal 1st person, very narrative POV is quite good. It makes me want to get to work on my 1st POV piece...

 

[Maze]

Back from the dead

I felt so embarrassed. Here I was, thinking that what I was doing was commendable and that anyone would understand why I did it, but she, with two sentences, tore down my resolve and made me question my reasoning. I didn’t know if I could bear to be with her for another seven hours.

“Take me home, please.”

CHAPTER 3 A:

She took a right and headed to my neighborhood.

“So is that how you deal with your anxiety? Cute,” Sierra remarked sarcastically. I hadn’t realized what I was doing, but there my nails were, against my teeth.

“Yeah, it’s just something I picked up, I guess.” I dropped my hand to my lap.

“Well, okay. You folded pretty quickly a second ago, ya know? I threw out a couple of statements and all of a sudden what you came all this way in the rain for means nothing to you?” There was silence. “I admire a man with strength of will and a strong resolve.” I smiled at that last remark and so did she. I rubbed my forehead with my right hand.

“I suppose. What you said made sense to me, though. I accept my own ignorance, and I’m not particularly stubborn.”

“Ha, so you call it stubbornness, I call it strength of resolve. Tomato toe-mah-toe, I guess.” She was such a personable girl. The way she talked now eased me into a similar mood. “So, Donald, do you have a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“…boyfriend?” she asked hesitantly.

“No!”

“Okay, I was just asking. You’re quite the looker, you know, so you’re answer was surprising, is all.” It was a strawberry dipped in cyanide, a compliment covered in insult.

“Well, thanks. I just never got to the point where I thought it would make sense for me to have a girlfriend. I never had the autonomy, the responsibility or the emotional need for a relationship of that nature.”


So it’s become an integral part of my character, this defense mechanism that I’ve developed over time: pretending that nothing’s happening when I’m in an embarrassing situation or one I don’t have the nerve to handle correctly. I remember clearly seeing one of my estranged friends for a long time in a while, and acting as if we’d never been apart. It just seems easier to ignore problems than to deal with them sometimes.

Without a way to enter the house otherwise, I turned my key in the front door and stepped inside. The lights in the living room turned on as if automatically, and there stood my mother and father.

“Where were you just now?”

I took a moment to take in the question: where was I, in the past, just now, in the present. My head almost exploded.

“I was out.”

“Obviously, but where!?” The tone was escalated to vicious, unnecessarily, in my opinion.

“I don’t know where I was going.”

“So do you think that now that you’re eighteen you can just leave the house without telling us?! In the middle of the night, no less?”

“Nope.” I didn’t want the conversation to go on, but I couldn’t bring myself to give answers longer than one word, which of course is conducive of more questions. But this is how the conversation played out; like one vicious cycle spiraling closer and closer together into a funnel-shaped path that approaches pointlessness. It was my own fault, though; I could never be bothered to answer a question I didn’t want to.

“What would make you want to act up all of a sudden? You were always such a good boy.”

“Yes, good and ignorant.” At that comment, my mother turned away and started mumbling something under her breath. Indiscernible? Yes. Inconsequential? Yes also.

“Son, what is this about?” my father asked. Pre-Sierra encounter, I would have told him, but now all that would agree to come out was “I don’t know.”

And so the days between that encounter and the date on which I was to leave for the continent of Hoenn moved at a regular pace. I make note of this because usually the things you aren’t looking forward to always are too close. And the things you want are so far away. Something about my dread for the looming future and my eager want to escape the prison my home had become cancelled out any abnormal movement of time that others with the same future would have experienced.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Part B of Chapter 3 is coming in two days

 

[Literate]

:0 Why are people commenting on first person? It isn't natural? ? *another person using first person*

Anyways, this time I spotted a few mistakes. Just small short ones.

I hadn’t realized what I was doing, but there my nails were against my teeth.

I'm pretty sure a comma doesn't go there.

“Okay, I was just asking. You’re quite the looker, you know, so your answer was surprising, is all.”

you're > your

Just a few. That I saw with my sucky grammar skills.

Alright. So, there were a few parts that didn't sound right in my opinion. But I'm sure that's how teenagers at eighteen would say it. But I always thought they were a bit dense. :x Ah well. Goes to show that I don't know everything. *is 13*

I accept my own ignorance, and I’m not particularly stubborn.

If that was me. I would've thrown in some insuperior words. *couldn't find another way to describe it* Something like: I accept my own stupid ignorance, and I'm not exactly that stubborn. Almost the same thing, but slightly...less robotish.

“Well, thanks. I just never got to the point where I thought it would make sense for me to have a girlfriend. I never had the autonomy, the responsibility or the emotional need for a relationship of that nature.”

"I just didn't have a point," would've summed it up nicely. Try to make it more conversational. Imagine it you telling that to your parents or something.


I believe that's it. It's looking good so far and I'm curious on how things would go for Donald. What will happen?

~Literate

 

[Orange_Flaaffy]

I agree that you need to make it more conversational. Too much is written as if he is summing it up in his head with little real action to drive it along. It's like reading overly superiory worded 1st person cliffnotes. More showing to telling to balance out the story would be good..
For example, when my character is feeling as if she will never measure up as a 'perfect' Nurse Joy she is dyeing her hair pink again and looking at the dye bottle. The action of the story is still there as she is thinking, it is just not a 'I did this, I felt this, I went to bed' sort of sum up

 

[shadowlight]

I agree with what they said
Otherwise I liked this one a lot

 

[Maze]

For anyone who still is even interested in this story, I just wanted to show my face...screen name. My fic is on my dad's computer and I'm staying with my mom for...a while. I think I might just have to re-write a bunch of stuff because i don't want to just let this fic lie dormant for however long. I want to pump out a new chapter by friday.