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Roots // PG-13

Manchee

extra toasty
Alright, I've read the second chapter. It was good, and that's my main comment. It was cool how you have the boxes for each starter so big and contain a lot; shows how the time period is different, and how giving out so many starters at once could lead to having hardly any at the current time period ;P

I noticed Rowan went a little out of character when he helped up Emerson, purely because... well, he help him up, haha. He doesn't seem like the kind to help up an adult. I like how he snapped back into character when he just dropped Turtwig on the floor though. I love how much he could care less about Pokémon.

I only skimmed through other reviews, so sorry if this was mentioned - you're wrong with the Pokéballs you have in this story. In the fourth Pokémon movie (I think it was the fourth... whichever one revolved around Celebi and Suicune) Oak was shown when he was a kid, and he has a grayish Pokéball that you have to crack a small dial thing so the Pokémon can get out. I went and found a picture from Bulbapedia here.

Shiny Turtwig... muh. I always think shinies are dumb, so I'll avoid really commenting on that.


BA~
 

Mrs. Lovett

Rolling writer
I noticed Rowan went a little out of character when he helped up Emerson, purely because... well, he help him up, haha. He doesn't seem like the kind to help up an adult. I like how he snapped back into character when he just dropped Turtwig on the floor though. I love how much he could care less about Pokémon.
I guess you could interpret the scene in different ways. Me, I wrote it to be a sort of awkward moment for Michael, when he doesn't really know what to say to this old guy who got knocked over by a bunch of kids. (Almost like a bit of his good side coming out.) You have a good point, though; I was just thinking of something different when I wrote it.

I only skimmed through other reviews, so sorry if this was mentioned - you're wrong with the Pokéballs you have in this story. In the fourth Pokémon movie (I think it was the fourth... whichever one revolved around Celebi and Suicune) Oak was shown when he was a kid, and he has a grayish Pokéball that you have to crack a small dial thing so the Pokémon can get out. I went and found a picture from Bulbapedia here.
I actually own that movie on video. I re-watched it a couple days ago for fun, and I saw that pokeball too, (There's a reason for everything!) but it didn't occur to me to change anything. I want to be as accurate as possible in this story, so I'll just go and back-edit that when no one's looking...

Thanks for pointing those things out! I appreciate your help.
 

Mrs. Lovett

Rolling writer
Decided to post this one a day early, since it's one of the shorter ones as well. (You're probably tired of hearing that, so I'll explain: This is a turning point in the story. You'll see why as you read. The next chapter will be short too, and after that, they'll start lengthening.)

And without further ado, chapter three.


0.3

When Michael got home, the Stunky was squealing. Upon slamming the door to his room, making sure his old 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign was visible, he opened the closet and looked down. The Stunky was shuffling around in its cage, clawing at the metal with a hungry fervor. When it saw him, it mewed again, this time louder. Michael let out a groan.

He ran down to the kitchen and grabbed three strings of bacon from the breakfast table, then came back and tossed them into the cage. The Stunky pounced upon the food immediately, tearing and chewing.

"At least that'll keep you quiet," Michael grumbled, then slid the doors closed.

He descended the stairs again, this time turning into the living room, where the only phone in the house was kept. He plopped down into one of the armchairs, figuring he could use a friend’s advice.

Michael twirled the rotary, and after three rings, Cory's voice answered. "Hello?"

"Hey," Michael said.

"Hey Mike. I heard about the suspension... Me and Brendan got them too. Till the end of the year, right?"

"Right."

"I know! Man, imagine what we could do with an extra week of no school! It's like paradise!"

Michael twisted the cord around his index finger. "Yep."

There was a pause on the other end. "Uh, Mike? You sound upset. Are you mad about it or something?"

"No, no. I was actually really happy about it, but my mom just officially ruined summer for me."

"What'd she do?"

"She took me to Sandgem to get a starter pokémon... it was such a drag."

"From Professor Chrome Dome?"

"Yeah."

"Whoa! How bad was it?"

"Like, I could use it as a mirror." Michael began to laugh. "And get this, he was totally hooked on smoking. He lit up right there in his office, after all the kids left. The pokéballs all got mixed up, so I had to pick a random one. It was a Turtwig, but it was all weird-looking. "

"Weird how?"

"The color. It was different. You know how Turtwigs are supposed to be this grassy green color? And their eyes are black? Well, mine's not. Mine's this light blue-green, and its eyes are yellow."

"Wow... was it defective or something?"

It often scared Michael how his friends could think on the same plane as he did. "Yeah," he answered. "And that's not even the point, I mean, that professor guy is a total dipstick. When me and my mom went to ask what was up with it, he kicked us out. He didn't even answer our question. So now I'm stuck with a crappy Turtwig and a mom who's gonna make me raise it for the rest of summer."

"Bummer," Cory said slowly. "No, seriously, I feel your pain. But it's not all bad right? I mean, when I got my starter, my mom said that she was gonna force me to raise it too, but she never did anything. I haven't opened that pokéball in three years and I don't think she cares. My grades are more important to her."

"Still, our moms are different. Mine usually keeps her promises." Michael sighed. "And I don't even want to raise a pokémon. It's stupid."

Cory was silent for a few moments. Michael could tell he was eating something, due to faint crunching noises on the other end. "Hey, do you still have that Stunky?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah," Michael said.

"Do you think you can sneak out today and drop it off at my pad? Then we could all do experiments on it. I already know some. I found this special food recipe that can help pokémon grow super powerful. We should try it on the Stunky to see if it works. Think about it, we could have the most powerful pokémon on the block! We'll pay people to battle us, and we'll make a fortune!"

Michael laughed along with his friend, and instantly felt his energy return. “Sure thing.”

"So where is it right now?" Cory said.

"Closet."

"Cool. Can you come over in a minute, then? The old man's out with friends, and he won’t care what we’re up to. We'll use the garage."

Michael looked over his shoulder. Somewhere in the kitchen, he heard the clang of pots and pans. If he got caught, there was no telling what Patricia would do to him.

"Yeah. I'll be there."



//////



Michael kept a thick rope rolled up beneath his bed, unbeknownst to his mother. He had put it there when he was six, and from then on, used it whenever he needed to make a getaway.

When he got to his room and kneeled down, Michael found it waiting there, like an old friend. One end was tied to the bed’s leg, in an unbreakable knot that would fully support his weight.

Michael pulled out the rest of its length, and with a mass of coils in his hand, he pushed open his window and threw it out. The rope unraveled with a quick hiss, dropping all the way into the grass. Michael went over to his closet and took out the Stunky's cage, ignoring the pokémon’s squeaks as he sat down onto the pane.

He opened the window wider and peered down at the ground. He no longer had a fear of heights, thanks to years of experience. Looping his arm through the cage’s handle, Michael gripped the rope with both hands and pushed himself off of the edge. After a moment of exhilaration, he tightened his grip and let himself swing back towards the wall of the house, using his feet to cushion the impact. The Stunky began to screech and rattle about, but the cage was secure. Score. Michael grunted, and began to inch his way down.

Throughout the whole thing, the Stunky was restless. It kept turning in place, lifting its tail threateningly, as if being outside again had suddenly thrown its sense of location out of whack. Michael was able to suck up his annoyance until he was safely on the ground.

You're gonna get yours soon anyway... he thought with a smile.

Cory's house stood on the other side of the street, at the very end of the lane. His family was too poor and lazy to bother with appearances, so the lawn was overgrown and the paint on the driveway was faded. The gate in front of the house was always unlocked, and Michael let himself in with ease. He went over to the garage door and knocked.

"Hey guys, I'm here."

"All right, hang on!" came a muffled voice. Seconds later, Cory slid up the door to reveal a messy garage. Brendan was standing off to the side, around a wooden table. Both boys wore thick gloves.

"Bring it in, bring it in." Cory grinned. Michael set the cage onto the table, directly beneath the ceiling lamp. The Stunky paced in circles some more, then its eyes finally locked on its captors.

"Here, take a pair of these." Brendan threw Michael an extra pair of gloves. "Pokémon can get nasty."

Michael pulled them on, and Cory clapped his hands.

"All right. Gentlemen, say hello to the food of the future!" He took down a glass container from the shelf, and opened it to reveal a strange brown mixture.

"So that's supposed to make the Stunky super strong?" Michael said.

"Yup. I got the recipe from a garden catalogue. It's supposed to make plants grow faster, and since it works on plants then I guess it can work on pokémon, right?"

"Ha! Wouldn't it be the coolest thing if its tail grew to the size of a truck?" Brendan grinned. "We could spray the whole town!"

Michael snorted. "Well, what are we standing around for? Let's do it!"

"Yeah!" Cory lifted the container and held it over the cage. "Begin the countdown! Ten!"

"Nine!" Michael shouted.

"Eight!" Brendan joined in.

"Seven!"

"Six!"

"Five!"

"Four!"

"Three!"

"Two!"


"ONE!" Cory turned the box over and let the mixture spill out, releasing a puff of dust. Michael's nostrils burned from the smell of fertilizer. The Stunky rushed to get out of the way, but the cloud swallowed it whole. The cage shook with the force of its flails.

"Hold it, hold it!" Michael cried. "It's gonna fall off the table!"

Cory steadied the cage with his hands. His glasses were coated in brown film. "The transformation's happening! Get some water, quick!"

Brendan ran out of the garage and came back a few seconds later with a hose in his hands.

"Get back!"

He pulled the handle, and a jet of water shot out of the nozzle. The blast hit the Stunky against the wall of the cage, causing the whole thing to topple off the table. The remains of Cory's mixture trickled away into the driveway, revealing a shaking Stunky. Its fur was black and dripping, but other than that, there was no change. Michael's shoulders sagged.

"Well that was a waste of time."

"Tell me about it." Brendan lowered his arms, letting the dripping hose sag to the ground.

Cory kneeled down beside the Stunky, wiping his lenses. "I don't get it. I got the recipe right..."

"Well apparently you didn't." Michael said. "What catalogue did you get it from anyway?"

Cory shrugged. "Don't know. Some magazine my mom had in her closet. It's from like five years ago."

"That explains it," Brendan said. "They've probably come up with a better one now. One that actually works."

The three boys stood in silence for a while.

"So what now?" Michael crossed his arms.

Cory thought for a moment, then smiled. "Hey, I have an idea." He went back to the shelves and took down a second box. This one was larger, and was filled with glinting metal equipment.

"What's that for?"

"I read in the paper that a hospital was offering this new type of surgery. Debridisomething. We could try it on the Stunky."

"Nice." Michael smiled.

"But we don't even know what Debridi is," Brendan said. "What if we don't do it right and it dies?"

"So?" Cory said.

"I don't know, it just seems like a waste. We did all that to catch it, and we didn't even have time to play around with it. We should do the surgery last."

Cory shrugged and placed the box back onto the shelf. "Whatever. Hey, let's go watch the Space Race now. We'll sneak some soda from the fridge."

"Sure," Michael said.

"Right behind ya."

The boys took off their gloves and cleaned up the best they could before going into the house. Michael was the last to leave the garage. He took one final look at the Stunky, who had watched them in silence, then slammed the door behind him.




//////



The three of them proceeded into Cory’s living room, a narrow space stuffed with a bit more furniture than it was meant to hold. A TV box rested on a long table, consisting of a rounded screen, some dials, and a single speaker on the right side. Michael and Brendan settled onto the couch in front of it, and after bringing them their drinks, Cory began to fiddle with the channels. He fixed it on News Channel Five, which was owned by SNN, the largest news company in the country. It aired the Space Race twice every day without failure — once in the morning, once in the evening. Even when there weren’t any new developments, they always aired commentaries and analyses, keeping things fresh instead of filling all their time with recaps of previous coverage. Over the course of a few months, Michael learned more than school had ever told him about outer space, the Earth, and even a bit of rocket science.

Once the channel logo had appeared, Cory sat down beside the other boys and opened his soda. “All right, here it comes…”

The screen flickered, and the image of a middle-aged man appeared, sitting behind a desk against the backdrop of a starry sky. This was Sinnoh’s main anchorman, Freddie Horner. During the Space Race, he was an almost ubiquitous presence on the news — and despite the other guests and reporters who appeared on the program, it was always him before the camera whenever there was a new update.

For the next two hours, Michael sat leaning forward, wholly immersed in his words. Apparently, Team Rocket’s spacecraft had taken snapshots of the moon, and had transmitted them successfully back to Earth. The spacecraft had been launched early in January, as part of Hoenn’s campaign to unlock the secrets of the first extraterrestrial body within man’s reach. After Freddie Horner recounted the mission, the TV displayed a slideshow of the pictures. The moon was nothing interesting, just a giant grey ball covered in craters. There was no evidence of life on its surface, neither people nor pokémon.

Michael and his friends devotedly tuned in every afternoon to check up on Sinnoh's own team of scientists, Team Galactic. Like most of the Sinnoh population, he, Cory, and Brendan shared a desire to beat Hoenn — although, like most of the Sinnoh population, they weren’t always sure what this meant. Most of the time, the Space Race seemed like a back-and-forth relay, one team one-upping the other with a new record or novelty. Occasionally, a real milestone was made, but after the excitement over the actual event wore off, it would still boil down to one country getting the glory, while the other seethed with frustration and tried to top it.

Eventually, Michael simply took ‘victory’ to mean making the most groundbreaking accomplishment, something that would tip the scales in Sinnoh’s favor so much that they’d be permanently stuck there. He didn’t yet know what that would be, but he knew he would recognize it when it happened.

In the meantime, he kept a mental tally of achievements as the years went by, celebrating whenever their country was in the lead. Up until that moment, it had been a tie. (Team Galactic had sent the first man into space the previous September.) But of course, the Rockets always found a way to turn the tables.


Once the program was over, the boys ceremonially slapped their hands against the pillows of the couch, mocking Team Rocket and admonishing Team Galactic for letting their guard down.

“I’m telling you guys, this is only the beginning.” Cory was saying. “My mom got the latest paper, and it says in there that Team Rocket’s got the whole mission planned out. They’re gonna land a person on there, and then they’re gonna start building a huge colony that can support life. People might actually start living on the moon twenty years from now.”

Brendan wrinkled his nose. “Sounds like a drag to me. Farming my own food, living under a dome, seeing the same people over and over again… It’ll probably be years before they figure out how to hook up a TV there.”

“Well, look on the bright side,” Michael said. “If Team Rocket locks themselves up in a bubble, that’ll leave Team Galactic free to focus on the important stuff.”

“Like what?” asked Brendan.

“Like this.” Michael stood and went over to a table, where Cory kept his newspapers. He took the latest issue of Sinnoh Post, the one that had first announced the moon pictures, and began to leaf through it. “I forgot where I read this, but someone said that Team Galactic found samples of the kinds of rocks that were on the moon, and they’re completely different from anything that’s found on Earth. Most of the rocks here have been weathered too much, and because of all the things that live in the soil, they’re always changing and being broken down. But the rocks on the moon aren’t being weathered at all. They’re much stronger and harder, and if Team Galactic can synthesize a new material from them, they can revolutionize the way we build stuff. So while Team Rocket grows seeds in plastic bags, Team Galactic’s gonna be improving life for people back here. And that’s what’s important.”

He lowered the newspaper, and saw his friends looking back at him in interest. With his can of soda in hand, Cory nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s some deep stuff. I like your thinking, Mike.”

Michael gave a shrug, but smiled. “Hey. I’m just saying what I read.”

Cory brought over the entire stack of newspapers, and the boys spent some time flipping through the old news, picking out interesting articles and laughing at the advertisements. But Michael knew that he was running on borrowed time, so he was careful to take his leave before too much of it could pass. Filled with a renewed sense of desire and purpose, he parted with his friends and set off towards home.

Getting back up to his room was always harder than coming down, but this time it was made worse by constantly-dripping cage, and the Stunky pausing every so often to shake the water off its hide. When he finally arrived in his room, Michael dropped the cage onto the carpet with a sigh. He pulled the rope back up and closed the window.

"Welcome back."

Michael jumped. At first he thought he was hearing things, but when he turned around, he saw that Patricia was seated at his desk. Her arms were folded in her lap, and her expression was perfectly calm. Michael's heart sank.

"I come into my son's room to check up on him, and I see this." She gestured towards the rope. "And an open window. Two hours later, he comes back. With the Stunky." Patricia rose to her feet. Behind her eyes, a storm was brewing. "Let me guess. You were at your friend's house, weren't you?"

"It's not what it looks like!" Michael said. "I was going to put it back! To release it back into the wild!"

"STOP TALKING!" Patricia roared, and Michael shrank against the wall. She rose from her chair and advanced towards him, fingers curling into fists. "I know you weren't just about to release it. The cage is soaking wet, and that Stunky looks like it's been through a hurricane! It was one thing to harass that poor creature in school, but to take it home too? What were you planning on doing with it, hmm?"

Michael cleared his throat. "Just... keep it as a pet."

"You know what? I don't believe you. I don't believe a single word that comes out of your mouth anymore. I really, truly thought that when I took you to get your Turtwig, everything would be all right. And now that I see this, I'm beginning to wonder whether I should go back to Sandgem myself and return it! Apparently you didn't hear what your teacher said. Your behavior got you suspended from school! This isn’t about some detention or referral to the guidance counselor anymore — your entire future is at stake here!”

Michael scoffed, and Patricia spread out her arms emphatically. “What, you don’t believe me? You don’t think that’s true? What about when you get to high school? When all the other kids around you are going to be focusing on their goals and their careers, and you’re still sitting in detention for chasing Stunkies around playgrounds, what do you think that’ll say about you? What do you think it says to a mother when she finds out that her son wastes his time running off from class, sneaking into movie theaters, and fooling around with school property? Oh, I forgot. You don’t care about any of that. After all, school doesn’t matter to big bad Michael. As long as you’ve got the coolest records and are up to date on all those shows you watch, everything’s fine and dandy.”

“So you’d rather have me challenge Gyms?” Michael blurted. “Go around battling some stupid tournament instead of learning? I thought you wanted me to focus on school!”

“You and I both know that grades aren’t your problem, Michael,” Patricia replied. “Your problem is your attitude! And believe me, if you don’t fix that, then your brains will go down the same way. You can’t avoid it forever. Either you start listening to what adults are telling you and start acting responsibly, or you become a dropout and spend the rest of your life switching from job to job. I think you know which of those options is the right one to choose, and learning to treat other living things with respect is a good place to start! Because right now, you obviously have no constructive input from any of your activities. Even worse are those hooligans you hang out with…”

Michael clenched his fists. "Will you stop including my friends into every single complaint you have of me? You blame them for everything! In a few weeks you'll start blaming them for the fucking bad weather!"

Patricia's flush deepened. "Don't you dare talk like that to me! If I hadn't found out what you were doing with that Stunky today, the same thing would probably have happened to your Turtwig!"

"That's not true!" he said automatically.

But Patricia lowered her gaze, shaking her head. "I can't believe this... after all I've done for you, this is how you repay me? Have I been that bad of a mother to you?"

Michael contemplated answering, but held his tongue.

No. Not now.

"You treat pokémon as if they were your toys! Your toys, Michael! Do you understand how that makes me feel?"

Michael turned away and crossed his arms.

"Answer me!"

He remained silent.

"Michael, you can't spend the rest of your life like this! I know you care about your future as much as I do!"

Michael had been determined to remain silent for the rest of the conversation, at least until his mother had finished blowing off steam. But right at that moment, he felt something click. A series of events assembled in his mind. School. His brothers. His childhood. The montage nearly overrode the image of his mother, red and haughty and ticking like a clock.

Then, the words seemed to push themselves forward. "You don't care," Michael said. "You never did, and you never will."

There was a terribly long silence. Patricia drew back a little. The words seemed to strike a chord somewhere in her heart, and for a moment, she just stood there.

When she finally spoke, her voice wobbled. "Whatever you have going on in that head of yours, you better kick it out fast. For now, you're grounded. No phone. No television. No contact with those kids. You are not to set foot outside this house without my permission. That will give you some time to think about what you just said to me." Patricia left without another word. The door slammed loudly, but after that, the house was dead quiet. Even the Stunky had stopped whimpering. It was peering through the bars now, looking at Michael curiously.

It's all that stupid Stunky's fault... Michael decided. But he was too weary to do anything about it.

The conversation between him and his mother had been short, but in that time, Michael had managed to sever their already fragile bond. And deep down, he knew it would never mend again.
 
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Noheart

The Abysswalker
Hey, thanks for the PM. :)

I didn't find anything wrong with the grammar, and it was a really nice read. I wonder what Rowan's mom will do now?

Can't wait for the next chapter. See ya around.
 

Horizon

Fufufufufu...
What a great story, nothing like I suspected. I thought Rowan was going to be some goody two-shoes kid who loved pokemon. Insted he could care less about them.

And the situation between him and his mom... very exciting. I wonder if he's going to run away? Maybe to his friend's house? I also wonder what happened in the past that caused their relationship to be hanging by a thread. What happened to his family? Where's his dad and brothers?

And the turtwig and stunky... I was half expecting the turtwig to have experiments tried on because of it's color. I feel bad for the poor stunky...

Very good! I can't wait for the next chapter.
 

Mrs. Lovett

Rolling writer
Piekid 11: Thanks, and I appreciate your comment!

Horizon: Most of the answers will come in the next chapter. As for the family issues, that'll be more spaced out.

Paddypower: All right, PM list updated.

Thanks for the reviews everyone! See you next chapter. :)
 

Horizon

Fufufufufu...
I almost forgot, can you add me to the PM list?
 

Isosceles

Aspiring Poliwhirl
Lol, I joined just so I could comment on this fic.

You've portrayed rowan in a very different manner. Yes, you have the troublesome kid, but he really seems more than that. Maybe stemming from those unknown family issues...? His treatment of Pokemon also struck me. Much like Horizon said, I assumed he'd be the nerdy kid who absolutely adored Pokemon and the like, but he really couldn't care less. Perhaps another family issue? Meh, prolly way off.

As far as grammar goes, I think I saw Stunky spelt "Sunky" somewhere, but I don't have the initative to go find it >.< Everything seemsneat and easy on the eyes, and the description okay.

Anyways, a great read, and I can't wait for more. If you be so kind as to place me on your Pm list, I would love it ^_^
 

Mrs. Lovett

Rolling writer
Lol, I joined just so I could comment on this fic.

You've portrayed rowan in a very different manner. Yes, you have the troublesome kid, but he really seems more than that. Maybe stemming from those unknown family issues...? His treatment of Pokemon also struck me. Much like Horizon said, I assumed he'd be the nerdy kid who absolutely adored Pokemon and the like, but he really couldn't care less. Perhaps another family issue? Meh, prolly way off.

As far as grammar goes, I think I saw Stunky spelt "Sunky" somewhere, but I don't have the initative to go find it >.< Everything seemsneat and easy on the eyes, and the description okay.

Anyways, a great read, and I can't wait for more. If you be so kind as to place me on your Pm list, I would love it ^_^
If that's the case then, welcome to the forums :)

Oh, and the typo was here:
With the rest of its length in hand, Michael pushed open his window and threw it out. The rope unraveled noisily, extending all the way to the ground. He then went over to his closet and took out the Sunky's...
Thanks for pointing it out! I've been trying to fix it, but it won't let me edit my post... oh well, I'll keep trying.

I'm glad you liked my fic! PM List updated. (Oh, and Horizon, I placed you on the PM list as well. I just didn't have time to tell you so.)
 
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Dawn_Hero

Written Insanity~
Sorry it's taken me so long to review Chapter Three, I've been really busy. >.<

Anyways, yet again, another wonderful chapter Mrs. Lovett. :p The only mistake I saw was that you accidentally called the Stunky Sunky once, but I see another reviewer already informed you of that.

It's so weird seeing Michael act so horribly towards Pokemon! I always feel so horrible every time I hear him doing stuff to that poor Stunky... xD I feel so bad for that poor little thing. I can't wait for the day he finally turns over a new leaf lol. For some reason, I just can't get enough of Patricia, too. That poor mom.... D: Blah. I'm rambling. Anyways! I couldn't spot any mistakes and it was a great read, so all in all, excellent job! Can't wait to read Chapter Four. :D
 

Super_Nerd

Writer of Stuff
Original take on an established character--I love how nothing about this is what we expected to see. I like the way you're slowly hinting at why Rowan's so messed up, and I really like Emerson--or, the fact that not ALL professors are kindly and inhumanly cheery.

As for the shiny, yeah it's garystuish, a little, but I don't mind that. They way he reacts to it is just too funny.
 

Mrs. Lovett

Rolling writer
Two new reviews!

Dawn Hero: Thanks! And yes, I've been trying to edit that wretched typo, but I keep getting a 500 Server Error. It's probably the thing with those 'error words', but I'll just have to keep trying.

And yes, it'll be quite fun to see Professor Tree turn over a new leaf. Haha. Get it? Get it?

Yeah, I'm rambling too. Thanks for the review!

Super Nerd: I'm glad you liked it, and I'm really glad you liked Emerson. His behavior is funny to read and even more funny to write.

Next chapter will give us more insight into Michael's behavior... but I'm gonna work through it to make sure it's at the right pace. It'll be posted on Friday, maybe Thursday evening if I have the time. See you all then!
 
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Mrs. Lovett

Rolling writer
Oh gosh, is it Friday already? All right, here's four for you all! This one took me a while, mostly because I had to organize a ton of information and events. After this, the story starts getting interesting :)

Enjoy.

0.4

The next few days dragged on in silence. Michael spent most of his time in his room, only now, for a change, it was by choice. As the hours went by, he lay spread-eagled on his bed, watching the window light dance across the ceiling.

So this is my summer... Michael thought. It's one thing to be suspended, but stuck in my own house? I hate this... I hate my life.

Occasionally, his gaze trailed over to the pokéball that lay on the windowsill. He had moved it there so it wouldn't bother him, but now it had been caught again by a patch of light, and glinted mockingly.

Michael welled with loathing. That thing would be better off at the bottom of a lake.

There were no noises coming from any of the other rooms, and the only mark of passing time was the ticking clock on the wall. Michael had thought of filling the hole by calling his friends, but he found out much too late that Patricia had disconnected the phone cord, leaving a bare plastic deadweight on the table. She had done the same for the TV, so he couldn't watch the Space Race either.

By the looks of it, the wounds from their conversation were still oozing, as Michael saw from the empty take-out containers littering the dining table, and half-finished bowls of leftovers in the refrigerator. His mother did not call him for meals, nor announce when she bought something new, so he had to come down and assess the inventory himself every day. In a way, this relieved him. With Patricia no longer breathing down his neck, he was free to eat all the sweets he wanted. Every night he snuck up to his room with handfuls of gummy worms, lollipops, and snack bars.

Other than the traces she left behind, Michael never saw his mother around the house. She never came to his room to continue her reprimands or check what he was up to. Heck, she didn't even ask him if he was hungry or maybe even bored of being shut up all day. Patricia had just... vanished.

Days passed. The sun came and went. His garbage can filled to the brink of overflow, and his supply of fresh clothes dwindled.

One day, out of sheer boredom, Michael began searching through his shelves, which to his surprise, were filled with things he didn’t need. He found three empty packs of gum and a first-grade math workbook sandwiched behind some paperback novels, where they had been collecting dust all these years. He tossed them aside. Most of the space in the higher shelves was taken up by action figures, ones he hadn't played with in years. He left those alone, since they could at least serve as decorations. His piggy bank, due to his frequent spending, contained only five pokédollars.

Michael cleared out the shelves slowly, often pausing on books or boxes that interested him and searching through their contents. He pushed what he didn’t need to the center of the room, and arranged everything else in a new way.

The next day, he moved on to his drawers. Michael had never troubled himself with organization, no matter how many times Patricia tried to force it onto him. Instead, he rolled up his shirts and pants into balls and threw them in, compressing the lumpy layers when he needed more room. Now, he took them out and smoothed them, placing them back in small stacks.

He found some of Richard's old shirts buried in the depths of the bottom drawer, since this had once been his room. Michael folded these carefully, then placed them in a corner to themselves. The only things he did toss aside were an old jacket, a pair of pants that didn't fit him, and a single red sock.

By the end of the third day, Michael had managed to turn his den into a semi-orderly space, one that even his mother might have been proud of. On top of that, he had done it without any sort of spite or impatience. He found this rather funny, since it would usually take a good few bucks from his father to bribe him into cleaning.

But there was still one place he hadn’t touched. The closet.

Michael’s gaze trailed over to it now, and he felt a wave of reluctance. The closet was an enigmatic cave, one whose front was light and orderly, and whose back was a stomach of junk that sucked in objects to make itself grow. He had tried to sort through it in the past, but found it to be so vast and unintelligible that he decided it was better to leave it alone. So for four years, he confined his activities to the front, leaving the back to its own devices.

But the more he looked at it, the more it seemed to pull him in, flooding him with curiosity. Finally, he went to open the doors, ignoring the Stunky's squeals of protest. His eyes ran over eleven years' worth of junk that was piled inside: books, sweaters, bags, toys… all of it lay in mounds on the floor, and peeked out from the depths of shelves.

Slowly, Michael reached into the pile on the floor and pulled out a random object. It turned out to be an old notebook. He flipped through it, and saw large, pointless sentences that were written by a kindergartener's hand. Stupid. He threw it into the trash pile.

The next object he pulled out was an empty tissue box. Why haven't I thrown this out yet? He tossed this as well.

Michael got down to his knees and began to comb through the pile with his hands, dealing with it in manageable chunks. He took out an assortment of clothes and toys, some of which he recognized, others which could have come from another kid’s closet in a different dimension. At one point, Michael felt his hand close around the corner of a thick, heavy book, which felt nothing like the lightweight fictions or the glossy workbooks he had gotten so far. He stood up and began to wriggle it out. After a considerable amount of pulling, he managed to get it loose, and stepped back into the light to see what it was. It was an old family photo album.

When did I ever have this? Michael wondered. He ran his fingers over the cloth binding and opened it to the inside cover. There was a name penned on the line: 'RICHARD ROWAN'. Michael’s eyes widened in recognition. This had been his brother's.

After a pause, he turned the page.

The first thing that greeted him was black-and-white photograph, showing a fat baby wrapped in blankets. He couldn't tell who it was, but by the faded image and the worn edges, it was most likely Brian. He had been born first. Michael’s eyes trailed down the page and found a line of text beneath it.

"September 26th, 1946. Our son, Brian Rowan, one year old!!!" It was Patricia's handwriting.

The second photograph was of his parents, Patricia and Andrew. Their faces were pressed together against a grassy background, and they wore toothy grins. The caption read: "A day at the park!"

Michael chuckled, and he sat down on the floor, placing the album into his lap. He saw several more pictures of Brian on his later birthdays, then Richard's pictures, and finally his own. Michael's eyes lingered on a particular photograph that was too long to be placed vertically. It showed him at about eight years old, sitting on a swing, his head ducked down as he stared at the sand. Behind him was a spectacular sunset, a splattered canvas of red and orange, framed by the crowns of trees. The memory of the day returned to him in hazy fragments — he had been mad for some reason, and someone had taken the picture anyway. There was no caption.

The next one was a full family shot: him, Richard, Brian, and his parents. As he looked at their faces all bunched together, it suddenly struck Michael how different they were. He, Richard, and his father all had similar features, and though the color was faded in places, he knew that their hair held the same shade of black. Patricia and Brian, on the other hand, had caramel-colored hair and softer faces. They were different from the rest, and not just by their appearance.

For one thing, Brian had never shared any hobbies or interests with his brothers. When Michael went to play outside with Richard, Brian never went along. There were only photos of Michael and Richard by the basketball pole, Michael and Richard running in a meadow, or them and Andrew cheering at school events. The captions were always done by Richard’s hand.

In contrast, photos of Brian showed him at honor roll assemblies, standing beside science projects, or holding awards. Patricia was nearly always present, smiling next to her star student of a son. The rest of the family appeared infrequently, and later, was altogether absent. And Michael knew why.

It was because, for as long as he could remember, they had led separate lives. But at the time he hadn't felt it, because it hadn't mattered. His brother and father were the best companions he ever had, and so long as they were around, he was whole. They helped him with school, joined him on excursions, and pulled him through difficult times. The three of them were always the first ones out the door in the morning and the last ones to come in before dinner. When Richard became old enough to join the school soccer team, it had been a celebration. Michael and Andrew accompanied him to every practice and reserved the highest bleacher seats at games, which became the seeds of countless traditions.

But for some reason, Patricia was never really a part of their picture. She preferred to stay at home when they went out, sitting with Brian and helping him with his homework. Like her, Brian was always orderly and in control. If Richard and Michael were the leaves, then to her, he was the fruit — the family's success. Patricia often talked of raising her other sons to Brian’s standard, but never went out of her way to fulfill it. Rather, she always disciplined them from afar, pacing up and down a boundary that she never crossed. Likewise, Andrew recognized Brian’s talents and praised his studiousness, but he never did it quite like Patricia did.

The more photos Michael saw, the more clearly he sensed their division. It seemed almost like a game, one that could have gone on forever, had it not been for one thing that made everything come to a screeching halt.

That had been Andrew.

As Michael turned the page, he felt his breath catch as he saw familiar places: wide hallways, padded chairs, and a sunny, white hospital room. His father’s. This was one of the few times in the album where the whole family was gathered together.

He remembered those months perfectly. He and his brothers would spend long hours in the room during visits, taking turns with Patricia, sometimes starting a game or conversation to lighten the mood. One particular photo stood out the most. It depicted eight-year-old Michael sitting in a chair on a night shift, his eyelids drooping and his lips chapped. It was the last hospital picture, because the next morning, the news would come. And there were no pictures for that day.

On the surface, everyone had been the same, raw and tear-stained. But Richard seemed to crash the hardest, and his transformation resounded in every corner of Michael’s heart. While Andrew had been a father to Brian, he had been Richard's and Michael's best friend. And the loss of a best friend took a bit of someone along with it.

Left as the head of the family, Patricia was revved from her temperance and turned into a restless, glitching machine. She tried to include Michael and Richard in her plans as much as she could, but their needs never corresponded with her abilities. When Brian's meetings and Richard's game dates clashed, her instincts told her to drive Brian first, which ignited arguments in the car, and resulted in Richard shutting himself up in the house, or staying in school until his events ended. Michael tried to stay with Richard on such occasions, but more and more frequently, Patricia made him tag along with her.

"You can’t sit around like this,” she would say. “You have to start doing something.”

“I want to be there for Richard,” Michael responded.

“Richard has his own ways of coping that don’t involve those around him,” Patricia said. “You, on the other hand, have to get things going.”

And so it had happened. Over the years, while Richard drifted away, Patricia began to make Michael her second favorite. She commended his good papers and forced him to correct bad ones, and took input from his teachers to pinpoint his skills. She did everything she had done with Brian, as if she’d seen the gleam of some hidden talent deep within him, and was now in a frenzy to dig it up. Michael had never been able to understand it. He only saw how Richard plummeted, how their walks grew rarer, and their conversations shorter. There was hardly a day when his brother didn’t seem sad or resentful, but whatever he was thinking, he had ceased to share it.

Michael turned the page of the album, anticipating more pictures, but instead he found a bare page filled with frantic handwriting. Richard had written a letter to their father.

Way to go, dad. Ever since you left, I've been stuck with an idiotic older brother and a mom who couldn't care less about me. Nothing’s the same without you. I don't know about them, but Michael and I miss you more than you can imagine. Fuck it, you were the best guy in the world. If you're watching me right now dad, I'm sorry. But I can't take it anymore. My entire life has been hell, and it's all because of mom and Brian. I've been trying to stick around for Michael’s sake (he reminds me of you sometimes, you know) but I don’t think I can handle much more. Mom's trying to turn both of us into Brian-clones, and she’s acting like the people we were when you were there should never have existed. So I'm gonna leave. I don't know if it’s right or wrong in her eyes and honestly I don't care. I just want things to be back to the way they were. Just you, me, and the little guy. I'll miss him too.

Hope to see you soon,

Richard.


Michael’s heart quickened. There was no date on the letter, but from the content, he approximated it to be sometime after the fight.

It had happened in the autumn of the following year. Patricia had gone to work full-time, and Brian was focusing his energies on getting into a good high school. Both of them were fighting the turbulence and moving forward. But through it all, Michael and Richard had roamed in a daze, still trying to find their way back to their stronghold of good and security. Even to each other they seemed blurred, and their gazes no longer struck together like they used to.

That evening, he, Patricia, Brian, and Richard had been seated at dinner, at the same four-person table that now stood in the kitchen. Out of the blue, Patricia announced that Brian had been accepted at Cobblers Academy, an elite boarding school in Canalave City. From the way she had said it, Michael knew it was something they should have been very proud of. But all he had done was nod, and Richard did nothing at all.

Patricia noticed, and questioned Richard.

"Shouldn't you be happy for your brother?" she had said.

To this day, Michael remembered how Richard had replied. Calmly lowering his fork, he said, "And when was the last time you were happy for either of us?" Then, he got up and left the room.

Michael went to bed, hoping the tension would blow over like it had always done. But when he got up the next morning, he found that Richard's room was empty. No angry note. No farewell. Nothing. Patricia acted like she didn't notice. Brian made no comment either, but his gaze followed Michael throughout the entire day. When the time came for spring cleaning, Patricia hauled out the clutter from Richard’s loft and allowed Michael to move in from his bedroom downstairs, but under an unspoken condition. Michael was prohibited from mentioning his brother's name, or bringing up the subject of his disappearance. From now on, he only had one brother. Brian.

But in the back of his mind, Michael did question it. He thought it over and over at night, sometimes to the point where he got a headache. Turns out, the answer had been in his closet the whole time. Richard had been sick of his home life too. Only he had actually gotten the guts to do something about it.

Michael slammed the album shut and tossed it back into the closet.

You never appreciate what you have until it's gone... He repeated the phrase several times in his mind, staring into the cluttered pit.

Eventually, his gaze trailed off towards the window again, for the hundredth time that day. It was much dimmer outside now, and the clouds that had been red earlier had faded to purple. Michael's eyes ran over the same trees and the same houses that he had been looking at for his entire life.

He knew Patricia couldn't stay mad at him forever. But when she did forgive him, what would happen next? He'd probably be forced to raise the Turtwig, and let the Stunky go. Patricia would detach him from his best friends, then proceed to sign him up for science club once summer was out. A Brian-in-the-making. She'd fill all his college applications before they would even get to him, and he'd be shipped off to some distant college, studying something he didn't even care about.

And then what? Michael scowled at the window. With her, my life is a void. She wants to control me like a fucking puppet. What if I don't want that? Just because Brian liked it doesn't mean I have to!

Michael's eyes shifted towards his desk, then almost by accident, found his school backpack slumped on the floor beside it. He sat up. The zipper was partially open, with torn notebooks peeking out of the pocket. As he stared at it, Michael felt an idea dawning upon him. It did so in stages, like the gradual pull of the tides, which crept further after every retreat till they came back to sweep the whole shore.

I don't have to follow her orders. I can make my own future. Just like Richard. He felt himself smile.

Michael crawled over to the backpack and turned it over, emptying its contents onto the carpet. Then he stood and went around his room, refilling it bit by bit. He packed a change of clothes, and a pair of socks. He broke open his piggy bank, folding the last of the money into his wallet, and zipped it up into an inner pocket. Then he scooped the pile of candy on his desk and dropped it in as well. Lastly, he packed a notebook and pencils, figuring he might want to write to his friends.

With his backpack full, Michael rose to his feet and gave his room a final once-over. It was by no means empty. His shelves looked chock-full even after the cleaning, and the lump of junk was still there at the center of the room, practically on the verge of collapse. Not so long ago, Michael would brag to his friends about how much his posters meant to him, and how his records were of top-notch quality. But now, he never wanted to see any of it again. What had once been his pride and joy now only reminded him of his pathetic state.

Just as he began to turn for the door, a faint squeal cut him off. The Stunky was whining again. Michael dropped the backpack and rushed to open the closet. The pokémon was there as expected, with its tail drooping and its eyes narrowed from the sudden light. Michael scowled down at it.

"What do you want now, Skanky? I'm leaving, you got what you wanted. No more nasty, good-for-nothing hooligan on your back."

He stepped away, but the Stunky squealed again, making him turn back.

"What, what is it?"

The Stunky eyed him unblinkingly.

Michael narrowed his eyes. "You pokémon have given me nothing but trouble. All you do is freaking look at me. You think you’re so intelligent, you think you deserve some kind of special treatment, but you just run around everywhere like pests. You get in the way and you whine and you... what? Stop staring at me!"

He got no response. Michael groaned.

"Do you want a playmate or something? Here!" He pulled the pokéball from the windowsill and twisted it open, releasing a burst of light. When the Turtwig had emerged, he unlatched the Stunky's cage and set his starter beside it. "Your new friend. Happy together? Go play or something." Michael backed away.

He realized what he had done a second too late.

The Stunky let out a screech of freedom, and tore across the room towards the door.

"NO!" Michael exclaimed. "Get back!"

He dove after it, but his hands gripped empty air, and he fell to his stomach. The puffy purple tail bounced as the pokémon raced down the stairs into the living room. He scrambled to his feet, but before he could stand up, something else rammed into his leg and knocked him down again. A second cry rushed past him.

"TURTURTUR!"

"Get back, you cretins!" Michael shouted.

The Turtwig ignored him. As he watched it hop down the stairs, Michael's hands flew to his head. "Argh! I'm such a fucking ditz!"

He grabbed the cage and the pokéball and ran for the stairs, forgetting all about Patricia, feeling only the storm of anger churning inside of him.

He stomped down to the bottom floor and swept his gaze over the living room, and his eyes locked on a dark, moving projectile. The Stunky was scurrying around the couch, and the Turtwig was snapping at its heels, barking madly. They scampered all over the furniture, displacing pillows and bumping tables.

Michael tried to run after them, but compared to their speed, he was a lumbering giant. The moving bodies zipped around and between his feet, but no matter how quickly he turned, all he could assess was the trail of damage they left behind. The Stunky’s claws tore gashes in the rugs, and feathers spilled from the pillows of the armchair, whipping up in flurries when the pokémon zipped past. Finally, Michael caught sight of the Stunky as it fled the sitting area, running in the direction of the kitchen and front door. But instead of going all the way, it turned into a corner and dove between the legs of a tall metal table, which held Patricia’s favorite vase. At the same time, the Turtwig skid to a stop and rounded on its cornered prey.

Michael stopped cold.

The Turtwig began to creep forward slow steps, his chin lowered to the carpet like a canine’s. Meanwhile, the twitching Stunky tried to push itself even farther against the wall. The vase gave a slight wobble, and Michael clenched his fist.

If that thing breaks... I'll kill both of them.

The Turtwig continued to advance on the table, pointing forward with the branch on its head, which was sprouting with leaves. Instead of going for the kill, however, the pokémon stopped a couple feet away and stood there, growling. Michael approached, and when he had reached its side, the Turtwig looked up at him with shining eyes.

It took Michael a few seconds to realize what he was seeing. The Turtwig had cornered the Stunky. It had helped him.

Michael stood there for a moment, the pokéball and cage hanging limp at his sides. "Well... cool."

With a smile, he unlatched the cage door and kneeled down in front of the table. "Here, Stunky Stunky. Back to your home."

He snapped his fingers, but the Stunky didn’t move.

Damn it, smart Stunky! Michael gritted his teeth.

He scooted closer, pushing himself and the cage as carefully as he could. “Come on, get in the cage.” He continued to crawl forward, till he felt his head bump against the glass table, and saw the legs sway.

No... please no...

The more his fear mounted, the more he grimaced. "Come on, you good-for-nothing buttface! Get in!" Michael placed the cage down at an angle, and reached from the other side to grab the Stunky’s tail. Its body remained still as his fingers inched towards it, but right as he felt them graze its fur, the Stunky snarled and jumped away. It pushed past the cage and went for the kitchen.

"No, you skag! Argh!" Michael turned around and started to rise to his knees. But midway, he felt his shoulder bump against something hard, which gave way beneath it moments later. He looked over, but it was too late — the vase and table were tipping to the side, and in a matter of seconds there was a loud bang and crack as the vase split in three against the floor.

The Turtwig took off like a bomb, racing after the Stunky, barking as loud as a siren. Michael rushed after them, forgetting about the mess, wanting only to stop the damage before it could spread. He burst into the kitchen and saw the Stunky running circles around the room, bumping and scratching at the appliances. The Turtwig chased after it, blocking it whenever it tried to escape the room, and gradually forced it into a corner. Then the Turtwig lowered its chin, brandishing the branch on its head, and began to whip it from side to side. With each swipe, a leaf dislodged from the branch and sliced through the air like a razor, striking Stunky’s skin and bouncing off. The Stunky screeched and backed away towards the sink, where the Turtwig made a daring leap and tackled it to the ground.

Michael acted immediately. He opened the cage all the way and slammed it over the Stunky, letting the Turtwig wriggle free. He lifted the cage, scooping the Stunky up along with it, and locked the door. When everything was secure, he let out a breath, and twirled the cage so that the pokémon’s face was directly in front of his.

"There. And you're never coming out again. Hear me?" Michael banged the cage with his hand, and the Stunky growled.

"Tur-tur!"

Michael looked down. The Turtwig was looking up at the cage as well, rather proudly. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, you helped, all right? But you're going in too." He twisted open the silver pokéball and aimed it at the Turtwig. A bolt of light escaped the capsule and struck the pokémon, turning its body into a white silhouette. Moments later, it was sucked away and vanished.

Michael was just about to put it into his backpack when he heard a clatter from an upstairs room.

"Michael?" came a voice. "Michael!"

Patricia had stirred. Her footsteps were growing louder.

Shit! There was no time to put the pokéball away. Michael rushed to the front door and unlocked it. From somewhere behind him, he heard a gasp. Patricia had seen the vase.

"Michael, where are you? What happened in here?"

Hope you like living alone! Michael smiled. He slipped through the door and closed it quietly, then hobbled away as fast as his load would allow.

Once he had cleared the driveway and made it to the sidewalk, he slid behind a large bush and sat there for a moment, catching his breath. Through the leaves and branches, Michael could see patches of his house. The door was still closed, which meant that Patricia either hadn’t heard him leave, or didn't care. Either way, she definitely couldn't see him here.

Michael waited for a few more minutes, and when he was certain the door wouldn’t open, he removed a candy bar from his backpack to settle his growling stomach.

Beside him, the Stunky pawed at the wall of cage. "Stu stu!"

"Shut it!" Michael hissed. "I didn't eat dinner. And no, you can't have any. This has to last me for the entire night, maybe even breakfast tomorrow."

The Stunky fell silent. Michael turned his head to face the street, following its path with his eyes. It went down, down, down, all the way to the beginnings of the city. In that distant strip of land, Jubilife shone with nighttime activity.

Once he had finished eating, Michael got up and continued to walk at a casual pace, eying the rows of houses he passed. Some glowed from inside like jack-o-lanterns, and others were completely dark, meaning that their owners had left for the summer. Michael knew the community's every curve and bump, after years of running and playing in it. It was the place he loved, but it was also the place he had to get away from.

His footsteps thumped soft and alone against the sidewalk, in tune with the beat of his heart.

The neighborhood wasn't gated, nor did it have an official name. Its exit was marked by a sign that read 'JUBILIFE CITY - 0.5 MILES'. When Michael reached it, he paused, and looked out at the dark, quiet road.

Am I really doing this? Am I really about to run away? The absurdity of his actions unsettled him. After all, where would he go? What chance did he stand at thirteen, with five dollars in his wallet?

Michael looked back. Somewhere among the sea of houses was his. Patricia had probably realized the house was empty, and was having a hysterical fit. Or, she might have gone back to her room, too lazy to investigate.

Either way, he thought, I'm sick of that place. And whatever my future is, I want to build it myself.

Michael exhaled. His decision was made. He hoisted his backpack onto both shoulders, tightened his grip on the cage, and started forward.

Both his brothers had left the house when they could, setting off on their own to start a new life. Now it was his turn.
 
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Dawn_Hero

Written Insanity~
Awww, Michael ran away? D: Poor Patricia... Yet again, another wonderful chapter Mrs. Lovett. There were only two errors I saw when I read through.

He slid into a patch of untamed land near their house, where sat for a moment, breathing heavily.

Small, next to nothing mistake. You just forgot the 'he' before the 'where.' :D

Somewhere among the rows houses was his.

Well, I don't know if this is a mistake or not. It's phrased really awkwardly to me. "Somewhere among the row of houses was his" may be a better fix, but that's really all up to you if you want to swap it out or not.

Hmm. So Patricia like, totally stopped caring for him? D: That's so sad. She's gonna be so depressed when she sees Michael ran away too. The whole photo album with Richard was an excellent addition to the story. I dunno why, but Richard's letter gave me Deja vu for some reason. xD It'll be interesting to see what happens to Michael now that he's on his own with his Stunky and Turtwig. :D

Great chapter, Mrs. Lovett. Can't wait for the next one!
 

Mrs. Lovett

Rolling writer
Awww, Michael ran away? D: Poor Patricia... Yet again, another wonderful chapter Mrs. Lovett. There were only two errors I saw when I read through.

He slid into a patch of untamed land near their house, where sat for a moment, breathing heavily.
Small, next to nothing mistake. You just forgot the 'he' before the 'where.' :D

Somewhere among the rows houses was his.
Well, I don't know if this is a mistake or not. It's phrased really awkwardly to me. "Somewhere among the row of houses was his" may be a better fix, but that's really all up to you if you want to swap it out or not.
EDIT: I just understood what you meant. I read your post wrong the first time around. And yeah, that sentnece does seem a bit awkward, so I replaced 'among' with 'along'. Thanks!

So, I'm glad you liked the chapter. See you next time!
 
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Isosceles

Aspiring Poliwhirl
Yay, new chapter ^_^

I was surprised at Micheal running away, but it gives the story some different plot branches to choose from, so I like it. The discoloured (I refuse to use the term "shiny") Turtwig helped Michael with the Stunky, so perhaps it will respect Michael. I can't see Michael caring thouggh, but I hope that soon he will open his heart. Turtwig was always my favourite starter from the 4th gen ;)

Quick question: Why doesn't Michael just release the Stunky? It's been causing him no end of problems, but he hasn't yet even thought of getting it away from him. Will it maybe become a party member?

Anyways, great chapter, revealed some past information, and advanced the plot along very nicely. Can't wait for next week :)
 

Mrs. Lovett

Rolling writer
Quick question: Why doesn't Michael just release the Stunky? It's been causing him no end of problems, but he hasn't yet even thought of getting it away from him. Will it maybe become a party member?
Michael doesn't release the Stunky because he went through a lot of work to get it and wants to keep it as a prize. I'll explain more of this later, but he wants to keep it with him so he can exact his revenge on it for causing him that many problems. Releasing it would be giving up, in a way.

As for the Stunky's future, I have something very good in store for it, but I won't reveal that yet.

Thanks for reviewing, and see you next chapter!
 

Manaphyman

Up all night
Its not to say that both of these chapters weren't good, they were. It's not that the plot wasn't good, as it was. I throughly enjoyed them both, but they were too short. Let's focus on chapter four.

You depicted the death of Michael's father and the ensuing emotional strife and turmoil it caused. I think you captured that emotion of that disaster perfectly, and for that you should be commended.

I also like the fact that Michael ran away and kept the Stunky. I just would have preferred that both chapters were longer, that way we would have had some better description of Sinnoh back in the day, and perhaps advance further in Rowan's journey.

Keep up the good work, but maybe tweak your length and description a bit. I want to see a little more of your Sinnoh.
 

Mrs. Lovett

Rolling writer
Its not to say that both of these chapters weren't good, they were. It's not that the plot wasn't good, as it was. I throughly enjoyed them both, but they were too short. Let's focus on chapter four.

You depicted the death of Michael's father and the ensuing emotional strife and turmoil it caused. I think you captured that emotion of that disaster perfectly, and for that you should be commended.

I also like the fact that Michael ran away and kept the Stunky. I just would have preferred that both chapters were longer, that way we would have had some better description of Sinnoh back in the day, and perhaps advance further in Rowan's journey.

Keep up the good work, but maybe tweak your length and description a bit. I want to see a little more of your Sinnoh.
All right, I understand what you mean. It's just that these two cover a time when Michael is stationary, and all he really sees is his house and the places closest to it. The next chapter will see him in the city, so I'll have more things to work with.

So, thanks for the honesty, and I'll definitely try to do more in the chapters to come. See you next time!
 

Horizon

Fufufufufu...
So Micheal ran away... because he wanted to follow in his brother's footsteps. I didn't think Micheal would do something like that, especially for that reason. Nice twist.

I like how in the rush with the Stunky escaping, caused him to bring his pokemon with him during his run-away. Also how the Turtwig helped him corner the Stunky shows that even though how cruel Micheal acts towards pokemon Turtwig will respect him. Maybe Stunky will too someday?

As for Patricia... I don't feel bad for her. She should've learn from Richard that she can't force her children to do things in her own interests and neglect theirs. I'm not saying that Micheal should keep hating pokemon, but she shouldn't force him to do things that aren't his interests all the time.

And there's my opinion so far. If anything it would be nice if you made the chapters longer. But besides that, keep up the good work!
 
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