From: Dreadite ( Subject: [PW!] Burnt bridges. Newsgroups: Date: 2000/03/14 (Forward. The path once traveled that can no longer be traveled is the past. Burning the bridges behind you every second of the way. I wrote this at school because class got canceled today. Enjoy.) *** "Naes!" At the sound, a boy stood up from the garden he had been playing in, and looked towards the house in the distance, looking for the source of the voice.. "Dinnertime, Naes. Come inside, and clean up, before our guests arrive." The child threw down the stick he had been playing with, and ran towards the house. There are many things to be said for mothers. First and foremost, never make one angry. And never was it more apparent than in THAT particular mother. *** The whirl of a blade through the air, the metal swish as it changes direction, and the laughter of children watching the man perform his art. As the crowd parts, a man in dark colors strolls up to the swordsman. "Impressive show." "Thank you, sir." "I am interested in studying that art, myself. Elegance in weaponry, it is." "Really now? My name is Tham, the world's best swordsman," boasted the performer, and then laughed. "But then again, I've never met another, so that title is my own ego only." "I am Dreadite." *** "Pokemon is no art, boy! It's a battle!" The yelling young woman smirked, and pointed towards the league arena. "Agatha ends your streak right here." "I doubt that. Kabutops." "And I choose Muk." Without a word spoken, the battle was over. Agatha recalled her pokemon, and opened the door to the Hall of Fame. "They say half the battle is the start, the other half the end. You out leveled me, I saved you the trouble of doing the dirty work." "That happens when you deal with people older than yourself." "Don't get snide with me, or I'll reconsider and close the door on you when you leave." The man laughed, and set the pokeballs on the computer. "Pidgey. Kabutops. Chefable. Ninetales. Your pokemon are hall of famers!" *** "Naes! Those pokemon are poisonous, don't touch them!" The man leapt back, his friend following. And they fell. The friend was a splatter on the floor. And Naes was only able to see his mother's face before the darkness swallowed him. Pitfalls? The crunching sound, bones snapping. Naes felt sharp pain all over, and then breathed his last breath. (Seventeenth birthday gift? No... what was that? When was that?) (It never happened.) "Dreadite. Dinnertime!" The memories changed, distorted. Abandoning him. His friend... no, he lived. He abandoned his friend to die. End. Okay, there you have it. ^_^ Have fun, everyone. Dreadite ----- The darkness, all around. Ghosts are like shadows, escaping death but for a moment, like shadows flitting from light. Ghostly we are, flitting from death but for a moment.