From: Dry (email@example.com)
Subject: [PW!] Two Kinds
Date: 2000-09-28 23:20:41 PST
[PW!] Two Kinds
It sounded at first like a small ocean wave fumbling onto a few rocks
seeped into the sand. So faint, fragile, and furious, it fooled the ears with a
seemingly innocent and harmless call. Still, it was music to the ears. But the
coast was not close enough to be seen or heard from. Maybe it was the wind
dancing to the song it whistled in the tree canopies. It brings them to life
and makes them languish, loaf, loosen, and lean sleepily. And they grasp the
soil as the wind makes them reel, rave, and recoil desperately. But there was
no breeze that shuffled through his dark hair. It almost sounded like all the
screams and pains of hundreds of people at once. Hopefully, it was only an echo
distorting a simple laugh.
If he still had any sympathy left within him for himself it may as
well all fade away to become an uncertain dream yearning to escape. Derrick
felt all alone in this world now. Anti-Team Rocket was his only sense of
security and now he was no longer a member. Before, it felt like a new
begining, a chance to start over. A chance to forgive himself. It felt like the
begining still, but only this time the end is what began. What kind of life
does a person who controls the destinies of other animals live. How can he make
a living earning money through brutal fights of his so called 'animal friends.'
The pokemon didn't seem to feel that way. But they were raised only to feel for
their trainer. It was all they knew how to think.
Derrick had no other profession. He learned only to succeed in the
slavery of pokemon. Should he come crawling back to the ATR leaders and kiss
their toes, polish their shoes, give them time? Maybe he didn't need to. It
hasn't been very long since he last saw them and they probably didn't even know
that he even left. Down the other fork in the road, towards the crackling
smooth pavement of Viridian City, Derrick could picture another life. He saw a
bitter old man, the kind who isolates himself into his own pale, one room house
with shattered windows, dull lamp lights, and peeling paint. He was the kind of
person the little boy would fear as he walked by the house shivering, being
told wicked tales of murder, curses, and evil spirits as the essence of the
disgruntled, bitter old man's confinement. He could see himself as only two
kinds of people, and both were hopeless.
A tiny piece of ash skid across Derrick's hand and stung him for less
than a second as he flinched in miniscule discomfort and surprise. He brushed
his hand once and was about to continue walking until something fell from the
sky and onto Derrick's left eyelashes. He blinked a few times and held his eye
in pain. When the pain was gone he removed his hand and looked at it, there was
no blood, but a tiny piece of black ash, the same kind as before was there.
Derrick looked all over the ground. More and more ash was littering the ground
like a light drizzle at the brink of autumn. There was no wind, so it was
strange, that this was falling from nowhere like stained rain.
Derrick looked up to the sky and squinted his eyes to avoid the ash.
He tried to see where the ash was coming from, but the whole sky above him was
like a rolled out black carpet. The sky was falling at first it seemed. Then
Derrick remembered that it had become close to midnight by this time, and after
all his silent and tiresome walking, he finally snapped out of his mental
picture of a full red sun setting over the horizon of the ocean, reflecting
rays of complimentary shades of red and yellow. Like in a child's nightmare,
Derrick tortured himself with the thought of the tree branches reaching out to
him, or a distant monster hunting him down from the shadows, getting closer and
closer by the minute. And at some times, he wanted it to happen.
Derrick sighed and looked at the sky again, and just at the right
time. A burning huge piece of rock dropped from the heavens and made a loud
crashing noise like a tidal wave or a million trees tumbling at once. At first
he thought it was a meteor coming to kill us all, a surprise terrorist gift
from God to punish us, but Derrick realized he could still breathe. And he was
About a mile away, the forest began catching fire. "An airplane
crash...." he said to himself. "Shit.." He began running along the path faster
now, tripping over any unevenments and being held back at times by his backpack
being grabbed by a long flexible tree branch. If he was too late to save them
he could at least get some excersize. A few minutes later, Derrick could see
the fire and smoke coming from the forest off to the side of the road. It was
much bigger as he anticipated, as if Ivory Island itself fell out of place and
just ended everything in one swift mistake.
Derrick kept on running anyway. He ran through the forest; he ran
through the trees. He ran and he ran until his head hit a stinging hot branch
and he fell over. It fell next to him as well and as he looked out of the
corner of his eye he saw it was a piece of metal. The fire was begining to
shine brighter as Derrick crawled towards more of the debris. There was so much
of it, as if what crashed was the size of a city.
A sudden realization and fear struck over Derrick and he lost his
breath. He began furiously pacing around and kicking debri here and there.
Desperate to find any signs of it being false, he began jabbering nonsense and
mumbling prayers to God, Jesus, Akumachu, anyone who would send him a sign. He
found nothing, nothing but metal parts here and there and a huge forest fire.
He sighed and walked away from the clearing towards Viridian City or Pewter
City, whichever was closer. He didn't know and right now there was no need to
Derrick turned around and took one last look at the haunting mess,
walking backwards. He bumped into a tree and another part of the wreckage fell
into his hands. It was a sign, but it was hard to make out the words. He
brushed away some of the ashes clinging on it and squinted at the faded
letters. There was an arrow on the sign pointing to the right. All he could
make out was: " - A - E N S" and on the bottom, "N - S -."
He heard some shuffling in the leaves above a tree next to him, and
Derrick jolted his head that way and looked. An evil looking, black bird glared
back down on him. They stared at each other for a while as the flames crackled,
and then the bird took off into the midnight sky.
Derrick walked back on the road with the sign clenched in his
trembling hands. ATR was no more. He was not a part of it and couldn't ever go
back. He didn't care how it happened right then. He wondered what it would be
like if he had stayed with the others there. He wouldn't have died alone, and
maybe he wouldn't have known he was going to die. Would it have been better
than being alone and bedridden in that old house with the old broken windows
and the old cracking walls?
"What if the forty, fifty years of pain can be avoided?" Derrick
thought to himself. He hesitated at first, then pulled out his knife and held
it against the moonlight. It shimmered dully. He closed his eyes and placed the
cold blade across his arm, pressed against it, and dragged it along up to his
Screaming silently in pain, Derrick dropped the knife and crouched.
He began sobbing, but quickly wiped away his tears with his red stained hand.
He didn't want to embarass himself in front of himself. He took out a sweater
and wrapped it around his arm and tied it tightly. Derrick stood back up again
and kept walking, trying to ignore the pain. To commit suicide would have been
cowardly of him.
To Be Continued
The End is Nigh...