From: Dry (dryad48@aol.commoner) Subject: [PW!] Two Kinds Newsgroups: alt.games.nintendo.pokemon Date: 2000-09-28 23:20:41 PST [PW!] Two Kinds by Dryad 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 still tired. 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 care. 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 wrist. 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...