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Stories Write a story to catch Pokemon. A Grader will then decide if it catches or not.

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Old 02-25-2008, 02:53 PM
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Default Reflection

Yes, this is my first capture story, and yes, it’s for a Hard level Pokemon. I was feeling inspired and up to the challenge. =]

It’s sort of a Christmas Carol/Five People You Meet In Heaven storyline that gets a little bit complex here and there. I hope whoever grades this is able to understand what I was trying to express.

Anyways, Enjoy. =]]


Reflection - It’s a funny thing. A memory that seemed so distant can become outstandingly apparent with just a few seconds of reminiscence. It’s like pulling out an old home video from years ago; the one that was hidden in the back drawer of the closet, forgotten beneath piles of unkempt photo albums and coffee-stained postcards. After you dig up that ancient VCR, you can remember the precious moments of the past as though they had just occurred, making you question how you even forgot them in the first place. But for those few seconds, minutes, or even hours, they are engraved in your mind like etchings on a stone, mud stains on the white t-shirt of your mind.

Yes, for some, reflection is a wonderful tool. It’s chance to recollect all of the scattered memories hidden in the deepest, darkest crevices of your mind. But for some, it is a weapon of deficiency. It resurrects the demons that sheltered themselves in those dark crevices; demons that you imprisoned there in the first place, never meant to seek their way into the isolated fortress of your consciousness.

For me, reflection was a little bit of both. In life, I would have never wanted to seek that video tape out of the overstuffed closet. I would have been just as happy to keep it buried beneath those meaningless piles of paper to dry out, never making its way into that dust-covered VCR. They were dreaded memories - memories that only accentuated my imperfection. Memories that made me want to crawl up in a corner and rock myself to sleep. But they were more than just memories; they were me. It was time step out of hiding and stand up to myself once and for all - before it was too late.

There were no video tapes in that room. There was no closet, no photo albums, postcards or VCR. There was just me - alone. Shut out from the world until the rusty, old clock stopped ticking. And I can promise you that there was no one around who cared enough to change the batteries. The television screen crackled with black and white fuzz – two colors battling it out on a clear screen, never getting anywhere, but pursuing nonetheless. I wanted to reach for the remote, but my heart just didn’t have the motivation. So, I sat there staring at the screen, my back going numb from the rock-hard mattress it lay upon.

I glanced over to the mirror that hung to the right of the black-and-white battleground. It was the most motion I had made in quite some time. Maybe minutes, maybe hours – I had no idea. The clock was running out of batteries, remember? My appearance was completely revolting. I couldn’t believe how much had changed in such a short time. The skin was hanging from my face, clinging on just enough to stop itself from falling to the floor. Beneath my eyes were bags so heavy that it appeared as though they were swimming in puddles of tar. I would have smiled, but I didn’t have the energy and it probably would have made the image all the worse. Who knows what was lurking behind those pale, crusting lips. I didn’t even want to imagine.

I’d had enough of observing the face in the mirror. I don’t even want to refer to it as my own, as that wasn’t me. At least, I didn’t think it was. I didn’t want it to be. I turned my eyes back to the television. It seemed the whites were taking a lead, but maybe I was just imagining things. The intermittent beeping in my ears continued to drone on, making me more nauseous by the minute. It seemed to grow in volume as the battle on the screen in front of me intensified. The colors were battling it out to the death, clashing together to the sound of a high-pitched note that no composer could ever put on a keyboard. The sounds and sights were too much for me to take – I closed my eyes. When my eyelids hit the puddles of tar below, everything seemed to disappear instantaneously. I saw nothing, I heard nothing. I was in complete peace with the world once again.

I was not asleep, but not awake. I remained in a sort of conscious, yet unaware state of mind. It was relaxing for a while, but I soon became uncomfortable as I was approached by an unfamiliar acquaintance. It introduced itself without words, taking my hand and bringing me to somewhere I’d never explored before. Reflection, it was called. A mysterious being of inexplicable wonder that drew me forth without beckoning, but pushed me back without rejection. I stood with it, let it embrace me, felt its chilling warmth against my fragile bones. I saw nothing, heard nothing – but felt too much.

The world around me shifted unexpectedly. The colorless space evaporated into a bright and bustling metropolis. People rambled around me like the black-and-white warriors from the television, bumping into me with insensible gruffness, but failing to knock me over. I felt rejuvenated; my joints weren’t aching, I could stand without falling, and hair had found its way back over my forehead, brushing into my eyes. I looked down past the cluttered stack of papers that rested in my arms, realizing that I was indeed a younger self. But something was not right. I knew this place, this situation, this very instant. It had happened before, years ago, on a day that I had so long tried to push out of my mind. So badly, I wanted to drop the papers and run from the place, but I was swept into the flowing river of the past without warning, retracing the same steps, the same emotions, the same feelings.

I looked down at my watch.

Crap, I’m late.

With the wind at my heels, I pushed through the crowed as politely as possible, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone around me. My un-tucked, white, button-up shirt flew in the wind, the tie around my neck loosening itself slowly, like a convict attempting to escape the noose. My untied dress shoes pattered on the ground, threatening to fall off at any given second to be lost in the crowd of laypeople scurrying this way and that. I looked down at my side, hoping to see my companion at my heels, but all that filled my vision was a cluster of shoes, stepping on one another in frantic negligence.

“Scout?” I called, coming to an abrupt stop in front of a pale brown building. The current of people slammed up against me from all sides, shouting rude words to the response of my apologetic sighs. I pushed off to the covered porch of Joe’s Coffee Shop where individuals were calmly enjoying their coffee and scones. In contrast, I stood in the middle of them, searching about frantically for my companion while juggling a mountain of papers. Suddenly, I felt the tickle of tiny claws rise up my right leg, and looked down to meet the gaze of the grinning Pokemon attached to my body.

“Ah, there you are.”

I sighed in relief, patting the creature's head with my free hand. He purred happily in response and crawled up my back to wrap himself around my neck.

“Now you stay there, you hear?”

The Pokemon nodded its fuzzy head attentively; it’s smooth, silky fur warming my neck like a thousand scarves.

“Only a few more blocks to go; we’d better get moving.”

I started making my way back towards the river of people, but was stopped by a cry from the creature on my neck. Scout stood up high in an investigative position and pointed its narrow nose towards the entrance of the coffee shop.

“Not now, buddy. We’re late already.”

But the stubborn Pokemon persisted, pushing its snout even further towards the shop.

“Gosh, there’s no pleasing you, is there? Make it quick, ok?”

I followed Scout’s command and pushed open the door to Joe’s Coffee shop, instantly being hit by an aromatic wave of blended coffee beans and cool air conditioning.

“There’s nothing to see here. And if you wanted a treat, you picked the wrong shop.”

But Scout was never wrong. There was indeed something to see in this shop; something I hadn’t noticed until it spun around, with its long brown hair flowing through the air like somehting right out of a shampoo ad. I had to clinch my teeth to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor. The golden goddess was approaching me; did she actually recognize who I was? My heart fluttered like a thousand Butterfree in the springtime, and I felt lightheaded with bewilderment.

“Clarisse!” I blurted, unexpectedly. The woman stopped abruptly, nearly spilling the mocha latte she held in her hands. I hadn’t realized how loud my cry had been, and many people in the shop looked at me harshly.

“Sorry,” I said quietly, almost at a whisper.

“Um, can I help you?” Clarisse asked cautiously after an awkward silence, not moving any closer.

“D-Don’t you remember me?” I smiled widely, hoping to spark her memory.

“Oh my god, Miles?” My heart lifted. She did remember me after all. “I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Yeah, I know,” I replied, bashfully.

“Aw, Scout?” She crooned, “How you’ve grown! I remember when you were just a little Sentret!” Scout purred proudly. This was going well.

“H-how have you been?”

“I’ve been great. Work at Pokemon Daily is better than I could have imagined. I was just taking a quick coffee break, actually.”

“Hah, I wish I could say the same.”

“What do you do?”

“Uh, I’m a, er, I mean, I work for Justin Daniels, head of the Pokeball industry.”

“Oh, wow,” she seemed interested. “That must be great! Are you a manager, or knowing you, probably an executive?”

I blushed. “Actually, his assistant.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at my response. I turned my head down in embarrassment. God, she hadn’t changed in four years – her brunette bangs flew over her crystal-blue eyes majestically, and her smile was as bright as sunlight on the most beautiful day. I was in love all over again.

“Well, I probably have to go now, someone’s waiting for me…”

“Wait!” I interrupted loudly. I had to ask her out on a date. She was so beautiful. Maybe lunch sometime, or dinner and a movie? “Would you, err…”

A man creeped up suddenly, hugging Clarisse from behind. He was everything I wasn’t; tall, dark, handsome – the whole package. I hated him right away.

Clarisse giggled and kissed him on the lips. My heart sank. “Miles, this is Devon, my fiancé.”

I wanted to crawl up in a ball and die right then and there. My heart was ripped to pieces so minuscule that not even a puzzle mastermind would be able to put them back together again.

“Pleased to meet you,” Devon said, flashing a set of pearly-white teeth.

“I- I have go,” I said brusquely, “It was nice seeing you, Clarisse.”

I pushed past the couple and burst through the glass doors of Joe’s Coffee Shop. My legs were going limp, my arms as well. The heart in my chest pressed its way into my throat, beating there like a dry-swallowed pill that just wouldn’t go down. I forced myself into the crowd of people, allowing them to push me this way and that. I heard them yelling at me, but that didn’t matter any more. My arms gave way, letting the papers fly all about the windy street, making the people around me all the more furious. I knew I’d be fired for losing those documents, but my job meant nothing now; nothing meant anything to me. People pushed harder, the world began to spin, and I toppled about like I’d had one too many drinks. The ground met me faster than I’d expected it would, and it hit harder than I’d imagined, as well. The colors faded, the world disappeared, and I was left alone once again.

Within seconds, another memory made its way into the realm of my consciousness, sending me into another situation that I’d hoped to never experience again. I was younger now – not a boy, but not yet a man. Most would have expected to feel fresh, renewed and brawny at such an age, but not someone like me. I was short, fragile and pale, and probably looked half my age. I smelled of cheap cologne stolen from my father’s medicine cabinet, and was wearing a rented tuxedo that didn’t even come close to fitting. Basically, I looked like some dweeb about to attend his grandma’s funeral.

But that wasn’t the case. Sure, I was sitting in the back of my parents’ minivan, but beside me was the most beautiful person imaginable. Dressed in a long, red gown with her hair pinned up in a fashion that must have taken hours of preparation, my dream girl stared miserably out the window. Of course, I was too love-struck to notice her discontent. On her wrist was a tacky purple corsage from the dollar store, courtesy of yours truly. It matched the one in the breast pocket of my jacket, elucidating the fact that she was indeed my date to the prom. Clarisse sighed to herself in desolation. I sighed to my self in ecstasy. It was a match made for disaster.

As the minivan puttered to a stop, I leapt out of my seat and opened the door for my date, who refused to make eye contact with me. She started ahead towards the hotel without me as the driver rolled down the window.

“Now you be safe. No funny business, mister.”

“Yes, Dad,” I replied, embarrassed.

“Ooh! And don’t forget to take pictures!”

“Yes, Mom.”

The car pulled away and I turned towards the hotel, smiling widely with excitement. Clarisse was already a ways ahead of me, so I decided to run a bit to catch up with her. Bad decision. Within seconds, I was down on the ground in the middle of the sidewalk. A couple guys passed by with their dates and laughed as I struggled to my feet. I brushed the dust off my dress pants and continued walking towards the hotel, feeling rather ashamed. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered that night was me and Clarisse.

By the time I reached the entrance, my date had already gone inside. I pushed through the revolving doors and entered the lobby of the hotel. It was outstanding, to say the least. The walls and ceiling were covered with intricate designs of dragon Pokemon dancing, flying and battling, and the floor was so polished that my reflection was even clearer than in the mirror I had at home. This was going to be a great night.

Or so I hoped. As I entered the ballroom, I was instantly lost within the mingling and dancing high school students. I was significantly shorter than most of the others, so I had a hard time finding my way around the monstrous room. After struggling to find Clarisse for a decent amount of time, I decided to renounce my ambition and go get something to eat. I figured I’d catch up with her later.

I sat alone on a velvet chair next to the buffet as I twirled the glass of punch in my hands, watching the ice cube become consumed by the whirlpool of a cheap excuse for fruit juice. I looked around for anyone I knew, particularly Clarisse, but I failed to recognize any one of my friends. Ok, so maybe I didn’t have any friends. But that didn’t matter, I had Clarisse, remember?

Finally, I caught sight of my date on the dance floor. She looked amazing in her long, flowing gown as she danced to the blasting techno music. I was a terrible dancer, but I decided that I could just give it a shot. It’d be more impressive than sitting by the punch bowl, that’s for sure. I got up to my feet and started walking towards the goddess in red, when suddenly, I stop moving. Fear had taken hold of me. I can’t dance, I thought to myself. Who was I trying to fool? It was better that I just stay seated with my punch, and maybe we’d talk later. I refilled my now-empty punch glass and returned to the secure vicinity of my velvet chair.

The dance went by painfully slow and I never really got a chance to talk to Clarisse. Her friends were always around, or something just made the opportunity to approach her virtually impossible. However, as the prom was gradually coming to a close, I had the ideal opportunity to make my move. There she was, standing alone up against the wall, no one around to distract her or pull her away. I approached her with caution, walking in an awkward way that appeared smooth to me, but obviously not to her. Clarisse turned her head away, pretending not to notice me, but I kept on walking, smiling that awkward smile. Then, he came. Josh Flemings, the shortstop of the baseball team – a complete and total airhead that all the girls were madly in love with – standing directly in the path between me and the girl of my dreams.

“Back off Clarisse, y’hear?” he threatened, pushing me slightly on the shoulders.

“I-I just wanted to talk to her…” I replied, withdrawing slightly.

“Well she doesn’t ‘wanna talk to you.”

“But, she’s my…”

“Yeah, your ‘date,’” he said, mockingly. “Listen, buddy. The only reason she agreed to come with you was because her mom made her.”

I was shocked. “T-That’s not true.”

“‘Course it is! Why would anyone want to go to the dance with you, anyway?”

I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t believe it. “Leave me alone,” I said, trying to push past the big-boned giant.

He shoved me back, nearly sending me flying across the ballroom. “I said, back off of her,” he retorted in a voice so terrifying that it would have sent even the toughest man running.

So badly I wanted to hit him back and be the winner for once. But my life just wasn’t meant to turn out that way. Admitting defeat, I sulked back to my velvet chair and spun the cup around in my hands once again. Why was I like this? Why couldn’t I be brave and tough like Josh? That’s the kind of person everyone loves, why not me too? Thoughts swirled around in my head like the ice cube in my punch glass. Always chasing themselves around the same path, but forever ending up in the same place they started. Soon, my head began spinning with the ice cube, as well. I was going to be sick.

I leaned over to the trash can beside me and waited for the foul liquid to be pushed back up my throat, but nothing came. I just sat there, staring into a garbage bin and thinking of all the ways its contents related to my miserable life. Suddenly, my eyes fell upon a piece of trash that I’d soon regret noticing. Sitting among the plastic cups and half-eaten chicken legs was a cheap, purple corsage that matched the one in my breast pocket. My heart broke harder than ever before, right there over that trash can. The stupid jock was right – Clarisse wanted nothing to do with me.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as the questions came pouring back into my mind, filling it with despair and grief. Why am I like this? Why me? Why now? What caused all this in the first place?

The dimly-lit trash can began to fade from my vision, its colors swirling into a mix of shades unknown to man. I began to feel distant once again, only to be thrown back into another cycle of remembrance. Another memory, another time, another place – and I definitely was not ready for this one.

Last edited by Blast the Stereo; 02-25-2008 at 03:01 PM.
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Old 02-25-2008, 03:00 PM
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Default Re: Reflection

As my vision began to steady itself, the shades of nothingness began to fade into vibrant color, and the world around me became significantly larger and expanded. After a few seconds of observing my surroundings, it was clear that I was even younger now, a boy no more than about 8 years old. My clothes smelled of my mother’s signature laundry detergent and my long hair swept over my eyes like wings; it felt just like the old days. At my side stood a young, pre-evolved Scout, balancing on its tail in observant curiosity. I then began running forward, Scout still at my side. I was swept into the current of yet another memory from the past, living it fully just as I had with the first two.

“You guys, wait up!” I called to the two figures walking briskly ahead of me. The cool autumn air brushed up against my nose, turning it rosy red in draftiness. “Come on, wait for me!”

Mercifully, one of the figures stopped and turned around to face me. She was a little girl the same age as me with flowing brown hair and crystal-blue eyes.

“Miles, you slowpoke! Can’t you keep up?”

I chuckled, flashing a broad, childish grin. I had caught up to her within just a few seconds and slowed to a stop, panting hard.

“Come one, we have to catch up with Josh!”

The girl took my hand in hers, pulling me forward without giving me a chance to catch my breath. Scout bounced along at my side with incredible vigor, while I felt like I could pass out at any second. Finally, we had caught up with Josh, and were able to slow to a walking pace again, much to my relief. Josh was my age, but it looked like he was five years older. He stood several inches taller than me and had what looked like a permanent scowl painted on his face.

“What took you so long, Clarisse?” he grunted.

“Miles was being slow,” she responded, winking.

“Well, no more lagging behind. We’re almost there.”

I nodded sheepishly, intimidated by the threatening tone in my companion’s voice. Clarisse had stopped pulling me, but kept her hand cupped in mine, swinging it lightly as we walked.

“I’m excited,” the girl piped.

“Me too,” I added, smiling at her.

“You shouldn’t be. What your about to see will most likely scare the socks off your feet, so you’d best get prepared.”

Neither of us responded to Josh’s crude remark. We were too awe-struck by the gargantuan structure that stood in front of us. Ok, so it probably wasn’t all that tall, but from the eyes of a nervous 8-year-old, it was the biggest building in the world. Standing among a cluster of orange-red trees rested the Bordeaux Mansion, the previous home of the wealthy family of the same name.

“According to legend,” Josh began in a spooky manner, “old Miss Bordeaux disappeared in this house a long time ago. Shortly after, the family began to hear strange noises at night and they moved away in fear.”

My knees were shaking already.

“People say that the old woman’s spirit still haunts the mansion, and some even claim to hear her frightening scream from time to time.”

I’d had enough of the scary story. “Ok, that’s a great story,” I interrupted. “Let’s head back home now.” I turned around swiftly, anxious to leave the terrifying mansion grounds.

“Not so fast, buddy.” Josh grabbed me by the back of the shirt, pulling me towards him. “I dare you to go inside alone for five whole minutes.”

“No way,” I refused.

“Come on, Miles,” Clarisse advocated, “you can do it.”

“B-But I…”

“Please, Miley. Do it for me.”

How could I resist those sparkling blue eyes? Clarisse was my best friend, and I didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“‘Atta boy,” Josh smirked, pushing me towards the robust front door. “Five minutes, that’s all you need.”

“Five minutes, that’s all,” I repeated under my breath in an attempt to comfort myself. Warily, I began walking towards the front entrance with Scout by my side. I pushed open the door to the mansion and took my first step in, gingerly shutting it behind me. The building’s interior was eerily dark, and it was nearly impossible for me to find my way around. Soon enough, however, I stumbled upon a staircase and decided to take a seat until my time was up. I sat there for quite a while with Scout on my lap, listening carefully for any signs of peculiarity.

Then, I heard it. A shrill scream filled the hall, causing me to stumble off the step and on to the hard, marble floor.

“Who’s there?” I questioned shakily, trying to find my way back to the door. The scream sounded again, this time louder - it was getting closer. I fell to my knees in fear. “Please, leave me alone!”

A final scream sounded, this time what appeared to be just a few feet in front of me. Suddenly, the creature illuminated itself, causing me to recoil in fear. It was what appeared to be the floating head of a woman, but in a ghastly shade of purple. It had long hair that blew about its face wildly, and wore a strand of crimson red beads around its neck.

“Dreavv!” it cried, in a high-pitched, supernatural voice, before letting out yet another shrill cry.

Terrified, I scrambled towards the entrance and felt for the doorknob with reckless endeavor. I yanked it open and ran out to the other two children who were standing there patiently.

“3:14,” Josh chuckled, shaking his head.

“I-I saw her!” I exclaimed, winded in shock. “Her head… i-it was floating there… but purple… and her scream…”

Josh laughed out loudly, and I stared at him, puzzled. Did he not believe me?

“You little fool!” He cried between hearty laughs, “That was just a Misdreavous trying to get a scare out of you!”

“A-A Pokemon?” I stammered.

Josh continued his arrogant laughing. “I knew you’d get scared!” he exclaimed. “You little wimp!”

Clarisse couldn’t hold in her giggles, covering her mouth in embarrassment. Tears were starting to fill my eyes.

“Come one, Clarisse,” Josh said, “Let’s leave the wimp alone before he wets himself in fright.”

The pair began to walk away, both laughing at my foolishness. I sank to the ground in despair. I had made a fool of myself in front of my best, and not to mention, only friend. Putting my head in my hands, I began to sob hard. The tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I hated Josh. I hated Clarisse. I hated myself. I just wanted to disappear.

I sat up in bed, abruptly. My head was pounding, my heart was racing, and tears were streaming down my cheeks. Reality set itself back in again, but my mind wouldn’t regain its calm disposition. The memories had invoked emotions within me that I’d never expected to feel ever again – feeling I never wanted to feel again. I shoved my face in my overstuffed pillow and began to sob uncontrollably. In the background, I could hear the familiar, intermittent beeping sound. Gradually, as my sobs began to weaken, the beeping became slower and slower until all that remained was an off-pitch note holding itself for what seemed like an eternity.

I was back in that state of unaware consciousness – not awake, yet not asleep. I sat in the vast emptiness alone, feeling no pain, no sadness, no emotion whatsoever. Then, it came back – that little demon that caused all the grievance in the first place. It took my hand and gently lifted me to my feet. My body followed obediently, not trying to pull away from the beckoning force, despite how much my heart wanted to. It called me forth without demanding, somehow making me obey its every command. The being embraced me once more. I wanted to struggle away, wanted to scream at the top of my lungs and curse it for all the pain it had caused me. But I let it hold me, feeling its warmth up against my tired body.

Suddenly, it let me go, but I stayed floating there as though I was still in its grasp. It pushed itself away from me ever so slightly; not too far, but enough so I could see its body entirely. For the first time, I was able to notice its features, and it became something more real than before. It was a tiny, white, humanoid being with stubby legs and long, flowing arms. Its head was almost larger than its body, shaped like a golden star with tassels hanging from the ends. I had never seen such a being before in my life, but I felt like it was my best friend in the whole world.

The creature spoke to me without words. It did not move its lips, or send any message telepathically, but I knew exactly what it meant. I was overcome with the emotions it wanted me to feel, the ideas it wanted me to think, the truth it wanted me to admit. A simple question it asked me - a question that was never spoken, but I comprehended completely. I did not have to answer. It knew what I would say. It knew me better than I knew myself.

The entity embraced me once again, this time harder and more passionately. It spread warmth throughout my body like a heating pad, but kept me cooler than the finest air conditioner. I let all my muscles relax, let it take hold of me completely as though I was its puppet. I closed my eyes, felt calm and at peace with myself. It was a moment of sheer perfection.

A shrill scream caused me to tumble off the marble step I was sitting on. I sat up in fright, looking about me. I was back in the mansion again, but this time, the world around me seemed so much realer, so much more alive. Another scream. I stood to my feet, my knees shaking. Wait, that didn’t happen in the memory. Suddenly, I was in control of the world around me. This was real.

The mysterious creature revealed itself just as it did before, but I did not turn and run; I stood my ground, looking it in the eye courageously. The Pokemon seemed surprised at my reaction, and tried giving another scream in hopes of frightening me. It didn’t – not this time. The door to the mansion opened suddenly, and from behind it came Josh and Clarisse.

“Hah,” Josh chuckled, “I see you’ve stumbled upon old Miss Bordeaux. Or should I say, Misdreavus. Let me take care of this, shrimp.”

He strutted towards me, showing off his muscular build. I pushed him back. “Back off, Josh,” I said, calmly but dignified.

“What? You’re kidding me! If you think you and your little Sentret there can fight off this thing, then by all means take your best shot. Just don’t come crying to me when you get your butt kicked.”

I ignored Josh’s arrogant response. “Scout, Quick Attack!”

The Pokemon, who was sitting on its tail, bounced into the air with incredible speed, launching itself towards the floating enemy. However, the attack failed to make contact with Misdreavus, sending Scout flying right through the Pokemon’s translucent body and onto the hard marble floor. In retaliation, Misdreavus spun around and shot a Psywave, sending Scout skidding across the floor further.

“It’s okay, Scout,” I cried, “Try Fury Swipes!”

The Sentret launched itself into the air once again, sending its claws right trough Misdreavus’ body, doing no damage whatsoever. It repeated the attack three more times, failing to make contact even once. Misdreavus cackled in sadistic pleasure.

“Miles,” Clarisse called, “Normal attacks don’t affect ghost types. You have to try something different!”

Josh laughed to himself. “He’s doomed.”

Of course! How could I have forgotten? My cheeks started to blush, and I was overcome with the familiar feeling of embarrassment. But I shook it off before it could set in, turning my attention back towards the battle.

Misdreavus began to spin around rhythmically in the air, in a sort of a dance-like motion, singing off-key notes that were almost painful to hear. I recognized the attack right away: Perish Song. If the battle did not finish in three turns, both Misdreavus and Scout would faint, ending the battle without a winner. A ghostly clock materialized and hung itself above the dueling Pokemon, counting down the number of attacks until the Perish Song would take effect. That’s all I needed – a time limit. I was already under a lot of stress, and this only made it all the more nerve-wracking. But I wouldn’t let my anxiety take control of the situation.

“Scout, Thunder Punch!” I commanded.

The Sentret leapt to its feet and launched itself towards Misdreavus, it’s fist crackling with hot electricity. It forced the fist into the foe’s body, lighting up with a white electric blast. While Scout’s fist passed through Misdreavus’ gas-like body, the current flowed through the light particles, causing the enemy to cry in pain. The attack did a significant amount of damage, but I wasn’t sure if it was enough to keep the Pokemon under my control.

Like I had expected, the Thunder Punch only made Misdreavus all the more furious. With a loud cry, it unleashed another powerful Psywave, inflicting just about as much damage as the previous attack.

There were only two more turns left on the clock – I had to make them effective. I decided on a strategy that would most likely work, but it would definitely be a risk. Then again, it was time to take some risks, wasn’t it?

“Scout, use Charge Beam!”

The Pokemon curled itself up into a ball, and little sparks began to rise from its body. Misdreavus used Scout’s vulnerability as an opportunity for a full out attack. It opened its mouth wide, releasing a powerful Psybeam that sent the ball of fur flying through the air and into one of the mansion’s rigid walls. The Pokemon fell to the ground and remained there, unmoving. I crossed my fingers.

“Come on, buddy. Get up. Please,” I whispered under my breath, but Scout remained there, motionless.

“Looks like game over, Miles,” Josh taunted, grinning sadistically.

My heart sank, he was right. I turned my back to the battle scene, eyes downcast. I had tried to be so courageous, but I assumed that destiny could not be altered, after all. I’d always be the loser.

I looked up briefly to examine the expressions of my companions, preparing for the laughter and teasing that would undoubtedly follow. To my surprise, however, Clarisse had a vast smile on her face and Josh’s jaw had dropped in amazement. I spun around just in time to witness an outstanding blast of light stream from Scout’s mouth, consuming Misdreavus. When the attack faded, the enemy was left lying on the ground, helpless. My heart filled with excitement.

I glanced up at the clock, realizing that Scout’s third turn had already ended, leaving Misdreavus one last chance to attack before the battle was over. I had to act quickly. I shoved my hand into my pocket and pulled out a round, red-and-white device that fit perfectly in my palm. I studied it carefully. To me, it wasn’t a Pokeball. It was a camcorder – an opportunity to film over the dreaded memories inside that video tape from the back drawer of the closet. A chance to start again, to make memories that I would be proud of, to choose my own happy ending.

I threw the device with all my might. As it flew through the air, I could almost see it erasing all of the unwanted memories and filling itself with new ones. It sucked Misdreavus up in its beam of red light and fell to the ground, shaking slightly. All that was left was the final click – the click that sealed the new memories, replacing the old. The click that determined the rest of my life.

Clarisse walked up to me slowly and took my hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. Together, we stood there in the middle of any empty hall, awaiting the decision of the quivering device in front of us.


Pokemon: Misdreavus
Difficulty: Hard
Character Requirement: 20-30k
Number of Characters: 33,429

Ready for grading!


paired with kimmi.
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Old 02-26-2008, 12:48 PM
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Default Re: Reflection

I know I said I wouldn't, but I read this, and now it's mine to grade. So back off, other graders!

Expect a grade sometime tomorrow, it's late now and I need to sleep.
history is interesting.
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Old 02-26-2008, 03:57 PM
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Default Re: Reflection

Aww, Em.

ILY to death. =]]

Thanks a bunch.

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Old 02-27-2008, 08:14 AM
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Default Re: Reflection

Phew, that took ages. Well, here you go;

Damn you, being so good! Now I have to be picky. ;-;

Introduction/Plot: The story starts off with your main character – Miles – lying in bed/on a mattress, staring at the fuzz on the television screen. He turns to look in the mirror, and it turns out that his reflection isn’t quite as attractive as it would have been a few weeks ago. He drifts off into memories, and finds himself as a young man, going somewhere with his Furret at his heels. The Pokemon wants to hold him up to go into a coffee shop, for a reason he’s yet to find out. Once he entered, he saw his high-school love interest, Clarisse was inside. After a brief and rather awkward conversation, he finds out that she has a fiancé, and broken-hearted, leaves. Unfortunately, he faints, for some reason. Possibly because his heart was shattered.

Now, he’s a teenager, reliving his prom night. He’d managed to get Clarisse to be his date, but within the first paragraph it’s been made clear that she’s unhappy with the match up. The date started off badly, with him tripping over less than a minute after stepping out of the minivan. Then, his date managed to avoid him for the majority of the night. When he found her, he was about to make his way over there to have a little talk, when out of the blue walks Josh, the high school jock. He tells poor Miles that Clarisse only went with him because her parents made her, and that she didn’t want to spend time with him at all. He felt like he was going to be sick, so he stumbled over to the trashcan. However, he found that he didn’t need to be sick after all, and was left staring into the garbage. Among the half-eaten chicken legs and plastic cups was the tacky purple corsage that he’d given his date.

Now, he’s eight years old, and being dared by Josh and Clarisse to go into the ‘haunted’ mansion for five whole minutes. Though reluctant, he enters, and sits down on a step to wait until his time is up. Suddenly, Miles hears a scream, and is confronted by a Misdreavus. Scared, he flees, and Josh and Clarisse laugh at his fright. The vision fades, and he wakes up to find himself in (presumably) a hospital. While there, he’s visited by Jirachi, who sends him back to that last memory. Once there, he’s not afraid of the Misdreavus, and battles it.

Phew, that was long. Well, what can I say, it was a very good story! The plot was intriguing and captivating, and played out very well. When you gave me the basic gist of the plot, I thought it would be quite straightforward, but you sure proved me wrong! The way you treated each memory like a story of its own was admirable – I know a lot of authors that would make the memories bland and like a summary of an actual story, whereas you gave us the full deal. I have absolutely no problems with your plot at all.

Your introduction was excellent, too – it did what all good introductions do, and sucked me in instantly. It’s your character just talking about reflection, and the way you fit in all of those little details about everything was admirable. The only qualm I had with this part of the story was that you didn’t give us any back-story to your character save for in the memories. I think at the start it would be a good idea to tell us a little about your character right away – maybe sneak a few little details in here and there where they’ll hardly be noticed as being details at all, and as such not interrupting the flow of the story at all.

Grammar/Spelling: It’s not every day that you find someone who makes next to no grammar errors, and I both curse and congratulate you for that. However, I did catch a few little things (all typos, I believe), so I’ll point out what you did wrong and how to fix it here.

“You little fool!” He cried between hearty laughs, “That was just a Misdreavous trying to get a scare out of you!”
Misdreavous should be Misdreavus, and he has an unnecessary capital letter. I think you should know the latter already, but just in case you don’t, I’ll outline it for you.

Speech is tricky. While it looks like ‘he’ should be capitalised, it really shouldn’t. I don’t know why, so don’t ask me. But what I do know is that if it’s stating that the person said it, or how the person said it, then the he/she/it shouldn’t be capitalised, but if it’s stating what the person did after or during saying it, then it should. I’ll give you an example.

“Go away, I don’t like you!” he said, turning away from his dejected brother.’ – there shouldn’t be a capital at the start of the ‘he’.
“Go away, I don’t like you!” He turned away from his dejected brother.’ – the capital letter should be here.

Something that you can use to help remember this is that if you can flip it around (as in, put the ‘he said/he did’ in front of the speech) and it makes sense, it needs a capital. In fact, you can check most of your grammar that way, by flipping it around. If I’m not making any sense, just IM me and I’ll explain it to you better. However, if you already knew that, please disregard these paragraphs.

With the wind at my heels, I pushed through the crowed as politely as possible, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone around me.
Crowed is the wrong word to used, because crowed is the past tense of crow. The word you want is crowd.

“Come one, Clarisse,” Josh said, “Let’s leave the wimp alone before he wets himself in fright.”
You really have no idea how much I make this typo. Try to proofread your work before submitting it, as tedious as it is it must be done for the purpose of not giving nitpicky graders anything to whine about.

Aaand that’s all I could find. Good work on making so little grammatical errors, Mr. Adam.

Description/Detail: This was absolutely amazing. You described everything – from the softness (or lack thereof) of the mattress to the smell of the coffee shop! I often tell writers that writing a story is like painting a picture – you need to fill in all of the little details. Your picture wasn’t so much a picture as a whole other world! I could see what Miles saw, and I could even feel what he felt and smelt what he smelt. The only problems I have with your description was that a few things got left out – namely, Scout and Miles himself. I would have liked to know what they looked like (well, I know what a Furret looks like, but it’s a good idea to describe it anyway for those of us who don’t). Although, at the very beginning, your detail was just astounding. Most authors wouldn’t think to put that much care in their writing to point out every single detail.

Kudos to you for doing such a good job.

Length: You went over the requirement, good job! Keep doing that.

Battle/Realism: Your battle was excellent. You made it two-sided, and the type usage (ghost types can’t be hit by normal attacks) added an extra spice to it. It was also long enough, and as with the rest of the story, very well-described. You also pointed out what the attacks the Misdreavus used were called, which is an added bonus for us lazy graders who aren’t familiar with the ghost type’s moveset. The little bit at the end about the Pokeball being a camcorder was an excellent touch, too, and it made me enjoy this part of your story all that much more.

One thing that I have to advise though, is to use the surroundings a little more in the story. Yes, you used the lack of friction on the marble floor, but that had no practical use in the story. Considering there’s a staircase nearby, how about Scout could pass through the Misdreavus and slam into the stairs on one of his failed attacks? Or maybe the aforementioned ghost could throw a Shadow Ball into a banister in a attempt to send it crashing down on her (I’m assuming it’s a she) foe? Your battle was strong without it, but these little touches would have made it all the more fun and exciting to read.

Outcome: This was by far the best URPG story I’ve ever had the good fortune to grade. You left me with hardly anything to pick out, and I still managed to give you a decently long grade because of all the parts that I adored. So good job, and have fun with your new Pokemon. Misdreavus captured! Good luck with your little banshee thing, and don’t let it kill you and stuff. =)
history is interesting.

Last edited by Emily; 02-27-2008 at 10:45 AM.
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Old 02-27-2008, 10:18 AM
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Default Re: Reflection

You're the greatest, Em.

Thanks so much for the grade.

*snatches Pokeball and flees*

paired with kimmi.
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