^Thanks for the story. I liked it story .

JEMC said: ^Thanks for the story. I liked it story .

thank you for the feedback :)

Porcupine_I said: JEMC said: ^Thanks for the story. I liked it story . thank you for the feedback :)

You're welcome!

I'm still struggling with mine. I'm affraid I went too far for my capabilities .

JEMC said: Porcupine_I said: JEMC said: ^Thanks for the story. I liked it story . thank you for the feedback :) You're welcome! I'm still struggling with mine. I'm affraid I went too far for my capabilities .

i cheated, i hadwritten this one a while ago, i'm struggling with writing lately too

Porcupine_I said: JEMC said: Porcupine_I said: JEMC said: ^Thanks for the story. I liked it story . thank you for the feedback :) You're welcome! I'm still struggling with mine. I'm affraid I went too far for my capabilities . i cheated, i hadwritten this one a while ago, i'm struggling with writing lately too

Oh, you...

I may post the first part of mine later. The way I thought it was like the pilot of a TV show, so I can post it in parts if I want to.

OK, time to post part of my ... I don't know how to call it. But first, the disclaimers

1-English is not my first language. It's not even my second language. Because of that I ask you to be polite and, if you see something wrong (verbs, words, expressions, etc) just tell me so I can fix it.

2-There are strong words. If I think the story needs a "fuck", I'll write "fuck", not "f*ck" or whatever other substitute.

3-I've written the story more like a Pilot for a new TV show. I don't know what does it mean to you but that's how I've done it.

4-It's my first time so

. There you have it:

"Let's hope our luck changes today" thought Chris looking through the window of the cafe where he was having breakfast, in an old service station in the middle of nowhere.

He streached his hand to reach for his cigarretes when a shadow appeared by his side.

-More coffee? - said the waitress, as old as the place if not even more, while subtly making him notice the non-smoking sing behind her.

-No, thank you - replied him using the best of his salesman's smiles.

A few minutes later he was smoking, resting on the side of his car looking on his phone the visits he had that day. "Well, at least I have a chance with those aaand yeah, I may be lucky with those too. Who else is here... wait. You gotta be kidding me. Them again? Oh c'mon, they never buy anything! That's 2 hours on the road for nothing! Great, today it's gonna be a shitty day." he moaned.

He kept smoking with apathy for a little longer, toying with the phone, knowing that today wouldn't be his lucky day. With his 29th birthday gone, and the feared 30 appearing on the horizon (albeit that milestone was still months away) his life wasn't like he had hoped would be, and by the looks of it, that wasn't going to change anytime soon. With that in mind, he entered the car and took off to the road.

He was halfway to the first of his stops, listening to the radio when a van running way over the speed limit overtook him.

-What the hell! - shouted while manouvering to avoid the crash - Son of a bitch! The fuck is wrong with you?! This is a road, not a fucking track, God damn it.

But the van quickly disappeared until he found it a few corners later, burning after it had crashed with a tanker.

Foot on the brakes as hard as he could to avoid crashing with them, Chris couldn't avoid the tires to block and the car from spin with whatever the leaking tanker had, ending him and his car in the ditch.

Still shaking and holding the steering wheel really tight, Chris was still baffled without believing what just had happened. It was only then that he noticed the several men dressed with those white suits for disasters and medical masks.

-Chris, are you ok? Can you hear me? - said one of those men while aproaching him.

-Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. - replied Chris while unfastening his seat belt - Wait, how do you know my name?

As he turned to that man, now on his window, he saw a syringe in one of his hands. Reacting by instinct, Chris grabbed his hand and the both men started a short but violent fight durincg which the unknown man lost his mask, revealing his oriental traits. Luckily for Chris, during the fight the syringe ended up being stabbed into the seat's headrest which made that his attacker lowered his guard for a moment, something that Chris took advantage of knocking him down with a good elbow hit.

Without time to lose, as the rest of the men were coming to him, Chris jumped to the other side of the car, got out by passenger's side and started to run through the arid wasteland they were until

"Bang!"

Chris stopped inmediatly and looked back where he saw one of his pursuers pointing to the sky with a gun after a warning shoot. Suddently, another man (this being a blonde, caucasian one dressing a costume suit) appeared running towards the shooter.

-Don't shoot, you idiots! - shouted with a very strong accent - We want him alive!

And once he reached the gunner he killed him in the blink of an eye by almost ripping his head off with his bare hands.

Horrified, Chris tried to run again only to find a man in a dark and long coat that came from nowhere in front of him. Without time to react, he was grabbed by his neck before watching how that man smashed a small bottle to the ground and teared a piece of paper.

A sudden tingling started to crawl from his legs that paired with a strong pressure on his chest, made him lose strenght and fall to the ground, where he realized that the brown wasteland they where had changed into a green forest.

(pause for commercials)

Lots of mystery in your story. maybe even too much, because you don't give the slightest hint on what this could be about, but i'm curious how it continues.

Porcupine_I said: Lots of mystery in your story. maybe even too much, because you don't give the slightest hint on what this could be about, but i'm curious how it continues.

Don't expect many answers, though. That's why it's the "pilot of a TV show", after all .

But I won't leave it completely unanswered either. I hope.

The following is fanfiction of this. Beware, weirdness is ahead.

In retrospect, I should have enjoyed the night before my tenth birthday a bit more.

What can I say? Pretty much every nine year old in Kanto either A) is eagerly waiting until they turn 10, B) is miserably looking up at the day they have to remain home, or C) already has a Pokemon or two. So I guess I no different. Not only was I part of group A, but I dreaded being part of B. Especially since my best friend had the same birthday as me, and we were going to set out at once.

So, the night before my tenth birthday, Mom and I had my favorite dinner, we watched TV together for a bit, and I briefly made sure the blinds on the East side of the house were closed before we hugged. At the age of nine years, eleven months, and a few weeks, boys still love to hug their moms, but we HATED being called out on it.

Going to bed that night, eagerly looking forward to the future, was probably the last truly happy moment of my life.

That night, I had the worst dream. It was a dream of thousands of voices, some in harmony, but mostly a cacophony of commands.

Maybe I never woke up.

I don't remember much of what happened for a while. From what I can gather, I went to Professor Oak's at the correct time and picked a Charmander. I gave it a nickname, set out for the north, returned home for a bit, got a Pokedex, so on and so forth. I probably made some pretty good progress.

What I do remember are the voices. There were a lot less of them back then, but even then, they were overtaking me. I suppose everyone has what they consider a voice or two in their head, be it their conscience or whatever, but when you say that out loud, people look at you funny.

I guess I was truly insane for a while. Well, I probably am insane still. If I weren't, I wouldn't have to hear all of them. However, I'm much more... aware of what's been happening since Cerulean City.

Sometime in that Pokemon Center, I learned how to... think. Oh sure, the endless voices still screamed out, and indeed got worse than ever. But I think I had gone through my storm of insanity and found an island of, if not sanity, at least awareness.

For what might have been the first time in a week or two, I had a coherent thought.

You see, I was looking over my team. There was my Rattata, my Pidgeotto, and, of course, my starting Pokemon, a fiery Charmeleon. That's when I realized something

I had registered her as ABBBBBBK (.

As first thoughts in days on end go, "Der Fuck?" is not a bad choice.

From there on out, I was still insane, but I could actually notice the effect this was having. Not just on me, but everyone around me.

When I lurched out of the Pokemon Center, I could see the fear and worry in peoples' eyes. I guess they were wondering if I was drunk or mentally ill. They were probably right about the second bit.

When I saw Blue again, north of the city, he was being his usual arrogant self, but I think he held back. Call me naive, but I think he knew something was wrong, and didn't want me to be hurt.

When I challenged Misty, I kept on slipping and falling into the water of the nearby pools. I probably owe her my life for saving me that one time in the northern end, right before we battled. Somehow, my team was able to form a decent strategy despite my incoherent muttering, and we pulled through.

Many trainers call their teams a family, and think of themselves as a parental figure of sorts. If that's the case, I'm the drug-addict of a mother whose kids have to waste their lives making sure she doesn't kill herself or anyone else.

My team grew over time. There was Dux the Farfecth'd, another Rattata, and a Drowzee.

In all honesty, I have no idea why I name some of these guys but not the rest. 

We conquered Vermillion City you know. We got on and off the S.S. Anne in no time at all, and although it took us hours to find the gym, we actually beat the puzzle in record time.

By this point, I was coming to rely on a few of my friends in particular. There was my Charmeleon, whose given name I couldn't pronounce, so I called her Abby in my saner moments. She was the brains behind the team, able to get some meaning from what I said and deliver it to the rest of them. There was the as of yet unnamed Pidgeotto, who was the brawn of my team. And finally, there was JLVWNNOOOOO... no! His name was Jay! And he wasn't the best fighter, or even the best at listening. But he was sort of our collective soul. He was always willing to take a beating to prevent someone else from getting hurt. Even if I did deserve it.

To be continuously edited...

So what is this thread exactly?