The Wild Man Of Pokemon

I ran.

The thoughts were wild and untamed. They whizzed through my brain, rattling my own neural connections.

Noticing my distress, the three brothers asked if they could help; getting closer and closer.

My pain intensified. I could no longer keep up and panicked.

I ran. Into the forest away from the sources of my agony. Once out of my range, my mind could finally catch up. The silence a balm to my mental wounds.

'Oliver?' I jumped.

Turning around, Croagunk and the gang were there, eyeing me in concern.

'I'm okay, I never expected my first interaction with humanity would end so bad.'

'What exactly happened?' Honedge asked.

'I couldn't understand them, and then I could.' I started, seeing their confusion, 'I don't know the language they were talking.'

'But you responded like you could.' Croagunk countered.

'I could hear their thoughts.'

'Ah. We were worried this might be a problem.�� Honedge revealed.

'What do you mean?'

'For a while now, Da and Am were concerned that your powers were growing, to the point that you could be effected by human thought.'

'You guys knew this would happen and didn't tell me!' I yelled.

Annoyed, he replied, 'We didn't know a thing. You forget we have no clue how your body has changed. All we could do was guess and see if it was right. Your telepathy is one of the things we theorized you could have.'

Sighing, I replied, 'Fine, but we are having a conversation later about all the things you guys think changed.'

'Fair enough.'

'So what do we do now?' I felt like I forgot something.

'While you recover, the rest of us will go get our camp supplies. Hopefully those three left by now.'

That's what I forgot.

..............................…..

Thirty minutes later, they returned and we decided to explore the forest.

'Do you think I'll be able to get used to reading people's thoughts.'

'Most likely, it will take time though.' Shedinja said.

'How do you guys deal with it?'

'We don't really. Humans thoughts and intents are diluted when we receive them. Most Pokemon are vaguely aware of what a human is feeling, let alone thinking.' He explained.

'Then why is it such a problem for me?'

'Like Honedge said, your powers have been growing since day one. Your body contains several forms of energy, the most potent of which are psychic, dark, and shadow, an aspect of ghost. They compose the mind art trio. At the rate your going, I wouldn't be surprised if you could peer into a person very soul before your twenty.'

'So I'm a freak of nature.'

'Yep.' He sing-songed

'Great.'

Honedge chuckled, 'Don't feel so bad, we will fight Arceus himself if he comes to smite you down.'

'That makes me feel a bit better.'

'Of course it should, we wouldn't want our primary craftsman to fell glum now do we.'

A vein was of so close to bursting, 'You just want to use me as your personal tailor!'

'Of course, the impeccable I must always look my best.'

'I'm getting throw you into an acid vat for that comment.'

'Hahaha, your funny. There is no way you would do that to the...'

His comment was cutoff by the pot I pulled from my bag. Filling it with leftover Oddish acid, I chanted the ancient rite of rust and decay.

'Hold on there a second, you're not actually do that to… why is it boiling?!? Wait, wait!'

The screams of the damned was music to my ears.

..............................…..

Nothing like an afternoon of torture to relieve the stresses of the day. Honedge was floating in the back, lamenting the loss of feeling in his blade. It'll come back later.

'So what do we do now. My plans are thrown out the window.'

'We could camp in the forest. Practice till we're ready to try again.' Croagunk suggested.

'That could work.'

'The other option is to live like hermits.' Honedge piped in.

'Keep talking like that and it'll be another acid bath.'

'Fine.'

I looked up.

'How long has that been there?'

An expansive mansion was before us. The tan stone walls stood tall and foreboding. Par.a.p.ets lined the roof, over watching ornate Gothic windows. A towering wooden door normally barring entrance, was tilted off it hinges.

'My feathered mattress says its possessed by a ghost type.' I bet.

'That's a chumps bet and you know it.' Honedge retorted.

'Fair enough. Should we go in?'

'Does our answer matter?'

'No, but its the principle that counts.'

We all stepped under the dilapidated door. The foyer was laden with french accents, the walls covered in flowering wall paper, the floor bleached wood, and expensive paneling.

'At least I have a better idea what region we are in.'

'R-really? W-where?' Croagunk jittered.

'Well I can't say for sure without evidence, but I can rule out a few places.'

Going up a staircase on the right, we entered into a hallway. The walls turned goldenrod yellow, with more white paneling interspersed. White door lined the halls.

Creaking along, I peaked into the first room on the right. A grand ballroom with expensive frescoes and an intricate fireplace were inside.

'Wow.' I almost imagined my voice echoing in the empty room. The walls were faded, but I could see the craftsmanship. Running my hand across the dusty surface, I marveled at the art.

'Beautiful.'

'You have no idea.' Jolting to the new voice, whirled around.

'I won't be so easily found. Who are you and why are you here?'

'I am Oliver Drake, we are merely travelers who happened upon this place and grew curious. May I ask who you are?'

'Heheha, an old soul who grew attached to this place. You surprise me boy. You are one of the few humans to ever have the gift of communication.'

'Mighty praise, old soul.'

'Quite. You amuse me, would you be up for a game?'

'What kind?'

'Nothing complicated. I grow exhausted of the monotony I have created for myself. Entertain me and I can give you the most valuable of prizes.'

'And what is that.'

'Knowledge.'

How enticing, 'I'm listening.'

'The challenge is simple, you must find three tokens. They are scattered about the house and you must bring them back here.'

'The catch?'

'You have until midnight.'

'Sounds fair. Do I get any hints? Or should I just cram this room with everything I can find?'

'I suppose I could.' The room turned black as the voice reverbrated through my bones, 'Find which the tool of vanity, a child's unliving company, and the history of this mansion.'

I smiled, a truly challenging riddle.

'Your time starts now.'

'Split up. We'll see who can find a token first.'

'Hai.'

..............................…..

Honedge POV

Oliver and Shedinja decided to head downstairs to search for the history of the mansion. I assumed it was a book of some sort. Croagunk reluctantly trudged upstairs to find the child's unliving company.

For some reason they thought to give me the tool of vanity. It was preposterous to think I am vain enough to know what to look for. 'Oh what a pretty mirror'

Floating around the different parlors and offices, I admired the old art on the walls and ceiling. Each has a history and elegance, when coupled with the eerie degradation was alluring to a ghost type.

Metaphorically inhaling the dust and mildew, I smile at the familiarity of it. When we settle down somewhere, I should create a space like this. Build a domain to haunt visitors before subtly absorbing their life force. Yes, a beautiful life.

I've spoke to Oliver about it in the past. He was intrigued by the mysterious I's dream. Even more so, he was curious of this domain I spoke of.

A long afternoon later and I was mentally drained from the conversation. While endearing, his thirst for knowledge was insatiable. Most things a Pokemon do are instinctual and lacked conscious thought. For a ghost type like me, I don't care about the particulars. Just that I have that glorious comfort and control.

Oh well.

Extending my sense out, I searched the hidden spiritual realm for anything with lingering emotions. I doubt the ghost type haunting this place would use anything less.

Wondering into an old bedroom, I got a ping off my radar. Floating to a withering vanity set, I found a silver brush with both resentment and joy attached to it. Picking it up, I decide this must be the object I seek. For what was a better tool of vanity than a brush for hair?

..............................…..

Croagunks POV

I don't like this.

This place just set off so many of my delicate sensibilities; I just want to hide and cry. But I can't do that. I must prove myself to Oliver. Show him I am not the crybaby I used to be.

Wondering down the decrepit hallway, I checked most rooms only to find them empty and blanketed with dust.

Hopefully, once we finish that crazy voice's challenge we can leave and find a nice tree to stay in. It would be so much more comfortable. And less scary. Definitely that.

Entering the last room, I saw that it was empty as well.

'Well since there are no more places to look, I'll just go back to Oliver.'

A loud creak followed by a bang shattered those plans.

Turning back into the room, I saw a ladder leading up to another floor of the house.

'Me and my big mouth.'

Climbing up the decaying wood, I enter an expansive room that I assumed covered the whole house. Old furniture and boxes were scattered about. Also, cobwebs. Lots and lots of cobwebs.

'Totally not creepy.'

Slowly tip toeing around the piles of antiques and rotting boxes, I come across a small stuffed Bunnelby. The fabric was ratty and worn, but thinking on the riddle. This might be what I need.

Picking it up, I turn quickly to leave. Only to hear a groan. Glancing back, I see the pile of stuff was tilting towards me.

'Crap.'

Making a break for it, I barely miss the first pile collapsing, which caused the next one to fall next. Running as fast as I could, I dove out of the opening, escaping the avalanche of old furniture and bobbles.

'This better be worth it.' I grumbled to my panting self.

..............................…..

Shedinja POV

My perception of the world was bizarre.

It was like having a lazy eye that sees two different images at once. On one hand, I see the world in full color as it should be.

On the other, everything was monochrome where the only color came from objects with history. I could almost see it. The lives of people long gone.

The walls here were no different.

The corridors were phobia inducing narrow. The ancient plaster white and dull. The smells were unpleasant, carrying whiffs of mildew and musky decay.

'Shedinja, is it just me or are the walls just screaming despair?' Oliver asked.

I am still surprised by his prowess. His craftiness, his wisdom, his sorrow. He hides it well, but I can see his soul. The torment and anguish present there. Anyway, my monochromatic sight was nearly blinded by that red-purple aura coming off the walls.

It was tumultuous as it was violent.

'Despair is a good word. Insanity is better.' I answered.

'Glad to know.'

Continuing down the corridor, we finally came to our first room. Rattling the handle, the door stayed firmly shut.

'Can you unlock it?'

'No, the door is steeped in a ghost types domain. I would have to be much stronger then the ghost type to bypass its domain.'

'I see.'

Lately, I have been thinking about the future and my dreams. Do I want to battle? To create? I drew potent joy from making clothes and armor with my peculiar master. He balanced both and enjoyed it. Will I want to do something like that in life? Who knows.

A ways later and we find ourselves in front of a series of doors. Each were rusted metal with sliding covers big enough to peer into the room.

'I think I know what kinda of place we are in.' Oliver said.

I hope so, because the aura of insanity was as thick as fog. Suffocating.

'I really don't like this place.'

'Me neither.' I agreed.

Loud screeching spooked us. Goosebumps trailed our skin as we stood ramrod straight. The ancient doors opened.

Holding our breaths, we peered into one of the vacant rooms.

Inside was an old cot, a toilet and a sink. The walls were beige and decrepit. Books were stacked carefully by the cot, almost lovingly.

Glancing into the other rooms had varied results. Cots turned over, porcelain smashed, occasionally the walls covered in the gibberish only legible to the mentally unstable. The second last room was the creepiest as the walls were covered in shredded cloth and padding.

'What is this place?' I asked.

'A mental hospital. Some people are born where their brains are wired differently. Lack of empathy, uncontrollable urges, the d.e.s.i.r.e for self harm. Some leave here a better, functioning member of society, others will haunt the halls till death do them part.'

'Why?'

'On occasion, people will hurt others because they didn't know better and the government will have to treat these people. Some will never get over it and are permanent residents.'

'Like Toxicroak?'

'No. The difference between the people who come here and Toxicroak is the mental capacity to determine right from wrong. Toxicroak knew what he was doing and that people will see it as wrong. The people who come here could not control themselves.'

'That's sad.'

'It is, but that is life for ya. No matter how shiny something is, there will be corners of darkness.'

There it was again, that wisdom that a child should never know. Oliver told me his past before, but it still sneaked up on me.

'Do you miss it?' I pried.

'Miss what?'

'Your old world.'

'Not really. There is no one there left for me and I am not petty enough to miss certain amenities.'

'I see.'

Going into the last room, we found that it was an office. Papers with unreadable characters were scattered on the floor. A peeling desk with the drawers torn out rested in the middle of the room. Seeing a flare of color from a book there, I pointed it out.

Picking up the book, we turn to leave only to find the door closed.

'You are an interesting creature. Its been a while since I have been this intrigued.'

Jerking to the voice, we see a black doll with golden zippers in a chair behind the desk.

'I'm sure there is a wonderful story behind it.'