ProphetL
Starving Artist
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2019
- Messages
- 4
- Reaction score
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Introduction: Oh wow, yet another human-goes-to-pokemon-land fic. How original.
I made this story in my head to entertain myself, and then it got too complex to fit so...
You suffer with me now.
Rating Warning (Mild Language/Violence)
And the Angel said unto them, the Saviors of Creation, “Be well in your deeds. Be well in your hearts. Give Man’s world all with your blessings. For upon your dying breath, the last Champion will be born, and strife shall follow. The Saints of Sky, reborn from the ashes of the Brass Alter, will march armies across the land, and desecrate that which Heaven labored over millennia. The Trinity of Purification shall awaken. And when the Father returns to His stead, He will find His Creation wrought in iron and flames...”
-
I think I’m dying. At least, that’s how it feels. Everything hurts and I can’t see. It feels like I’m falling, or is everything falling around me? Is this even real? I can see a light now. A light at the end of a tunnel.
I am dying! But why? I had so much to live for.
I think.
I don’t remember.
...
I’m awake.
And alive, maybe. Everything still hurts, and I mean really hurts, but this time I can feel my own body. Whatever that was before almost seemed like a dream now. I don’t remember too much of it. In fact, I don’t remember anything about what I was doing before falling asleep, or my own life. Not a name, a date, a location, anything.
Who am I?
Who knew one question could induce so much panic? Fear begins to swell in my gut, yet I remember somehow, that amnesia is often temporary. I don’t know how I know something like that. Probably the internet. I’m choosing to believe it, because it's keeping me from freaking out for the time being.
I’m lying on a bed, I can feel the linens with my hands, the pillow I rest my head upon, and the soft weight of a blanket sitting on top of me. Parts of my body feel like they’re wrapped in cloth that I can feel stretch with any slight movement, along with soreness in my muscles. My head is throbbing, and the bones in my chest are on fire. Actually all of my bones are, but my rib cage seems to have it the worst. What the hell happened to me? I try to at least lift my arm, which only makes the burning in my chest worse. I keep trying though. I want to put my hand on my chest and feel my heartbeat, but no luck. I still can’t see, possibly because my eyes are still closed. I’m afraid to open them, thinking I’ll find myself lying before the pearly gates. Never was too religious, I think. Maybe? No, I’m certain now, not religious. So there’s something I can remember. It’s not much, but I cling to it like a child to their stuffed animal.
If I’m not religious, that won't bode well for me if I am indeed in the afterlife. There’s only one way to find out. I slowly opened my eyes.
It’s bright, and blurry, probably because I don’t have my contacts in. Wait, I wear contacts? I do! Memory number two, great. I blink a couple of times. My eyes don’t seem to want to focus, and they never will if I have to wear contacts. The light starts to hurt my head its so bright. I keep my eyes closed. The room I’m in has that sterile, hospital smell to it, so I’m in a hospital. Thank god, I am alive! I can blink, move my arms and hear, so I’m not in a coma, and I’m conscious, alive, and capable of mobility. Well, not a hundred percent sure on that last one yet. Still hurting.
I hear someone else on the other side of the room. I can’t tell what they’re doing, but I can hear a feminine voice softly humming, and what sounds like glass containers hitting each other. Probably a nurse. Maybe I should let her know I’m awake.
I planned on saying “hello” or “what’s up,” something generic like that. What came out instead was the most pathetic and pained moan, like a dying animal.
When the nurse heard my tragic call, and I wish she hadn’t, she let out a small gasp, and I heard her walk past my bed and out the door to my right, which I guess was left open. She must’ve gone to get a doctor, or my family. I’m kinda hoping my family. Maybe seeing their faces will allow me to regain some of my identity. I do have a family, right?
Finding that bit of info alarmingly harder to remember than the last few, I decided to move past it, and take another crack at opening my eyes. Brightness flooded my vision once again, but I fought against it. I wanted to see the plain, white walls, and the various machines I was hooked up to, if any. Now that I think about it, I don’t recall hearing any of those distinct beeps or hums that are typically attributed to a hospital. Maybe that’s a good thing. I struggled to keep my eyes open, a struggle that finally paid off, as the ceiling above me was in focus, and I could clearly see that there was no ceiling.
It was the sky. That intense light that hurt to look at was the damn Sun. Go figure. What kind of hospital doesn’t have a ceiling? I immediately dismissed it, choosing to believe it was a skylight, and I didn’t want to keep staring, trying to figure it out. My chest screamed in protest as I sat up, but I was beyond the point of caring. All I wanted was to sit up. Despite my aching muscles, I manage to get halfway up, leaning back on my forearms. It's enough for me to get an eyeful of my….surroundings.
First, I wasn’t in a hospital room. It was a tent. A massive tent with stone floors. The ceiling was incredibly far above me. To my left, a curtain blocked my view of the rest of the room. Across from my bed was a ridiculously oversized wooden counter, which fits the scale of the room at least. If I stood next to it I could maybe just see over the top. I noticed a smaller, person-sized wooden ladder leaning against it, which only adds to the mystery. The tent itself was a drab green. A flap in the center of the high canopy was opened to let the sunlight in, on account of that there weren’t any ceiling lights. Or lamps. Or any electrical appliances whatsoever. Just a dumpy tent. What kind of treatment am I getting here?
And why is everything so big? I can’t see the other side of the room past the curtain, but I feel so small. The bed fits, somehow, and yet I feel like I’m the size of a toddler. Am I a toddler? The mere possibility makes me shudder. I thought I was at least somewhat grown up. Dear god, I might be a midget. That thought sparks enough terror in me to keep the blanket on.
I push the ominous thoughts out of my head. Deciding the pain of sitting up to be too much, I fell back into the pillow. I squeezed my eyes closed and rubbed my temples in an attempt to alleviate the oncoming migraine. I turned onto my left side, averting my eyes from the sun. I opened my eyes to see a wooden nightstand, with an old-fashioned alarm clock resting on top. Like, really old fashioned, with the bells on top and everything.
I hope this isn’t some freaky traveled-to-another-time-or-world-with-amnesia scenario, like the kind found in bad fan-fiction. It would provide some explanations, but I have better things to do. At least, I hope so. I reached a paw to turn the clock towards me so I could at least know the…
A paw.
Not a human hand.
An animal paw.
My animal paw.
…
What the hell.
I made this story in my head to entertain myself, and then it got too complex to fit so...
You suffer with me now.
Rating Warning (Mild Language/Violence)
---
Act One
"The Saints"
Chapter One
Act One
"The Saints"
Chapter One
And the Angel said unto them, the Saviors of Creation, “Be well in your deeds. Be well in your hearts. Give Man’s world all with your blessings. For upon your dying breath, the last Champion will be born, and strife shall follow. The Saints of Sky, reborn from the ashes of the Brass Alter, will march armies across the land, and desecrate that which Heaven labored over millennia. The Trinity of Purification shall awaken. And when the Father returns to His stead, He will find His Creation wrought in iron and flames...”
-
I think I’m dying. At least, that’s how it feels. Everything hurts and I can’t see. It feels like I’m falling, or is everything falling around me? Is this even real? I can see a light now. A light at the end of a tunnel.
I am dying! But why? I had so much to live for.
I think.
I don’t remember.
...
I’m awake.
And alive, maybe. Everything still hurts, and I mean really hurts, but this time I can feel my own body. Whatever that was before almost seemed like a dream now. I don’t remember too much of it. In fact, I don’t remember anything about what I was doing before falling asleep, or my own life. Not a name, a date, a location, anything.
Who am I?
Who knew one question could induce so much panic? Fear begins to swell in my gut, yet I remember somehow, that amnesia is often temporary. I don’t know how I know something like that. Probably the internet. I’m choosing to believe it, because it's keeping me from freaking out for the time being.
I’m lying on a bed, I can feel the linens with my hands, the pillow I rest my head upon, and the soft weight of a blanket sitting on top of me. Parts of my body feel like they’re wrapped in cloth that I can feel stretch with any slight movement, along with soreness in my muscles. My head is throbbing, and the bones in my chest are on fire. Actually all of my bones are, but my rib cage seems to have it the worst. What the hell happened to me? I try to at least lift my arm, which only makes the burning in my chest worse. I keep trying though. I want to put my hand on my chest and feel my heartbeat, but no luck. I still can’t see, possibly because my eyes are still closed. I’m afraid to open them, thinking I’ll find myself lying before the pearly gates. Never was too religious, I think. Maybe? No, I’m certain now, not religious. So there’s something I can remember. It’s not much, but I cling to it like a child to their stuffed animal.
If I’m not religious, that won't bode well for me if I am indeed in the afterlife. There’s only one way to find out. I slowly opened my eyes.
It’s bright, and blurry, probably because I don’t have my contacts in. Wait, I wear contacts? I do! Memory number two, great. I blink a couple of times. My eyes don’t seem to want to focus, and they never will if I have to wear contacts. The light starts to hurt my head its so bright. I keep my eyes closed. The room I’m in has that sterile, hospital smell to it, so I’m in a hospital. Thank god, I am alive! I can blink, move my arms and hear, so I’m not in a coma, and I’m conscious, alive, and capable of mobility. Well, not a hundred percent sure on that last one yet. Still hurting.
I hear someone else on the other side of the room. I can’t tell what they’re doing, but I can hear a feminine voice softly humming, and what sounds like glass containers hitting each other. Probably a nurse. Maybe I should let her know I’m awake.
I planned on saying “hello” or “what’s up,” something generic like that. What came out instead was the most pathetic and pained moan, like a dying animal.
When the nurse heard my tragic call, and I wish she hadn’t, she let out a small gasp, and I heard her walk past my bed and out the door to my right, which I guess was left open. She must’ve gone to get a doctor, or my family. I’m kinda hoping my family. Maybe seeing their faces will allow me to regain some of my identity. I do have a family, right?
Finding that bit of info alarmingly harder to remember than the last few, I decided to move past it, and take another crack at opening my eyes. Brightness flooded my vision once again, but I fought against it. I wanted to see the plain, white walls, and the various machines I was hooked up to, if any. Now that I think about it, I don’t recall hearing any of those distinct beeps or hums that are typically attributed to a hospital. Maybe that’s a good thing. I struggled to keep my eyes open, a struggle that finally paid off, as the ceiling above me was in focus, and I could clearly see that there was no ceiling.
It was the sky. That intense light that hurt to look at was the damn Sun. Go figure. What kind of hospital doesn’t have a ceiling? I immediately dismissed it, choosing to believe it was a skylight, and I didn’t want to keep staring, trying to figure it out. My chest screamed in protest as I sat up, but I was beyond the point of caring. All I wanted was to sit up. Despite my aching muscles, I manage to get halfway up, leaning back on my forearms. It's enough for me to get an eyeful of my….surroundings.
First, I wasn’t in a hospital room. It was a tent. A massive tent with stone floors. The ceiling was incredibly far above me. To my left, a curtain blocked my view of the rest of the room. Across from my bed was a ridiculously oversized wooden counter, which fits the scale of the room at least. If I stood next to it I could maybe just see over the top. I noticed a smaller, person-sized wooden ladder leaning against it, which only adds to the mystery. The tent itself was a drab green. A flap in the center of the high canopy was opened to let the sunlight in, on account of that there weren’t any ceiling lights. Or lamps. Or any electrical appliances whatsoever. Just a dumpy tent. What kind of treatment am I getting here?
And why is everything so big? I can’t see the other side of the room past the curtain, but I feel so small. The bed fits, somehow, and yet I feel like I’m the size of a toddler. Am I a toddler? The mere possibility makes me shudder. I thought I was at least somewhat grown up. Dear god, I might be a midget. That thought sparks enough terror in me to keep the blanket on.
I push the ominous thoughts out of my head. Deciding the pain of sitting up to be too much, I fell back into the pillow. I squeezed my eyes closed and rubbed my temples in an attempt to alleviate the oncoming migraine. I turned onto my left side, averting my eyes from the sun. I opened my eyes to see a wooden nightstand, with an old-fashioned alarm clock resting on top. Like, really old fashioned, with the bells on top and everything.
I hope this isn’t some freaky traveled-to-another-time-or-world-with-amnesia scenario, like the kind found in bad fan-fiction. It would provide some explanations, but I have better things to do. At least, I hope so. I reached a paw to turn the clock towards me so I could at least know the…
A paw.
Not a human hand.
An animal paw.
My animal paw.
…
What the hell.
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