Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ Tales of a Bored Raichu ❯ The Waiting Game ( Chapter 5 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Tales of a Bored Raichu, who is much too ill to be able to kill time to any sort of capacity

6:11pm, Friday 16th November 2001

Being ill can do some very weird things to one's mind. So can reading while ill. So here, from somewhere in the uncharted depths, is a rather weird piece of writing, even if I do say so myself.

The poem isn't really a poem.. it's just something that is being said as well. Maybe. I'm not really sure any more.

#5 - The Waiting Game
- written by a raichu, so far out of his league

A heartbeat sounds empty across a vast amount of space.
I know not if it is mine, and I don't really care.
I play the waiting game.

Lupp-dub. Lupp-dub.
My choice of sounding words is not too good.
Can you hear it?
Close your ears for a second, there is something in the way

--

A day mattered not so to the woman without a name. She did have a name, but it was unimportant, since no one actually used it, anyway. Though, for the record,
(it is not you)
the name is Carly. Her world for the last however long had consisted of the park bench upon which she was sat, either watching the sun, the weather, seeking shelter from the elements, or listening to strains of classical music from the eccentric old man that would sit at a bench further down. This was the short version of Hard Luck.

--

The question posed is simple;
Who are you, and why do you not return?
I'm sure you must be feeling the strain
because you're playing the waiting game, as well

--

The days sucked. Sucked worse then a bad thing. Worse then a Really Bad Thing, of the sort only a higher deity could inflict. Maybe that was her fate, indeed. Disillusioned by everything, she had set off into the woods surrounding the park. Searching for a new existence. Searching for something lost.
Searching for herself?

--

This diseased mind can't hope to win
for I know that when it comes down to it that
maybe this seemed like a good idea at the time
but now we're all just being dragged along

"Who's there?" called you
and no reply met that call
for I was still playing the waiting game
a cursed existence leaves no sound behind.

--

She was wanted by someone. Or something. The reason the days were so bad is because she could never find serenity any more; everything was wrong in the bad sense, and she just wanted to find the past again.
And that voice in her head was none the wiser about what she could do; she knew of it, but not who it was.
Though, she felt like there was something she should remember.

--

Time flies for some people, higher then the birds
And yet some say they have had their fill
It takes a very strong will and a stronger aim
if one is to beat the waiting game.

--


Carly had taken in a little bit too much alcohol the night before. She had woken on a park bench, and her mind was flowing in circles, faster then a whirlpool; she didn't know what was going on anymore. It was like she knew this place, even though a look at a sign told her this place was many thousands of miles away from her home. It defied comprehension how she could have got here in the space of one night, especially while under the influence. So, she got herself into a certain mood. If she'd walked it here once, she could walk it back. Taking some rudimentary bearings by the sun - which were false ones, mind; the ability of someone to navigate their way to their house from around the corner is muchly in doubt, so trying to navigate oneself home across a continent in the same fashion was to prove out of her reach. Still, she thought she could do it. So she walked on, in the same direction. And when she met the woodland on the outside of the park, she sussed out she could cut back through it.
It was tough going, especially when you couldn't stand upright for any longer then thirty seconds. It took her quite a number of minutes before she was inside the woodland, and by then she couldn't see the sun any more; just green light veiled brightly through overhanging canopies of trees, setting the area up very much like a lantern. It was quite serene here. And she maintained to herself that she knew where she was going.

Something else was going through the woods at this time. It was an Abra; a small brown pokemon, without the obvious sight that most pokemon have. To note what it was doing, it seemed to be tracking something. It found it's target, in the form of Carly, wandering through the clearing by her own merit.


--


She had been led, she had thought, but for things as simple as walking home
(why walk? Just wait some more)
it had to be wondered whether she knew where she was trying to get to at all. For
(I can't see you)
she couldn't see anything, indeed, apart from green and more green. And a dab of brown, offcast like something just threw it in there, randomly.

Who was the voice? Her? Maybe it was what she was looking for. Maybe it was actually looking for her.

And suddenly, she really couldn't see anything any more, because everything had clouded over, with a blue white light. Perhaps now she wasn't asleep, she could appreciate why she woke up so far from home.


--

"Well, my dear.. It appears you've finally been located.. after, well.. Three years longer then anyone would have hoped. But you see, you have something belonging to another client of mine. Who'd like it back."
The old man looked at the resting form of Carly, who was lying on a chair in what seemed to be a log cabin. Swifter then the attack itself, he removed the face of the female like it wasn't even attached properly. Of course, closer merit showed he had a very nicely crafted piece of some material, done up in the shape of a female human's face.
Sitting back on the chair now was a bemused Persian, who just looked at the man opposite. And knew nothing of the events that had taken place beforehand -- apart from that she had been late to return.
~( So I overestimated my own thinking.. I'm duly sorry, sir. )~
"Yes, I understand. Rather unfair of you to keep Carly here for much longer then she had agreed, isn't it? But, I don't suppose I can blame you." The bit of material disappeared, and the man thought to himself.
~( So.. I can return home now? )~ said the Persian, who got off the chair. Human furniture made her uncomfortable.
"Ah.. Well, you see.. I have to make up that extra time. You know how I get to do that, though, don't you."
The Persian sighed.. but shrugged, anyway. ~( I suppose.. )~

"Good." said the man. Who by that time had hold of a rather ornate jar, one of several on a cupboard made especially for that sort of thing. He removed the lid, and placed it on the floor, before heading over to a quaint little black stove, where he put an old jug on the boil. He wanted a nice drink after all this; it wasn't often he had to put on his Abra garb and go after someone. And it drained him a little. But tea was the eternal cure, it would soon fix him right up...
He let that boil, as he turned back to the Persian in his wake. The jar was filled with some sort of strange presence.. which he lidded up, and placed on the cupboard.
"Oh, don't worry about it. Three years passes quickly."
And in one turn, he scooped up that which was left on the floor. A rather neatly sized garment, resmbling the hide of a Persian. And walking to a blank side of the room, he placed the garment very carefully on a hook, next to countless more equally sized ones, on a whole lot of similar hangings.
"You probably won't be bored, either. I know cat pokemon are in high demand every so often. But, still. It's just a matter of waiting it out." he said into thin air. Before proceeding back to where some steam was coming off a carefully heated pot. Today had been successful, and now he would alleviate his thirst.

--

Convinced may you be that the waiting is done
It marks off a new one, just begun
The trick is to keep your essence sane
while made to endure the waiting game.


----

Fin.