Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ Tales of a Bored Raichu ❯ The Child and the Charm ( Chapter 9 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Tatikyas 
When a young boy finds what appears to be a way out of a bad domestic situation, the question must be posed; who exactly is getting the better deal...?
Anime/Manga: Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / / Fantasy / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.28.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.3K | Visits: 208 | Status: Completed
When a young boy finds what appears to be a way out of a bad domestic situation, the question must be posed; who exactly is getting the better deal...?
Anime/Manga: Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / / Fantasy / Drama | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.28.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.3K | Visits: 208 | Status: Completed
Tales of a Bored Raichu - the latest in quite a while, in fact
Sunday, 10th March 2002, 15:44pm -- (Mother's Day, quite coincidentally )
To be honest, this latest one had been written quite a while ago.. but I just, eheh, didn't type it up. Still, I am doing now - not that there's much to say on the subject, but at least I try. o.O
Any name coincidence relating to a certain New-Zealander is just that, coincidence. Seriously, I only realised the name I'd chosen well after I'd finished writing it. And I'm much too bad with names to try and change it. o.o
(I consider it a strange irony that such a story should be written by myself and posted on a day like today (or yesterday, considering it's 12:08am when I finish writing this. Oh well, so much for being spot on..)
based loosely on a story, by Toby [seriously, it really IS a coincidence x_x;;]
#9 - The Child and the Charm
It was precisely 7:36am. Toby hated this time of day, as most fairly joung children did. But Toby, no, he'd tell you; eleven isn't very young at all. But it was; indeed, between eleven and fourteen, people think they know everything, it's when at fifteen to eighteen, and they actually do, when the troubles start happening. But Toby wasn't sure he'd reach that stage, and his mother didn't really seem to want him to.
No, let it not be said that she was cruel as such, or anything.. except maybe the word isn't really strong enough. Most days she'd just awaken him in that 'special' way he'd come to loathe, or maybe she was feeling oddly, and chronically, sadistic.
"Time to get up," muttered she, from behind the closed door. He was indeed awake, but not up as such. The door opened to reveal the mother figure, a quite nicely built black haired girl, not likely to even be thirty yet, and most definitely not looking anywhere close. She was holding a belt, clasped at one side, and one look at her told the story of someone whose plot was lost before it had ever begun. Without demuir, she strolled to the bed, a narrow island in the centre of wood panelling up and down, with nothing of interest in the room. And just hit the child several times with the belt.
No sound, surprisingly. He just turned, looked up, and slid out of bed, the beginnings of tears creeping up in the eyes. The mother chrugged, and left the room. Delayed pain swamped the boy, and he keeled over. Unconsciousness was perhaps a blessing.
So, when all was said and done, and done some more, he had little to look forward to. He'd been thrown out of school for dealing with things the only way he knew how.. Still, after the assaulted came out of intensive care, he could remember his own name, and doctors were fairly hopeful he would learn who his parents were before he turned sixteen.
After that incident, no one really came close to the family any more. Perhaps it was the best way.
He was out in the garden, and she wasn't in. He was digging about near a rather ill-grown tree in their small little back garden, in which even grass had it hard. He was looking for nothing, a wholly useful pursuit for his time, and he actually failed in doing this when his stone struck something under the dirt, *chink*, wihch he managed to hear, Hands replaced tools, and he scrabbled at the dirt, finally excavating a small, almost oval item. It had ridges along it, all parallel. It was a weird little thing, and he didn't know what it was, nor had he ever seen something like it before. What it was, he noted, was shiny, and so he decided to keep it with him. Things like this sometimes always end up being made useful. As long as he could keep it away from the prying eyes of the powers that be.
He would find out later that day what it did.
It had been rather dismal all day, and the weather hadn't been particularly good either. Mom-figure was very annoyed for no real reason. Actually, it technically was a real reason - a really bad reason - but still, she mused, anything for a laugh. The way she slammed the door spoke volumes. This was her, simply the boss of the place, and very eager to let everyone know this. Or maybe just the kid. Ah, yes, the fruit of her labours, and consecutively more labours when he, the man who neither of them would name, had upped and gone. And she'd been left with Toby, a name of his choosing, no doubt. She didn't take to her 'duties' very well, and it broke her rather quickly. Apparantly, if she hit him hard enough, she hoped he'd go away. Never was this the case, though. Such a shame. Maybe she needed to do something extra-special this time, something articulate, even grandiose , or maybe a lot of other posh-sounding words she didn't know the meaning of, like immaculate or hypocrisy. Possibly even murderous . She walked through the room like she was on ice.
Toby was back in his room when he heard the door slam. (Uh oh), thought he, (Wonder what innovative idea she has today...) He knew words like articulate and grandiose, very unlike the mother-figure. He even knew murderous and it wasn't something very pleasing to think about.. at least, for him, it wasn't..
As much as vocabulary can say, he could think only simply, and simply the facts were; Mom is pissed, and following that I'm going to get it in the neck today. Just like always...
"I'm pissed off. Why? Doesn't matter why, you nosy son-of-a-bitch.."
She'd say that a lot. I's one of the few things that provoked Toby to smile, even if only a little. For he was, after all, the son of his mother.. was he not?
"Is that funny, or something?" she asked him.
"Yes, it is." he replied, without thinking. Before then thinking, doing a double take, and then just halting. (What the..) No, he wasn't this abrasive normally; you'd think the dozens of peppered scars on his person would tell that much.. Still, he kept his composure, passing the object he had located between his fingers. Before dropping it, rather suddenly. It hit the floor, and rolled around to his front, setting after a brief moment of circles. He crouched to get at it, but was met with a rather edgy kick to his midsection, which caused him to fall to the floor, to his knees, head forwards as he held an arm over his lower chest. Wasn't so painful, was that..
"Why, you.." She hadn't brought down her leg yet, but did so then, on the back of his head. She then whipped his head down with it, sending it into the floor, the boards developing a number of cracks in unison, *crunch*. To add insult to injury, she'd managed to bring him down spot on the object he'd dropped, and the growing red puddle gave an indication of a laceration.
"Woops.." said his mom, before leaving the room.
Toby did awaken, lying in the middle of the floor where he had been left. For some obvious reason, he had a headache. Then again, the fact he'd just been run over by a truck seemed to be the cause of that. The room was way too dark, no light whatsoever. Maybe he'd had his vision damaged in the conflict. Oh, wouldn't that be just so perfect..
He heard a bell sound somewhere. He knew it fairly well, actually. It was the sound of the bell over the door on the shop across the road, and a way along the next block. He having heard it through two doors, a window, and a good hundred feet of outside distance. (Weird..) he thought, insightfully. (Let's not think that again..)--
She should probably see how he was doing. (Not gonna scrape him off the floor just now.) thought she. (I'll toss him in bed and call it cot death, or something..) Which, said and done, would not be the best idea she had ever come up with.. Or, then again..
She opened the door. The light from the corridor illuminated the room. She didn't see anything in there worth noting.. apart from the weird little meowth, sat on the floor, who turned to look at her as she looked at it.
"Did the wall behind me open up or something.." asked Toby to the air, as he turned to watch the door, indeed, open, a door that was a good number of feet over his head. Or, he would have asked.. if it didn't sound like yowling. In the light, he saw part of himself for the first time; what should have been hands were now paws. Moving forwards a little, he tried to "stand", and failed. And then realised he was standing. Nothing wrong here...
She'd liked meowths for a long long time. Still, she didn't say much as she saw the one in her son's room just pad about like it owned the place. Which, in all right, it did..
"Since I can always hear this door open, and I didn't, this means that Toby is still in here somewhere. Yet.." and she feigned looking around, "..he is not.. All that is in here is the scratchcat and myself." Articulating like, somehow, the words she were saying had a meaning different to the one she was implying, like she didn't want to be resigned to the obvious explanation. To Toby, it seemed like defiant disbelief, and he sighed.
"However, since this meowth is, very definitely, female.. I guess he must have sneaked out.. and left it as.. a gift, or something.." said she, stumbling onto some answer. " To which Toby coughed, producing a fairly sizeable hairball. Yeah, perhaps he.. she? .. was female. Maybe the slightly pinkish fur colour gave it away. And the bow, which she hadn't noticed before..
"So, that's it then. He's gone, I'm happy. And you.. you need some food."
The kitty perked up an ear. And thought for a while.. Maybe she'd finally become free of her? Definitely a cut above being beaten about, anyway... (Still, I'm not myself any more.. which is the downside to this..) she mused. But, she was fairly pleased. And started purring, just to be vocal about it.
Toby was then carted downstairs, to the kitchen. Her mother, if she could term the human as such any more, opened a tin of her own food, and put it in a bowl, which found itself on the floor, staring up at Toby staring down at it. And, she ate, while the woman went into the room next door. (Not bad, even though it's cold..), thought she.. her taste was all messed up, though, so she didn't know what to make of it really.
Quickly she was ushered out onto a makeshift bed, made from a pile of clothes, sheets, and other fabric items. She padded about, rather characteristically, for a short while, before finally settling down, making the odd cat sound, before she remembered she did feel a little woozy still, and drifting off to the first peaceful sleep she had taken for a while...
-
Thoughts aside, Toby jumped as the telephone rang, waking her. She didn't hear the conversation; still a little tired, and wasn't really paying attention anyway. Her sense of balance told her she'd been picked up, and nextly she was on the kitchen floor. Before smelling something, of foodlike odour. Opening an eye, she saw that is what it was. Some actual pokémon food this time, and it wasn't half bad, either. It had gone rather quickly, in fact, and needing something to do, she padded her way back into the other room, finding the spot to brush against her mother's legs. To which she was duly picked up, and stroked.
"Quite the one, aren't you.. but, alas, I don't have the time to give you the full attention you might want.. Lucky for you it's still the weekend today.."
The doorbell rang, and she put the meowth to the floor, and went off to answer it. Outside was a man, rather stocky, and Toby noted nothing, not even the kitty carrier he was holding.
"Come for t'delivery." he said.
"Sure. Slip in for a second." was the reply.
The second went quietly for Toby, who had fallen asleep again before she knew it - not even stopping to pad the floor before lying down. Without a word, he picked up Toby, and placed him rather gently in the carrier, closed it, nodded to the woman, before leaving. The carrier found the passenger seat of his van, and the driver's seat found him.
The motif on the side of the van, quite simply, advertised the place the man worked - a place dealing in the manufacture if musical instruments.
Toby slept soundly through the trip.
--
epilogue:
Tina sat in the chair in her front room, after she'd cleaned the clothing and things away. Relaxation was all she had to do for today, and boy did she relish the thought. That charm had indeed been hers, once upon a time, but as the adult she was, it wasn't any use to her. But then again.. it had proved itself many a use before, and had served its last one just perfectly.
She spent a while wondering what she could possibly do with her spare time, her masses and masses of spare time...
Perhaps she could learn to play the violin.
--
Fin.
Sunday, 10th March 2002, 15:44pm -- (Mother's Day, quite coincidentally )
To be honest, this latest one had been written quite a while ago.. but I just, eheh, didn't type it up. Still, I am doing now - not that there's much to say on the subject, but at least I try. o.O
Any name coincidence relating to a certain New-Zealander is just that, coincidence. Seriously, I only realised the name I'd chosen well after I'd finished writing it. And I'm much too bad with names to try and change it. o.o
(I consider it a strange irony that such a story should be written by myself and posted on a day like today (or yesterday, considering it's 12:08am when I finish writing this. Oh well, so much for being spot on..)
based loosely on a story, by Toby [seriously, it really IS a coincidence x_x;;]
#9 - The Child and the Charm
It was precisely 7:36am. Toby hated this time of day, as most fairly joung children did. But Toby, no, he'd tell you; eleven isn't very young at all. But it was; indeed, between eleven and fourteen, people think they know everything, it's when at fifteen to eighteen, and they actually do, when the troubles start happening. But Toby wasn't sure he'd reach that stage, and his mother didn't really seem to want him to.
No, let it not be said that she was cruel as such, or anything.. except maybe the word isn't really strong enough. Most days she'd just awaken him in that 'special' way he'd come to loathe, or maybe she was feeling oddly, and chronically, sadistic.
"Time to get up," muttered she, from behind the closed door. He was indeed awake, but not up as such. The door opened to reveal the mother figure, a quite nicely built black haired girl, not likely to even be thirty yet, and most definitely not looking anywhere close. She was holding a belt, clasped at one side, and one look at her told the story of someone whose plot was lost before it had ever begun. Without demuir, she strolled to the bed, a narrow island in the centre of wood panelling up and down, with nothing of interest in the room. And just hit the child several times with the belt.
No sound, surprisingly. He just turned, looked up, and slid out of bed, the beginnings of tears creeping up in the eyes. The mother chrugged, and left the room. Delayed pain swamped the boy, and he keeled over. Unconsciousness was perhaps a blessing.
So, when all was said and done, and done some more, he had little to look forward to. He'd been thrown out of school for dealing with things the only way he knew how.. Still, after the assaulted came out of intensive care, he could remember his own name, and doctors were fairly hopeful he would learn who his parents were before he turned sixteen.
After that incident, no one really came close to the family any more. Perhaps it was the best way.
He was out in the garden, and she wasn't in. He was digging about near a rather ill-grown tree in their small little back garden, in which even grass had it hard. He was looking for nothing, a wholly useful pursuit for his time, and he actually failed in doing this when his stone struck something under the dirt, *chink*, wihch he managed to hear, Hands replaced tools, and he scrabbled at the dirt, finally excavating a small, almost oval item. It had ridges along it, all parallel. It was a weird little thing, and he didn't know what it was, nor had he ever seen something like it before. What it was, he noted, was shiny, and so he decided to keep it with him. Things like this sometimes always end up being made useful. As long as he could keep it away from the prying eyes of the powers that be.
He would find out later that day what it did.
It had been rather dismal all day, and the weather hadn't been particularly good either. Mom-figure was very annoyed for no real reason. Actually, it technically was a real reason - a really bad reason - but still, she mused, anything for a laugh. The way she slammed the door spoke volumes. This was her, simply the boss of the place, and very eager to let everyone know this. Or maybe just the kid. Ah, yes, the fruit of her labours, and consecutively more labours when he, the man who neither of them would name, had upped and gone. And she'd been left with Toby, a name of his choosing, no doubt. She didn't take to her 'duties' very well, and it broke her rather quickly. Apparantly, if she hit him hard enough, she hoped he'd go away. Never was this the case, though. Such a shame. Maybe she needed to do something extra-special this time, something articulate, even grandiose , or maybe a lot of other posh-sounding words she didn't know the meaning of, like immaculate or hypocrisy. Possibly even murderous . She walked through the room like she was on ice.
Toby was back in his room when he heard the door slam. (Uh oh), thought he, (Wonder what innovative idea she has today...) He knew words like articulate and grandiose, very unlike the mother-figure. He even knew murderous and it wasn't something very pleasing to think about.. at least, for him, it wasn't..
As much as vocabulary can say, he could think only simply, and simply the facts were; Mom is pissed, and following that I'm going to get it in the neck today. Just like always...
"I'm pissed off. Why? Doesn't matter why, you nosy son-of-a-bitch.."
She'd say that a lot. I's one of the few things that provoked Toby to smile, even if only a little. For he was, after all, the son of his mother.. was he not?
"Is that funny, or something?" she asked him.
"Yes, it is." he replied, without thinking. Before then thinking, doing a double take, and then just halting. (What the..) No, he wasn't this abrasive normally; you'd think the dozens of peppered scars on his person would tell that much.. Still, he kept his composure, passing the object he had located between his fingers. Before dropping it, rather suddenly. It hit the floor, and rolled around to his front, setting after a brief moment of circles. He crouched to get at it, but was met with a rather edgy kick to his midsection, which caused him to fall to the floor, to his knees, head forwards as he held an arm over his lower chest. Wasn't so painful, was that..
"Why, you.." She hadn't brought down her leg yet, but did so then, on the back of his head. She then whipped his head down with it, sending it into the floor, the boards developing a number of cracks in unison, *crunch*. To add insult to injury, she'd managed to bring him down spot on the object he'd dropped, and the growing red puddle gave an indication of a laceration.
"Woops.." said his mom, before leaving the room.
Toby did awaken, lying in the middle of the floor where he had been left. For some obvious reason, he had a headache. Then again, the fact he'd just been run over by a truck seemed to be the cause of that. The room was way too dark, no light whatsoever. Maybe he'd had his vision damaged in the conflict. Oh, wouldn't that be just so perfect..
He heard a bell sound somewhere. He knew it fairly well, actually. It was the sound of the bell over the door on the shop across the road, and a way along the next block. He having heard it through two doors, a window, and a good hundred feet of outside distance. (Weird..) he thought, insightfully. (Let's not think that again..)--
She should probably see how he was doing. (Not gonna scrape him off the floor just now.) thought she. (I'll toss him in bed and call it cot death, or something..) Which, said and done, would not be the best idea she had ever come up with.. Or, then again..
She opened the door. The light from the corridor illuminated the room. She didn't see anything in there worth noting.. apart from the weird little meowth, sat on the floor, who turned to look at her as she looked at it.
"Did the wall behind me open up or something.." asked Toby to the air, as he turned to watch the door, indeed, open, a door that was a good number of feet over his head. Or, he would have asked.. if it didn't sound like yowling. In the light, he saw part of himself for the first time; what should have been hands were now paws. Moving forwards a little, he tried to "stand", and failed. And then realised he was standing. Nothing wrong here...
She'd liked meowths for a long long time. Still, she didn't say much as she saw the one in her son's room just pad about like it owned the place. Which, in all right, it did..
"Since I can always hear this door open, and I didn't, this means that Toby is still in here somewhere. Yet.." and she feigned looking around, "..he is not.. All that is in here is the scratchcat and myself." Articulating like, somehow, the words she were saying had a meaning different to the one she was implying, like she didn't want to be resigned to the obvious explanation. To Toby, it seemed like defiant disbelief, and he sighed.
"However, since this meowth is, very definitely, female.. I guess he must have sneaked out.. and left it as.. a gift, or something.." said she, stumbling onto some answer. " To which Toby coughed, producing a fairly sizeable hairball. Yeah, perhaps he.. she? .. was female. Maybe the slightly pinkish fur colour gave it away. And the bow, which she hadn't noticed before..
"So, that's it then. He's gone, I'm happy. And you.. you need some food."
The kitty perked up an ear. And thought for a while.. Maybe she'd finally become free of her? Definitely a cut above being beaten about, anyway... (Still, I'm not myself any more.. which is the downside to this..) she mused. But, she was fairly pleased. And started purring, just to be vocal about it.
Toby was then carted downstairs, to the kitchen. Her mother, if she could term the human as such any more, opened a tin of her own food, and put it in a bowl, which found itself on the floor, staring up at Toby staring down at it. And, she ate, while the woman went into the room next door. (Not bad, even though it's cold..), thought she.. her taste was all messed up, though, so she didn't know what to make of it really.
Quickly she was ushered out onto a makeshift bed, made from a pile of clothes, sheets, and other fabric items. She padded about, rather characteristically, for a short while, before finally settling down, making the odd cat sound, before she remembered she did feel a little woozy still, and drifting off to the first peaceful sleep she had taken for a while...
-
Thoughts aside, Toby jumped as the telephone rang, waking her. She didn't hear the conversation; still a little tired, and wasn't really paying attention anyway. Her sense of balance told her she'd been picked up, and nextly she was on the kitchen floor. Before smelling something, of foodlike odour. Opening an eye, she saw that is what it was. Some actual pokémon food this time, and it wasn't half bad, either. It had gone rather quickly, in fact, and needing something to do, she padded her way back into the other room, finding the spot to brush against her mother's legs. To which she was duly picked up, and stroked.
"Quite the one, aren't you.. but, alas, I don't have the time to give you the full attention you might want.. Lucky for you it's still the weekend today.."
The doorbell rang, and she put the meowth to the floor, and went off to answer it. Outside was a man, rather stocky, and Toby noted nothing, not even the kitty carrier he was holding.
"Come for t'delivery." he said.
"Sure. Slip in for a second." was the reply.
The second went quietly for Toby, who had fallen asleep again before she knew it - not even stopping to pad the floor before lying down. Without a word, he picked up Toby, and placed him rather gently in the carrier, closed it, nodded to the woman, before leaving. The carrier found the passenger seat of his van, and the driver's seat found him.
The motif on the side of the van, quite simply, advertised the place the man worked - a place dealing in the manufacture if musical instruments.
Toby slept soundly through the trip.
--
epilogue:
Tina sat in the chair in her front room, after she'd cleaned the clothing and things away. Relaxation was all she had to do for today, and boy did she relish the thought. That charm had indeed been hers, once upon a time, but as the adult she was, it wasn't any use to her. But then again.. it had proved itself many a use before, and had served its last one just perfectly.
She spent a while wondering what she could possibly do with her spare time, her masses and masses of spare time...
Perhaps she could learn to play the violin.
--
Fin.