• Lifeless Flower

    A coaxing in the wind brushes by the fertile forest. Like an over bearing mother it caresses each petal that comes in contact with it, nourishing the sickly leaves that are beginning to sag in defeat. It is a cool night; like any other, posing a threat to the young saplings that cry for the comfort of heat and warmth. A flower; well aged and thriving with color dominantly rosy red amongst the cooler shades, falters. With a stem hunching forward it is a sorry sight that breaks the heart of many creatures who share the forest. Around the plentiful wood segregating darkness at every speck of bush and leaf, inhabitants are absent of appearance. Air is cooler in these parts of the woods, and flowers that grow here are especially prone to risk of rotting away without proper sunlight which comes far too late in their life or not at all. Sunny days are unlikely here; thus the moonlight quenches little before it drifts behind the clouds, never to be seen until its next rise. A young Rattata pokes its head out, curious and fond of this flower braving against all odds, and approaches with utmost caution. It droops its spiral-like tail along the damp soil, afraid that endangering the ground with any force than necessary would somehow create the wrong reaction and destroy what kept the floret healthy. It knows nothing of the basics. Like how flowers sucked up nutrients from its roots. That sunlight gathered in, like a Sunflora’s solar beam is what helps it grow and bloom into a flower. What the Rattata sees is a color unlike the others around it.

    Peeked by interest it moves in, closer and closer.

    With twitching whiskers the young Rattata heeds caution where it presses its paws, eyes trained on the leaves that crinkle loudly underneath. A snap follows. It flinches automatically, flattening its ears as the noise alerts the night life. Nothing comes out from the shadows with snapping jaws like the small rodent imagines, but instead, much to its relief, smaller life forms like itself surface. An invisible entity shifts into being, belonging to the ghost-type family, Duskull. Unmistakable with the bone cross on its back the small Pokemon hovers around the purple life form, ominous eyes trained on the flower much like the Rattata. It makes gestures, simple stubby motions of its hands as it manipulates its transparent body to make a point. Only half of the language is understood for the normal type is not familiar in the verbal words of a ghost Pokemon.

    That hardly makes the conversing difficult.

    Accurate eyes built for scavenging are rooted to the ghostly-body. Sitting down on a dry remnant of a skungy brown leaf the Rattata observes it critically catching on the longer the Pokemon spends exaggerating its motions. Apparently the residents Rattata intruded upon were raised and brought up in the forest of nocturnal night. A sanctuary for all Pokemon, but geared specifically towards creatures of the dark type who share the traits of loving the moon and stars. In a place of eternal night; little light passes through. This hardly surprises the young Pokemon, but makes it further curious how something so beautiful grew in the first place. Duskull has no answer saying this flower represented life itself in their expansive forest.

    How does life become symbolic by a mere flower? Rattata wonders this with a tilt of its head.

    When the bushes behind rustles the two Pokemon present are on guard. One with its tail up and the levitating one, positioned ready to fire a defensive attack. There is no need for alarm, for only a lone bird stumbles out, hopping clumsily on its single foot. With raking talons and rounded shape it is identified immediately as a harmless Hoothoot out on a night time stroll. It coos. Beckoned by the Pokemon huddling around this rare phenomenon, Hoothoot flaps its wings, giving rise to the air to greet its visitors. Wide eyes zip like a hyperactive child between the flower and the other two, as if debating which of the three’s unusual surprise are more worth watching. Piercing the flesh on its bottom lip Rattata lazily pats the ground with a fore-paw, as if the answer lies in the ground, buried fifteen feet under. The Hoothoot twitters negatively, and nudges the ailing flower, but the action further causes it to slump over. Pensive around the odd plant Duskull inspects it; gently probing with its psychic power to keep it upright. All too soon the limits of the pre-evolution die off and it falls back down, losing one of its petals.

    Death is a funny thing. Young in their evolution line the Pokemon are deeply disturbed by this aspect of learning. The power of a raw creation taken from that which bore it drives the Pokemon into a wall of questions. Prospects of ‘end’ are troubling to their adapting minds, so much so that they have no idea how to bring sunlight. Hoothoot suggests to bring the moon down.

    How do you bring the moon down? Duskull closes its eyes in distraught, denying the possibility.

    Perhaps we can bring the sun over the mountains? Rattata sniffs the air, knowing it is an impossible feat.

    Plant it elsewhere! Drag it out! Hoo! Hoo! The rounded Pokemon exclaims, spreading small wings out. Initiating a peck attack to rip the stem and flower both right out of the ground. The Rattata is quick to advance and defend. In a blur the Pokemon smashes its side against the flying creature. Intercepted the Hoothoot is thrown back a few feet, crashing on its backside and rolling about with angry chirps. Boldly challenging both Pokemon to the ideas of moving it Rattata digs its feet into the soil, claws extended. Mindful that it cannot hurt the ghost Pokemon, but also unwilling to surrender so easily based upon that well known fact.

    No? Duskull pushes its gray cloak like ‘hands’ together.

    No? Hoothoot rolls up, eyes immediately casting themselves down in shame.

    No. The purple head shakes sagely. Strongly disapproving the rat is circling around the petals, batting shakily to test the durability. Its keen eyes catch sight of sickness in the leaves sprouting out of the stem. Like the shadows curling at every corner, it is visible at the ends where bright green turns to a sewage grey, where thickets have grown cheery, but somehow along the way acquired a misshapen vein of dark colors not of its natural growth. Rattata scowls.

    Then much to the astonishment, a light runs over it. Waxing and faint, it catches the sensitive Hoothoot by surprise, who is startled backwards. Duskull shimmers out of sight, invisible to the unseen threat out a nervous nature; paranoid of the unknown. Its habit brings about courage in the Rattata who springs into action with its tail positioning high over its head. There isn’t a threat in sight, but the lurking unknown continues with the miracle. Neither know where it comes from, but the longer the seconds dwindle on the less their panic paves way to the reality of possible danger. Calmed by the smoothing wind that circles around them without the hint of danger on its currents, the tail lowers. Duskull re-emerges with its uncertain eyes pivoting every which way like it questioned the very sanctuary; and little Hoothoot who slowly lowers its wings from its eyes. Its motto to shield reality from that which exists cannot hurt those that hide from it; is proven false when it shudders at the bitter winds.

    Like time had turned back the petal lifts itself up as if under a hypnotic state and re-attaches.

    The trio marvel at this and gather around---happy.

    These Pokemon do not know why this single flower is so important; nor why its sole color raises their spirits higher when it unfolds. There is something meaningful in it; deep inside where the young creatures cannot hope to understand in their present forms. Red is an ill omen; much of it seen dribbling out of their bodies when they fall or scrape themselves on gravel. It oozes out like blistering juice, causing an emotion of sorrow to burst forth at their mournful cries. But here around the flower, those memories of hurt are forgotten in place of blossoming life. Hurt is known to them. Loss of family to trainers and terrain. The very color is distinguishable. It bleeds out from them and weakens them, forewarning caution. Nutrients are also a source of this color. Along bumps on berries that are tasty treats that teach to share and give---to befriend.

    Life is an important lesson.

    The sanctuary is quiet save for the rejoice of three Pokemon shrouded deep within. Beyond the veil that subtracts humans and predator Pokemon there is a guardian whose powers are revered greatly; but are never thanked upon. This mysterious Pokemon asks for no recognition, not a sliver of good graces; nor tempts a reward for blessing the land free to all who roam. Large and found lurking nowhere and everywhere at once, it is a gentle kind spirit whose knowledge is passed through lessons learned early on.

    It is the guardian of the Lifeless Forest of eternal night.



    Note: I made all this up. I did this pretty much after watching "Ghoul Daze" that features Dusknoir. Inspiration came from that.