Knotted: Chapter Two

Episode 1 

Part 1

  

  For the first time ever, I decided to leave work early. Of course I didn’t have much of a choice with the state I was in. After blacking out I woke to wobbly legs and a fuzzy head. Dan made Tris walk me home while he opened up the shop. My guess was that he wasn’t too happy with his son. Now Tris stood in front of my house shuffling his feet while I fumbled for my keys. My hands were still shaking making it difficult but, after a few long breathes and a lot of concentration, I controlled them long enough to let myself inside. Tris came in right behind me.

  My initial thought after walking into my house was to tidy up. Put away my bag, jacket, and the umbrella I didn’t need, and to obsessively fidget with things around my house. Like the painting above my couch that was just a sixteenth of an inch out of place. But, almost too exhausted to even think about doing anything, I threw my bag against the wall and let myself fall back into the couch, ignoring the painting above my head.

  I noticed Tris looking sullen and awkward just inside the open door. That’s weird. It wasn’t like Tris to be shy. The way he usually acted, this house belonged to him. It wasn’t uncommon for me to walk into my living room and be greeted by an uninvited Tris lounged on the couch, feet on the coffee table, and containers of vanished leftovers spread out around him. He’d even spent many nights avoiding his dad in my house; out like a light in my spare bedroom before the sun even set below the horizon.

  “You can come sit if you want.” I told him. They were foreign words, words that were never needed to be said to Tris, but I could hardly care less at that moment. I laid my head back down on the pillow and closed my eyes. Really all I wanted was some quiet so I could better calm myself down. My body was still shaking, and my head was spinning. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been that close to any Pokémon, let alone one that was about to attack anyone. But he didn’t. I wonder why he stopped.

  “Nah. Thanks but I think I have to get back to the bakery to get yelled at some.” Tris heaved the heaviest sigh I’d ever heard.

  “Okay. Tell your dad I said not to be too hard on you.” I called.

  “Will do.” All I heard was silence, no click of the door closing, no footsteps as he walked down the stone path. But truly, I was so tired that I couldn’t even force myself to wonder what he was doing. The soft cushions of my white couch were all I could think about.

  “Hey…Bernie Girl?” I peeked one eye open and looked over where Tris stood by the open door. He was looking down, a hand still on the doorknob, his long dark hair flopping down over his face. That hair was getting pretty interesting these days. He’d shaved the sides completely and let just the top grow out. Today he was wearing it up in a ponytail. I personally thought it was a ridiculous look—especially since it was just another way he was trying to rebel against his dad. He was always attempting to piss his dad off. The first time with his pierced ear, then the piercing in his eyebrow. The real kicker was the tattoo on his arm—the face of a rampaging Gyarados. Tris got hell when he showed up at the bakery shop after having been missing for two days with a fresh tattoo displayed on his arm. I was personally amazed at the shade of red Dan’s face turned when Tris informed him that a sixteen year old amateur inked him in an alley behind a tattoo shop in Jubilife. Dan refused to talk to him for weeks after that one.

  Granted, most of the time Dan didn’t even notice his son’s metamorphosis from the sweet looking little kid I once knew, to the slightly scary young man he was turning into—he was one tattoo shy of becoming a gang member in my book. But his dad didn’t have too many free days lately, and his brother, Danny, wasn’t likely to care enough to notice things like that. He barely even saw his brother and father and they lived just two streets away. Suddenly I felt bad for Tris. He was a good kid mostly, he just had a lack of good role models to show him the way. They were all too busy.

  “Yeah. What’s up?”  

  “Thanks…Thanks for standing up for me. I know your deal with Pokémon, but you tried to save me anyway.” I don’t think Tris could look any more awkward at that second. He rolled his eyes, “Geez, a girl had to protect me from a little Chimchar.”

  “Girls can do anything boys can do you know. I can be a knight in shining armor too.” I giggled at the thought.

  “Does that make me the princess then?” Tris’s amused smile was brief and fleeting. His grip on the doorknob tightened. He turned his head to look at me with his bright blue eyes. They had an intensity to them I’d never noticed before. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

  “Sure thing kid.” I said, shocked by the force of his promise. He nodded and turned to leave but stopped midway.

  “And one more thing. I’m not a kid anymore Bern. You don’t need to treat me like one.” He said it with his back turned to me. He paused for a second or two, expecting me to respond. I said nothing. That was enough for him, I suppose, because he walked out, closing the door behind him.

That was…interesting. But I guess he was right. Tris was seventeen now and he wasn’t much younger than me. We only had an age difference of two years. I guess I’d just always thought of him as a kid because I was always the one protecting him when we were younger.

  Neither of us had many friends growing up. I was the weirdo who didn’t like Pokémon and he was the punk who always acted out. No one wanted their kids hanging out with someone always getting into trouble. At school we stuck together pretty often even though I was two grades ahead of him. We protected each other from the bullies, but more often than not I was protecting him from the kids who had grudges on him. That was when I learned that kids could be cruel. They were always pulling pranks on him, laughing at him under their breathe as he passed in the hall. They made fun of him because his family was a little poorer than the rest, and because his mom walked out on him and the rest of his family when he was just a little kid. They told him she left because of him. I was always the one to tell him they were wrong, and to nurse the wounds after he got into fights.

  I could see why he might not want me to do that anymore though. He was older, and it was probably embarrassing for a girl to protect him. It wasn’t like he really needed it these days. He was taller than me by at least a foot, and somewhere around eighty pounds heavier. He’d been in his own share of fights too. He wasn’t a stranger at taking a punch anymore and he was quickly become a master at throwing them. It would be hard but I’d have to respect his…um…masculinity?

  I couldn’t help but giggle.

  After a nice shower I felt a little bit better. I scrubbed my cheek especially hard right where the Chimchar had touched me. Stepping out of the bathroom, I realized I was pretty hungry. My stomach was growling louder than a Mightyena with a bad attitude. I sauntered off to the kitchen wrapped in my warm fuzzy robe and soft pink slippers.

  The house was a little chilly. As I walked into the kitchen I realized why. The window was propped open, letting in the cool afternoon breeze. I couldn’t remember opening the window, but I suppose I was a little out of my mind from this morning. I probably just opened it without realizing. I closed it absentmindedly as I thought about what I would make for lunch. A nice soup would be comforting. Or a stew.

  The process of making lunch took my mind off of the morning’s events. I went to work right away, dicing up vegetables for a nice minestrone. Just like the time I put into my baking skills I worked very hard to be a good cook. Food was my life, it was something to distract me from the bullying and the whispers and to gain the approval of the people who enjoyed my products. It was one of the few things I was good at.

  While the vegetables sautéed in the pot I turned to the fridge to grab some homemade vegetable broth. I looked at the date at the top of the plastic container. Damn. It was already a few weeks old, probably spoiled. I looked back at the pot longingly, wondering what to do with all those sautéing vegetables, only to realize they were no longer there.

  The whole pot was gone, the burner still going steadily. I quickly shut it and spun around, looking for the pot. It was nowhere in sight.

  “What the hell.” I put a hand to my head and leaned against the counter. Was I crazy? I was so sure I’d put those veggies there to sautée. Could I have imagined it? No, the chopping board and knife were in the sink of soapy water, both orange from the carrots. There where…

  I heard the bang of metal coming from somewhere in the house. I jumped, a hand went to my heart as it raced. Slightly shaking I moved away from the counter and walked toward the living room which was partially hidden from the kitchen by a wall. I heard the metal sound again. Like a pot banging against something sturdy. A bookshelf, which occupied the whole of one wall, held a mirror right in the center, going from the ceiling to the floor. In it I could make out the pot in question lying upside down on the ground. Nothing that I could see through the mirror was near it so I walked into the room. Without thinking, I grabbed the pot and looked inside to realize it was completely empty and still scalding hot. My hand burned fiery red.

  I threw the pot away from myself, gripping my wrist with my other hand. The pot flew across the room and banged against the opposite wall, just a foot from the couch. I threw it with enough force that the pot made a dent in the perfect white wall and, to my great annoyance, turned the painting above even more askew. But these were all secondary thoughts. At the forefront of my mind was the sound that came after the pot hit the wall.

  It was the distinct sound of something very inhuman. It was high, it was loud, and it got my heart racing even faster. I gaped at the couch, backtracking until my back hit the bookcase. The bookcase shuddered slightly from the impact, and I heard something small roll. It rolled off the book case and shattered loudly on the ground. It was followed by that sound again, the one that wasn’t human, and in seconds I was racing out of the room, wanting more than anything to get away. 

Knotted: Chapter One

This is the first chapter of my Pokemon fan fiction. 

Disclaimer: Don't be afraid Pokemon haters, because even you can learn to love this fan fiction too. It does rely quite heavily on the world of Pokemon, but it is not so childish as the TV series--or at least I hope it's not... I think you will fall in love with the characters the way I have even if you're not a lover of Pokemon. I'm trying my best to make this story the best it can be!


Episode Zero

I think of the world in terms of ribbons.

Each person has their own, invisible to the normal eye. A ribbon could be bright yellow, waving lazily to the movement of its own personal wind. Or a blushing pink, draped tenderly around the shoulders of others as if to comfort. Or maybe black as night, wrapped tightly around the throat of its master. Each ribbon is different and portrays all the emotions, thoughts, and natural inclinations of a person.

Ribbons, because of their natural ebb and flow, tend to tangle themselves to others. The tightest knots are the ones that have been tied together the longest. But even the tautest of knots can snap if the right pressure is applied to them. They can be snipped as if by a scissor, and rarely do those ever meet again. Then there are others that travel long distances, spanning miles—sometimes regions—away, and still they stretch to keep themselves tightly bound to each other.

The world, if anyone could see its entirety on this plain of existence, is a ball of tightly wound ribbons, all connected in some way or form. Yet I have not met any other person who could see these ribbons. I wish someday I could meet such a person so that he or she could see my ribbon, the one I can only catch a glimpse of out of the corner of my eye, and tell me what they see. Maybe then, through the appearance of my ribbon, will I truly know Myself. 


The day my life totally changed began fairly normally. I woke up at dawn, just as faint blue light filtered into my room. I spent the first four minutes of my morning getting ready for the day by brushing my teeth and hair and throwing on a shirt and jeans. I ate my usual toast with Pecha berry jam and a glass of Moo-Moo Milk, then I headed out the door, an umbrella in hand—because you can never know when it will rain. As I walked down the street I put my hat on to help my already applied SPF 100 sunscreen protect me from the harsh sunlight, which was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Then I checked my bag for the usual, making sure I didn't forget anything. Extra toothpaste and a toothbrush in case I wanted something garlicky for lunch, a little first aid kit—cuz you just never know—sanitizer, extra sunscreen for reapplication, a packet of hair ties, extra socks and a rollup pair of flats, and finally lose money in a wallet with a single picture of myself and the most important people in the world to me, my best friend Tris, and my brother Jared.

Jared smiled at me through the plastic casing, encouraging me to get through my day. I nodded and smiled, promising I would. I missed my brother these days. He got a job just a route over in a place called Sandgem Town. He worked with the esteemed Professor Rowan as an assistant. Jared wanted to become a Pokémon breeder specializing in steel Pokémon. He worked a lot these days, and was often out adventuring around the world to help Professor Rowan. There was a time or two when I considered visiting him myself but then I remembered I wouldn't get very far.

You see, I don't like Pokémon. I'm actually absolutely terrified of them. I'm an anomaly. Most people deal with Pokémon on a daily basis, my goal in life is to avoid them. It makes it even more of a conundrum when my whole family works closely with Pokémon. My brother traveled many of his young years as a Pokémon trainer, battling and adventuring, my mother worked the majority of her life as an assistant to Nurse Joy in Sandgem Town's Pokémon Center after she reached her dream of becoming an esteemed coordinator in the Sinnoh Region, and my Granny was a former Pokémon Champion of the Sinnoh Region.

My mom tells me she's not sure when my aversion to Pokémon started, but she noticed at a very young age I would avoid anything and everything Pokémon. As I got older I became worse. My Poképhobia advanced so far that I was once reduced to a blubbering shaking creature when I was cornered by a well-meaning Chansey. In the past year I've been able to overcome some hurdles of my phobia. Now I can be across the room from a Pokémon with only minor loss of breathe, sweaty palms, and a mild case of the jitters.

It's not the Pokémon's fault. I just have an irrational fear of them. I've never experienced any traumatic involvement in which a Pokémon shocked me with electricity or squirted me with water. I'm just odd. Do I wish I could be in the same room with a Pokémon and not freak? Of course. Do I wish I could have a friendship with one of them? Hell yeah. Do I wish I wasn't picked on because of my strange fear? More than anything.

But my life is how it is, and I can't exactly change it. So I walked on ahead to work, putting my musings behind me.


The bakery was a simple place. Lots of light, a little area for customers to enjoy coffee and pastries, and a large enough baking area for my boss, his two kids, and myself, to comfortably work in. But I definitely had to admit, Four Cakes was quite a bit grungy. The lights on the ceiling were foggy, the lights in the display cases no longer worked, the oven was at least fifty years old, and the walls were in need of a fresh coat of paint. And yet it was close to a sanctuary to me. Four Cakes was the only business in town that did not have Pokémon working alongside the customers. Occasionally a Pokémon would walk in with a customer and I would take care to hide in the back room until my boss took care of them. Later I would reappear like a Ditto coming out of his hole—which, I suppose, isn't the best analogy considering. 

Right now though, we'd not yet opened. I was prepping the shop while Dan, my boss, was out to get some of the extra supplies we needed. I busied myself with the bread, sliding the already baked loaves out of the dinosaur oven and placing them in baskets on the shelves behind the counter. The smell of fresh baked bread is the absolute best smell in my opinion. It helped to calm and prep me for a busy day of work.

I continued on with the work at hand when I heard the back door open.

"Hi Tris," I called. Tris was Dan's younger son. His oldest worked in a bank in town. Being a baker was not something he'd ever strived for. He hoped for a bigger cash pot. Tris though was still a year shy from graduating. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do with his life. All he knew was that he would not take charge of the bakery alone. Tris believed he didn't have the patience to run the bakery. Or the maturity. I thought.

Tris was known in town as a major bad boy. He spent most of his free time playing pranks, and just all together goofing off. I personally loved him for his dry, albeit sometimes offensive, humor because it usually brightened my day and gave me a good laugh. Unfortunately, others weren't so appreciative. Let's just say Tris and Officer Jesse knew each other very well.

"Tris?" I called again. The front door opened. I turned ready to tell whoever it was to leave and come back when we were open. Looking up I saw, to my astonishment, Tris looking tired as hell. His hair was in a disarray, and his clothes were muddy.

"What happened to you?" I asked running over to him with the wet rag I'd been using to clean the front counter. I wiped some of the dirt off his face. He was leaning against one of the few lopsided tables in the front of the bakery breathing hard, like he'd ran the marathon of his life.

"I got into a little bit of trouble," He said between pants. I stopped wiping down his face.

"What kind of trouble?" I gave him the Look. He peeked at me from the corner of his eye not daring to glance at me for more than a second. He knew the Look meant bad things.

"That doesn't matter right now. I've got to hide before he finds me." Tris stood up shakily.

"Yeah you're right. I think your dad's here," I said, thinking again about the backdoor. "If he sees you like this, you'll be in so much trouble." I looked at a scrape along his arm that was welling blood. Remembering the first aid kit in my bag, I dashed behind the counter.

"No Bernie. Not from my dad. I have to hide from…" I was so preoccupied with my first aid kit that I didn't even hear him. I didn't notice when he stopped mid-sentence, and the little shuffling sounds behind me only registered in my brain seconds after they stopped. It wasn't until I found my first aid kit and looked over at Tris that I realized something was wrong. He was staring up over my shoulder with a wide eyed look. I froze.

"What?" I whispered. Very few things could make Tris look terrified like that.

"Don't move." He whispered back. But of course, just like the girls in horror movies, I did the exact opposite of his instruction. I spun around and there it was. Sure he was only a few feet high, and sure at any other given time most people would have thought he was the most adorable thing since the invention of the plushy, but when I saw him a cold dread hardened and stopped my heart.

Just two feet away from me was a Chimchar. He looked furious, his teeth bared in a manic scowl. His little body was shaking and radiating heat. But this wasn't your run of the mill Chimchar. He looked battle worn. A scar the length of my pointer finger was cut into his forehead just above his right eye. A chunk of his left ear was missing, torn away by what I could only imagine was a beast just as terrible and terrifying as the one I was staring in the face. Even one of his fangs was chipped slightly (from eating boulders perhaps?)

He's gonna hurt Tris! I don't know what changed inside me in that second as I realized Tris was in danger. I don't know where I pulled the sudden and very foreign bravery from. I especially don't know why in my right mind I thought that jumping in front of a very angry Chimchar was a good idea. But I did it, much to my and Tris's amazement. I have no recollection of moving, I only realized I was standing in front of Tris, limbs spread wide, as the Chimchar sprang from where he was standing high up on the shelves. I shut my eyes, ready to face the pain ahead.

I felt myself shaking. My heart sped to a running pace, pulsing in my ears. I listened for the sound of a Pokémon's cry but all I heard was the gasp from Tris behind me. I balled up my fists, digging my fingers so hard into my palms that I felt blood seep down my hand and onto the floor. It was so quiet I heard the little pish sound of each drop on the linoleum tile. I stood there for what felt like a lifetime wondering why this bloodthirsty creature had not already rid me of my pitiful life. I slowly opened my eyes.

The Chimchar was just inches away from my face, perched by his feet on top of a chair. He was looking at me with something like confusion. This close up the ragged scar across his forehead was intimidating, the chunk missing from his ear was absolutely terrifying. But he did nothing to hurt me.

"Bern." Tris reached for my hand and tried to pull me toward him, but I couldn't move. I was paralyzed. Could Pokémon do that, paralyze you with a single look? The Chimchar looked down at Tris's hand then back at me. He raised one of his hands toward me. I stiffened. His hand paused. He continued to look at me, using what seemed to be caution. He blinked a few times and continued to reach out to me.

The Chimchar placed a single finger on the tip of my nose stirring from me a little girlish squeak. He tipped his head to the side watching every emotion that flashed across my face with startling intensity. He placed a palm against my cheek. He was so gentle, the warm callouses of his palm just barely touching my skin.

I couldn't move my eyes away from his. With the passing seconds and the dawning realization that this frightening creature seemed to have no intention of hurting me, I began to watch his face as well. I observed the subtle hints of his features which allowed me to read his emotions. I especially watched his eyes. I saw something in them that broke my heart.

First was the anger. It was something so fierce and frightening that I was sure my heart must have stopped for ten seconds in the least. But the anger quickly melted into nostalgia and hurt and suffering. That one look told me so much about this Pokémon, and allowed me to see his aura, a twirling, chaotic thing. The thin ribbon flew around him moving every which way, jerking left then right, then left again. It looked exhausting, all that constant, enraged, pained emotion.

Something changed inside me. Suddenly this new ribbon was tied onto my own, and I could feel everything the Chimchar's ribbon held. The sorrow, the betrayal, the anger, pain, and above all, the loneliness. I felt the emotions like they were my own as they overwhelmed my body, taking up the whole of my heart and leaking deep into my bones. How this little Chimchar could feel so much emotion was beyond me, but it was there seeping from him in deep blood red.

"Tris, Bernie? You guys there?" It was Dan's voice coming from the back room. The Chimchar stiffened and broke his gaze from mine. Before I could tell what was happening he was gone, his emotions tore away from my body. I cried out in pain, gripping my chest. Then I blacked out.

Thank you so much for reading. I'll be posting more on this blog very soon, but if you want to keep reading this story now, just check it out at fanfiction.net (I have ten chapters up there). Keep coming back for other types of posts as well-- yes, that's right Pokemon haters, I'll have stuff for you guys too!