gengar girl (Pokemon Creepypasta)

A lone female Pokémon Trainer lies silently on the side of a road.

It is raining, the cruel wind and ice chills her to the bone, and she is broken.

She takes out a single pokéball and stands up.

And she crushes that pokéball with a stomp of her foot.
--

She never wished that things had turned out the way they did. In fact, just the opposite.

Her mother and friends have forgone consoling her. Even they know that she is too far gone.

What they do not know is that, little by little, her tears will make a river.

But they will learn of that eventually.

More specifically, they will learn of that when that river floods its banks.
--

She imagines its coarse smile. The smile that haunted her, tortured her, paralyzed her, and eventually broke her.

The smile that she has grown to love.

She loves it because the pain reminds her that she is still alive.
--

It rings in her dreams, loud and red. She grows increasingly aware of the waves pummeling her ears.

They reverberate in her skull.

But she does not cover her ears. She knows that the constant ringing in her ears is not a sound.

It is white static caused by the faintest shadow of a smile.
--

A black veil is draped over the world. Moonlight whispers softly to the sky. Shadows laugh and dance in her eyes.

And a ghost of her past whips back and forth.

The world lurches one final time and then waits silently for her. All is still and she closes her eyes on held breath.

The air of a million dark desires brushes softly against her skin. Releasing a breath, her body relaxes, and she accepts the curse as her own.

She falls to the ground.
--

She has a revelation before the black.

Yes, a nice revelation. That will do.

No one ever notices the tears of the weak, she thinks. Not until they form a river and they drown themselves in it.

She smiles and leans her head back.

Well, then, they would be noticing hers soon.

And, slowly but surely, her tears drop down.
--

She discovers, with a reddening of her eyes, that some people speak because they like hearing themselves. She has seen many of them throughout her life. There are too many for
her to count.

But that does not matter.

What matters is that there are too many.

She recalls her Pokémon. Did it bite the hand that fed it? Thinking of it now, she cannot blame the little purple-furred creature. She had received it as a gift from a friend. The Pokémon, not too delighted about being wrapped up and offered to another, as if it were an item, constantly disobeyed its new Trainer.

But did that Trainer deserve a curse?

She ponders that now, even as her head spins. She does not speak because she has no one. She used to like hearing her own voice, until it became rusted shut and vile.

But, she thinks, that does not matter now.

What matters-

Actually, never mind. Nothing mattered anymore. She could have drowned in her own tears, her own river, and no one would have given a damn.

Then she remembers the cold, harsh smile.

She leans her head back. Her body relaxes.

And somewhere, in a tiny pocket of the Sinnoh region, a river begins to flood its banks.
--

One year later

My tears freeze up as I approach the small, grey headstone. It is tiny and depressing-just how she would have wanted it. Just like how she died.

The blood red roses pass from my hands to the chilled earth. The winter frost laces my breath and permeates my body. But it is nothing like the frost that freezes my core.

She never realized how downhill everything had gone, how dark her life had become. How could she have? You never believe how dark it’s become until you realize how bright the light is.

But she never got to see the light.

Was that a good or a bad thing? A blessing or a curse? For all of us, there is a time where we must find our own light. She never did, however. She carried on with only her own dark shadows and a crooked grin.

And look where she is now.

I hope that you’re in a better place now, I think to her, to the sky, to no one. I hope that whatever made you suffer, whatever troubled you in your short time here, does not follow you.

I hope it stays here.







Somewhere in the distance, a wheezing laugh merges with the cold, icy winter.