This is an old oneshot that I wrote back in 2009. Read away! Beware, however: it is gruesome and not for little children. Fair warning has been given; if you click the "read more" button, then you are the only one at fault.
This is actually a copy+paste from fanfiction.net, since that is where I originally had it posted.
This is actually a copy+paste from fanfiction.net, since that is where I originally had it posted.
Rating: PG-13 for Violence & Gore
Starla's Shadowy Nightmare....
Just a wee thing, Starla had just opened her eyes. However, she did not like it when she did. Life was a nightmare. She wished she could close her eyes again, but her soft fur and her opal eyes could not go back. Back to when her eyes were closed and the only things that mattered were the milk, mom, and sleep.
"Mom!" her thoughts screamed. her mom was gone. "Mom!" Again, the thought reverberated. Where was her mom? The warm fuzzy happy filling was gone, her vulnerable little body filled with fear. Unrecognizable scent. Instinct to run. That scent! Death was near. "Mom!" The single lonely thought reverberated through her head, cold and clear. In its wake, it sowed fear. Cold, undeniable fear.
No sounds, just that scent of death. Alone? No, not alone. Sounds now, coming near. Heartbeats? No, just one. Breating. Definite breathing besides her own. Something touching her. Warm, sort of. Scaly. Her small body lifted up and pressed against another body.
"Alive definitely. Newborn, probably needs milk." Quiet mutterings filled the silence.
"Milk? Mom?" She crawled closed to that warm being. It has Mom. Safe. It has Milk. She nuzzled closer.
"Cute. Get it back to the base."
"Ba-se?" her thoughts mimicked tiredly.
"Milk first."
Scaly paws peeling her away. One paw now. Something warm pressed to her face. "Milk?" Eager movements before eager suckling. Milk rushes down he throat to soothe the hunger knawing at her belly. Full. Slowing down. "Sleep..." the new lonely thought before sleep steals her away into unconciousness.
Conciousness breaks as dawn brings the new sun. Her eyes open. The Nightmare comes.
"She's awake!" That voice. Milk.
"Milk? Mom?" Two thoughts now, not so lonely.
A strange new creature comes near. Orange. It lifts her: that famliar scaly feeling. She looks up into his face. But the nice voice is gone. The eyes are filled with hate.
Scared of the hatred in his eyes, she cowers. He throws her in a box. She falls on her side. Pain tears across her side from the impact. The instinct to run is back but she can go nowhere.
Something pale walks up. It, this strange new being, speaks a strange language, "Make her a Shadow Pokemon."
"Sh-A-Dow." Her mind enunciates. She cowers in the corner of her box. This new creature is strange and mean, filled with hate too. It speaks a foreign language, which she understands little of.
Another pale creature comes. Lifting the box, it carries her to a large humming machine. The moving jostles her, scaring her further as he plugs the box into the machine.
"Snap!" it clicks into place and she jumps, bumping her head.
"Now. Start the process." Paleface number two speaks.
She cowers in her box. The air around her seeps out. Her lungs burn as she tries to breathe in fresh oxygen. She cries out as agony pierces her being and she collapses to the ground, convulsing.
New to this world, so young, her conciousness is taken from her. Her body continues to twitch and convulse as every concious thought seeps away.
And then she awakens. The world is clearer. Hungry. The scent of blood. Food. She wants it. And there it is, thrown into the box. A small furry thing. Trembling and cowering, it squeals in distress as she pounces on it.
Skin and meat torn from bone, the Buneary continues to cry in agony as it bleeds out.
Blood covers her muzzle, hate glints in her eyes. Ferocity is plain, as her growls communicate.
Just a wee thing, Starla had just opened her eyes. However, she did not like it when she did. Life was a nightmare. She wished she could close her eyes again, but her soft fur and her opal eyes could not go back. Back to when her eyes were closed and the only things that mattered were the milk, mom, and sleep.
"Mom!" her thoughts screamed. her mom was gone. "Mom!" Again, the thought reverberated. Where was her mom? The warm fuzzy happy filling was gone, her vulnerable little body filled with fear. Unrecognizable scent. Instinct to run. That scent! Death was near. "Mom!" The single lonely thought reverberated through her head, cold and clear. In its wake, it sowed fear. Cold, undeniable fear.
No sounds, just that scent of death. Alone? No, not alone. Sounds now, coming near. Heartbeats? No, just one. Breating. Definite breathing besides her own. Something touching her. Warm, sort of. Scaly. Her small body lifted up and pressed against another body.
"Alive definitely. Newborn, probably needs milk." Quiet mutterings filled the silence.
"Milk? Mom?" She crawled closed to that warm being. It has Mom. Safe. It has Milk. She nuzzled closer.
"Cute. Get it back to the base."
"Ba-se?" her thoughts mimicked tiredly.
"Milk first."
Scaly paws peeling her away. One paw now. Something warm pressed to her face. "Milk?" Eager movements before eager suckling. Milk rushes down he throat to soothe the hunger knawing at her belly. Full. Slowing down. "Sleep..." the new lonely thought before sleep steals her away into unconciousness.
Conciousness breaks as dawn brings the new sun. Her eyes open. The Nightmare comes.
"She's awake!" That voice. Milk.
"Milk? Mom?" Two thoughts now, not so lonely.
A strange new creature comes near. Orange. It lifts her: that famliar scaly feeling. She looks up into his face. But the nice voice is gone. The eyes are filled with hate.
Scared of the hatred in his eyes, she cowers. He throws her in a box. She falls on her side. Pain tears across her side from the impact. The instinct to run is back but she can go nowhere.
Something pale walks up. It, this strange new being, speaks a strange language, "Make her a Shadow Pokemon."
"Sh-A-Dow." Her mind enunciates. She cowers in the corner of her box. This new creature is strange and mean, filled with hate too. It speaks a foreign language, which she understands little of.
Another pale creature comes. Lifting the box, it carries her to a large humming machine. The moving jostles her, scaring her further as he plugs the box into the machine.
"Snap!" it clicks into place and she jumps, bumping her head.
"Now. Start the process." Paleface number two speaks.
She cowers in her box. The air around her seeps out. Her lungs burn as she tries to breathe in fresh oxygen. She cries out as agony pierces her being and she collapses to the ground, convulsing.
New to this world, so young, her conciousness is taken from her. Her body continues to twitch and convulse as every concious thought seeps away.
And then she awakens. The world is clearer. Hungry. The scent of blood. Food. She wants it. And there it is, thrown into the box. A small furry thing. Trembling and cowering, it squeals in distress as she pounces on it.
Skin and meat torn from bone, the Buneary continues to cry in agony as it bleeds out.
Blood covers her muzzle, hate glints in her eyes. Ferocity is plain, as her growls communicate.
