A/N: I decide to write a Christmas ficcy and this is what I get? I am appalled. This is just about the most dark, disturbing thing I've ever written. I'm such an emo ^^;;; The night I wrote it I got nightmares. But that might be a result of me being 11 and going to bed at midnight the night I wrote it. But it's still very disturbing. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: ...I don't own Pokemon. Go me.

shadow

"Hey, Misty?"

"Mmm?"

The two teenagers sat in a pavilion, watching delicate snowflakes fall around them. He was dressed in a plain blue jumper and jeans; she in a woollen yellow jacket and tracksuit pants.

"You think we'll be friends forever?"

She shrugged. "Why not?"


The girl sat on a plain wooden chair in a small room. The room was dark and had black carpet and plain grey walls and smelled of loneliness and cold. The only sound was of her own choked sobs. The furniture was plain and inexpensive - a bed, a mirror; a television buzzing quietly on AV, flecks of grey, white and black crackling past on the screen.

He watched a snowflake settle on her shoulder and melt away into the wool. "Because things never last."

She looked up suddenly, fearfully. "What did you say?"


The girl's head was bowed, tears falling into her lap. Her hair was a vivid orange, wavy and thick, tumbling down her back. Her skin was ghostly pale. Her eyes were shining brightly with tears, their sea-green colour dammed by her sorrows and the darkness of the room. Something was clasped tightly in her hand. Something sharp. She lifted it and prepared to do the unthinkable.

The door opened a crack and pale, eye-hurtingly bright light flooded into the room. The girl dropped the knife looked up. A figure stood silhouetted against the light. "Close the door," the girl said, another tear falling from her eyes. She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

The figure did so, and the room was restored to the brain-numbing darkness of before. "In here reminiscing again?" asked the man in a deep voice. He was dark-skinned, with slitted eyes and broad shoulders.

The girl nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. "Christmas was his favourite time of year," she said.

The man sighed. "It's hard to let go, isn't it?"

"It was a long time ago."

"Just promise me, okay?"

She frowned. It wasn't like him to be so serious. She searched his face. He looked back at her. She shrugged and turned away. "Whatever you say, Ash."

"Misty..."

"Yes?" Her voice was short and irritable. He looked at her almost sadly for a moment, then sighed.

"Nothing."

There was silence. The dark-skinned man absently watched dots of shadow whirl past on the television screen. The girl stared into the distance, her face streaked with tears. The light from the television cast dark shadows on her round, pale face.

"It's dark," said the man.

"Yes."

"You like the dark, don't you?" He spoke kindly and gently, as if the girl was a small child.

"The dark is always the same," she said. "It doesn't change and twist and let you down just when you started trusting it."

The sky was a brilliant white, hurting their eyes. "Come on," she said suddenly, "Snowball fight. Now." She grabbed his hand and pulled him out into the snow.

"Aww, come on, Mist..."

"What's all this about things not lasting? Of course we'll be friends forever. Why wouldn't we be?" She wouldn't admit it, but he was scaring her. What was wrong with him?

"Misty, I have to tell you something..."


"The light does?"

"Light is never the same," she said. "Shadows are made by light."

He pondered this. "I suppose you're right," he said finally. "But the darkness can twist things, make you see things, and when it swallows you up you're done for."

"But all the darkness is created by light."

He sighed. "I knew it. You're gone."

"Things never last," she said.

She took a step back, sinking ankle-deep into the snow. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Misty, I..."

"How come you never told me?" she asked accusingly, cutting him off.

He looked at her pleadingly. "I didn't know you'd be this upset. But I see now, I was wrong. Please...it's Christmas, Misty. Can't you be happy for me?"

"What's there to be happy about?" she said crushingly.

He looked at her for a moment. "No," he said with an air of finality. "No, they don't. Are you sure you're not going to come down and eat something?"

"Why bother?" she asked. "I'm not going to enjoy it."

He turned away and said quietly, "No. But it's not all about you, Misty. I'm sorry you can't figure that out."

"I...I..." He searched desperately for the words.

She stared at him. "Congratulations," she said quietly. "May is one lucky girl."

He gazed back and for a minute they looked into each other's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's over," she said. "It's over!" Then she ran. She stumbled and fell face forward into the snow. He rushed to help her. "Get away from me!" she screamed, pushing him away. And she was gone.

He stood numbly in the snow, looking at the imprint she had made when she fell. "Why didn't you promise?" he murmured.


The man left the room. He slammed the door. She recalled his words. "The darkness can twist things, make you see things, and when it swallows you up you're done for."

Make you see things.

She looked around the room. Shadows crept up the walls, dark and ominous. They would make any normal person feel intimidated at the very least; frightened and paranoid.

"I knew it. You're gone."

She felt right at home with the shadows.

"What do you mean, gone? It's Christmas, for God's sake!"

"He was with Misty!"

"What happened?"

"Yeah, Misty, what happened?"

She avoided their eyes. "I - I don't know. I left and...and now he's gone."

"Why on earth did you do that?"

"Misty?" She touched the girl's shoulder, her blue eyes shining with tears. "Tell me you didn't leave him out there."


She stood up. So she was a shadow. A reflection of what she used to be. A horribly twisted, altered version of Misteria Waterflower. Now she was just - her. A shadow. So what? She understood what she had done. She had declined the offers and promises of light - her friends and family, the comfort of home, everything she knew. She had stepped into brooding, pooling darkness and slowly, over all these years, it had taken over her.

She smiled and picked up the knife.

"So what if I did?" said Misty, drawing away instinctively.

May bit her lip. "They say it'll be a blizzard tonight."


Well, if this was who she was now, she wouldn't deny it. The shadow slid the knife into her pocket, stepped towards the door and stretched her hand toward the doorknob.

"That...that can't be him, can it?"

Misty, Richie and May stared down at the skinny, frostbitten body half unearthed from the snow.

"That isn't him, right guys?"

May and Misty didn't reply.

She turned the knob and opened the door. Light flooded the room, picking out her delicate features, glinting in her ocean-blue eyes.

"Is he...is he..." Richie didn't dare to ask the question. May and Misty didn't dare to answer it. May reached out and brushed some snow from his jumper.

She began to walk slowly towards the stairs and then descend them.

"We have to get him back," said Misty, turning on her torch. "Come on, get ready..."

Little by little, as the moon rose and sank, they managed to haul him back.


She reached the bottom of the stairs and said, "Merry Christmas."

"Ash!" Delia cried, rushing forward and taking him in her arms. "He's been out there all night?"

"He was half-buried in snow when we found him."


Everybody looked up. Brock smiled. "Hi, Misty."

She grinned too, but it must have been a malevolent expression, because the smile vanished from his face.

"It's Christmas! It's his favourite day of the year! He's so...so young!" Delia seemed to be pleading with them.

"I'm sorry, Delia," said Richie.


"Misty? What's the matter?" asked May.

"With me? Oh, nothing. But with you?" Her hand moved to her pocket. The colour drained from everybody's faces.

"I should have promised him," said Misty, tears rolling down her cheeks. Brock squeezed her hand. "If I had promised him, none of this would have ever happened."

She drew the knife. It glinted in the light. She held it up so it sparkled brightly. "See, Brock," she said with a lopsided smile, "In the dark, you couldn't see this, could you? And you couldn't feel it either. But since you chose to be happy..." She took a step forward. "You will feel it. And it will hurt." Brock shook his head slowly, terror etched into his face. "And by the way, I'm not Misty. Not any more." Her eyes flashed; the knife did the same. Richie and May hugged each other, petrified. Gary fainted. Delia and Samuel Oak huddled together. "I'm a shadow."

"You think we'll be friends forever?"

"Why not?"

"Because things never last."

~ ~ ~

In case you couldn't tell, Misty had gone insane. 'Swallowed up by shadows'. I'm way too mature for my age. *points at self* GO WATCH BLUE'S CLUES! Lolz.