VulpixDreamer: Way different from my normal style. I came up with the idea for this one 
while I was overly depressed today at 7:30 A.M. Just to let you know, this one should 
probably be rated PG-13 for violence and language, so don't read it if you don't like that 
kind of stuff. And don't flame me about it, because I warned you. This might be slightly 
depressing.

He pulled his hat further over his face and bent down, laying the flowers near the 
stone. The snow melted and joined his tears, seeping into the dirt where grass had yet to 
begin growing. He pulled the thin blue and white jacket tighter around his body and just 
stood there.
Flowers of thousands of colors surrounded the cold stone at which the young man 
stood. On it, the name Misty Yawa was printed, along with two dates, the day she was 
born, and the date of only 3 days ago. Exactly 3 days before, the person who lay buried 
there in the cold ground had been cheering on her best friend as he battled against a 
gyarados, with none other than his little electric rodent, Pikachu. "Thunder!" He had 
yelled to the little pokemon, right before the match was interrupted by a scream of pain 
from her. He ran to her aid, dropping to his knees beside her. "Misty?" He had whispered, 
raising his hand up to touch her cold, tear-stained face. She had whispered his name in 
return and moaned as he lifted her up. A man standing in the shadows had only stared at 
this sight, and then disappeared. "Misty, You can't die. DON'T DIE DAMN IT!" He had 
yelled, hugging her to his chest, and getting his black T-shirt covered in the sticky red 
substance that was leaking from her chest. "Misty." He hispered again, staring at her 
angelic face as her breathing slowly ceased and her heart stopped. His heart skipped 
several beats as this had happened and he stared. "Misty, open your eyes, please, don't 
die." He put his hand to her chest, hopeful to feel the gentle beating of her kind heart, but 
no such beating was evident.
The next day, her picture was in the newspaper and beneath it read: "Misty Yawa, 
from Cerulean City, died yesterday of a bullet to the chest. She was a well-known water 
pokemon master." More had been there, but that's how far the young man standing there, 
had read before his tears had smudged the inking making it very difficult to read the rest.

He sighed and turned, shoving his gloved hands into the pockets of his blue jeans. 
"Misty." He whispered, glancing behind him and then shaking his head hopelessly. He 
walked away, attempting to resist the urge to scream out the question that was filling his 
thoughts. 'Why? Why Misty? Why not me? I would gladly gone in her place.'
His dark black hair was untidy and his clothes were dirty. Large black circles 
were under his chocolate colored eyes from lack of sleep. People stared at him as he 
walked down the street toward the hotel where he was staying. He walked through the 
automatic glass doors and into the elevator, riding it up to the 5th floor and proceeding to 
his room. 
The room had only a dim light shining from a lamp that was on a table near a 
chair that had been turned to face the window. He reclined in the chair and sighed 
heavily. It was apparent that it was still snowing as he stared out the window. His 
pokemon were not there to comfort him, for he had sent them to his mother in Pallet 
Town, feeling he had to be alone.
There was a sudden loud bang, and a bullet came speeding at his head.

To be continued.

VulpixDreamer: Wow, that was new. No, it's not over yet. Forgive the short chapter 
please; I wanted to end it there, so there would be a little suspense. Anyway, please 
review if you don't mind. Flames are accepted, but looked down upon if you don't tell 
me how I could improve the story. Yes, believe it or not, this is going to become an 
AAMRN in the next chapter.