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Go Back   Pokemon Forum - Pokemon Elite 2000 » Interactive Boards » Creative Writing

Creative Writing Share your fan fiction, stories, poems, essays, editorials, song lyrics, or any other related written work. All written must be your creation. Start a new thread, and keep replying to that thread as you add on more chapters. Anyone can join in at anytime.


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  #1  
Old 02-13-2005, 07:49 AM
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Default Drenched Pride

OOC: This was a story I had to do for English. It really has no point, just that it had to be about something that could actually happen, and had to involve strong emotions. So whatever. Just thought I'd post it 'cause I'm bored and stuff. XD


Drenched Pride

Hank Winston, the most powerful man in Roxwell, humbly made his way to an all too familiar place near the edge of town. His pace was slowed as the soggy ground began to quickly incline into a rather steep mound. He stopped midway up the hill and shifted his aging, hazel eyes towards the darkened afternoon sky. The gray and purple blanket that covered the heavens stared back as rain began to paint the old man’s bony cheeks and wrinkled forehead, which the brim of his hat had shielded until now.

Hank was a very successful business man in his day, yet a very cruel one; his cheap tricks and slimy tactics had earned him as much hatred as it had greed and power. He had started out running a small funeral parlor in the eastern part of the small village; it was there that his heart began its transition into ice cold stone. Death was all he saw for more than twelve years, and it was enough to drain the emotion out of any human being, especially one who never had much to spare in the first place.

When Hank was thirty-two years of age, he began his reign as the local Scrooge by opening up several more parlors in addition to a flower shop, and even a small tombstone carving market, which his cousin was employed as the junior manager. Yes, Hank was indeed wise, being sure to entwine all of his investments in order to achieve higher profit, but that wasn’t enough for him….

The taste of power overwhelmed the man’s entire being, and he became nothing but a wretched soldier of greed. His prices quickly rose to an unbelievable height, which the poverty-dwelling townsfolk just could not pay. However, they needed Hank’s services, for these people were very moral and wouldn’t dare stand for their loved ones to have a dishonorable departure from this world. That being so, the villagers were forced to sell what possessions they had in order to meet Mr. Winston’s unfair pricing. In the end, Hank ended up owning most of Roxwell.

In his entire rein of evil, one obstacle stood in his heart’s way towards total darkness, Emily Tucker. She was indeed the only woman to ever show the man any kindness whatsoever, and he had respected that. It was she that invited him to be her guest for the annual Christmas feast held in Town Square. It was Emily that had visited him on days in which he was ill and unable to cook or clean for himself. She had always been an unspoken friend to him, even though he only showed her mild kindness. Somehow Miss Tucker had been able to see the man buried deep within the monster, and for that he was grateful.

She had socialized with him for years, and had shown him something so priceless and so new to his life; she had shown him love. With all of his riches, it was the one thing he needed, the one thing he craved, and with her he had at last obtained it.

However, Hank’s pride was as strong as Emily’s love for him, and it refused to wilt. As much as Emily hinted for him to ask the all too magical question, he would not. He wanted it, oh yes, but his stubborn soul would never admit any feelings for the woman other than friendship, thus the incredible bond of marriage never took place between the two.


A brilliant streak of lightning bolted from the atmosphere and touched down just behind the distant mountains, its forks giving off an eerie resemblance to the veins on the back of Hank’s wrinkled hand. He shuddered at the cold chill that the young storm had summoned, and then he continued on his journey.

He found it slightly ironic that the one whom he had denied love for so many years was the one whom he was now on his way to visit, even in these weather conditions; it was so out of his character. Maybe he could at last admit his feelings, for he realized his pride was nothing but pure foolishness. It was his sole enemy, and it had declined his needful plea for the one thing he truly wanted in this harsh world.

Hank’s frail legs began to ache from the cold and the force that they now had to produce in order to proceed up the steep terrain. His feet threatened to trip on the silky grass on more than one occasion, but he managed to maintain his posture, even as rain beat forcefully on his gray polyester suit. It was, of course, an expensive suit, but Mr. Winston paid no attention to the dampness of his attire. He had to see her and some wretched storm was not going to hinder his quest.

Moments of absent mindedly walking up the open trail, Hank noticed the tension in his feet began to lessen. His eyes instinctively drifted from the ground to the scene before him; a cemetery. He swayed to a dirt path, walking passed the crowded graves, and on into another small field. This field was remarkably beautiful, which was especially odd seeing as how it was in the outskirts of a graveyard. It had many flowers planted around its boarder as if creating some sort of magical force field around the place.
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Old 02-13-2005, 07:51 AM
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Default Re: Drenched Pride

As Hank walked deeper into the flowery enigma, he noticed that small rays of sun were breaking through the darkened barrier of storm clouds, as if the sun was fighting with all its strength for the sole purpose of making the wonderful garden even more beautiful. Light eventually engulfed the area, which caused the many colored petals of the various flowers to shine with an iridescent glow that made Hank’s pupils swiftly shrink.

“It’s such a fitting place for her,” he muttered to himself, approaching a small patch of newly dug earth beneath a giant Oak tree. “She always did love nature, especially oaks,” he continued, and then reached his left arm upwards to remove his moist hat.

A gentle breeze picked up, and as if confirming his presence, a single oak leaf fell from its branch and landed inches in front of his feet, just barely touching the brown soil before him.

“I… I really do love you, Emily,” he whispered in a shaky voice. His consistent pride still did not want to release those words, but his heart had finally overpowered his stubbornness, and his mission was complete. At last, she knew.

He then placed a scarlet rose next to her exquisite white tombstone, which he himself had made free of charge to her family. It was pitiful, to say the least, that the death of his beloved was what it took to break the seemingly invincible, icy wall that surrounded his heart. Now, he truly was a new man, maybe not a good man, but he was trying. As they say, old habits die hard, but he truly was trying.

“I’ll never forget her,” he whispered as he stood to go, placing the hat back on top of his silvery hair. “Not that it would even be possible. Trying to forget someone you loved is like trying to remember someone whom you’ve never even met,” he finished, and then turned to leave.

As he made his way out of the garden, he felt light droplets start to trickle down his sunken face, just as they had moments before in the small rainstorm. However, these droplets were not to be blamed on the rain, for it had ceased several minutes ago.

The End
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