"Pardon me, Sir. How much do you want for this?"
"S'free, take it."
"What? Are you sure? I can pay you f--"
"I said you can take it! Now get out of here!"
The above was a brief exchange of words between a very edgy young man, possibly in his late twenties, and myself at a yard sale I happened by. I always find the most interesting things at yard sales and flea markets. I'm normally there for books, but I'll occasionally happen across something else that I find worth my time.
I didn't find any books this time around; the entire sale seemed to be comprised of children's toys, clothes for both little boys and little girls, as well as some items I'd expect a young married woman to use. Silken night clothes, stacks of cheesy romance novels that I had no interest in (I can't read pure romance, I need something like murder or mystery to make it interesting), jewelry, as well as several cases of makeup, most of which appeared to be half used.
I found the used makeup to be in bad taste. If you no longer had a use for it, throw it away. Don't try to peddle what's touched your face to other people... it's disgusting. I kept these thoughts to myself, however, as the man running the small junk sale seemed far from stable.
As I was about to leave, something blue peeking out from underneath a small, grey plush caught my eye. Colors always catch my attention, especially blue, so I lifted the plush to examine it. To my surprise, it was a Pokémon Blue game. Not that I had been looking for one, but I felt like experiencing a little nostalgia... even though the first generation of games wasn't my favorite, it reflects back to a much simpler time in my life.
The cartridge had the word "Tears" written neatly in black across the image of the Blastoise. I assumed it was a nickname of some sort, perhaps the previous owner of the game cried a lot. It was within a bunch of child things, perhaps they were young enough to be labeled a "crybaby" by others and "Tears" was just a nicer name... I'm not sure. Anyway, I got the game for free, but I left a dollar on the table just so I'd feel better for taking it.
When I got home, I inserted the game in my SP and turned it on. The sound at the start up screen was greatly distorted... it sort of fluctuated from being several tones lower than normal to being nothing more than a low rumble. It was... unsettling to say the least. Naturally, I assumed the game was faulty, but I thought I'd play through until something froze up on me.
The previous owner, this "Tears" person, still had a game on file (as would be expected with a used game) but no information about playtime, character name, or anything else of that sort was displayed when that option was highlighted. Curious, I chose the previously started game, just to see where they were with everything. A child was bound to have an interesting game with creative names... Insight into the innocent mindset that was slowly becoming rarer with each passing year...
Upon choosing the previously saved game, I was met with a black screen and silence. I felt disappointed; the game seemed to already have messed up on me. I was just about to turn it off when a dialogue box popped up.
I began to read, but the text was moving painstakingly slow:
..........
I've been robbed of everything...
My title as champion...
My grandfather's respect...
... Even my Pokemon are dead because of you...
... I won't stand for this...
I will come to find you.
YOU ARE READING
Pokemon Syndrome
FanfictionThere are many myths and mysteries about this so called "kids play" a video game called Pokemon, there has been a lot of mysteries and theories about Pokemon. Many people have experienced this traumatizing experiences. Now we will find out the reas...