Lost {1st Place Champion in Short Story (PWA 2017)}

Why?

True to her word, we set off on the road to Lumiose Village the next day. My heart pounded with anticipation when we left the center and made our way onto the leafy pathway. Trixie gave me a lighthearted grin. "I've been to Lumiose City before," she explained. "It was a while ago before I met you."

It must have been a while ago.

"The thing is, I never got to really sightsee. I'm guessing you haven't either." I shook my head. "You've been there before?"

"Phan!" I chirped in agreement.

"Odd... Well, I did find you here on Route 16. Have you happened to wander there?" I only shrugged in reply, not knowing what else to say. How could I tell her, anyway? I was only a Pokémon who could say its name.

It was then we made our way into the forests of the route. The trees gave me chills as it reminded me of that bitter night when I was last human. I began to feel goosebumps crawl all over me, despite my lack of skin, and I clung onto Trixie's shoulder. She held me close and stared at me curiously. "Didn't you live here?" she asked me. I shuddered, shaking my head quietly, which forced a puzzled expression on her face. "Well, I'm not one to judge," she sighed. "One day you'll tell me."

We continued deeper into the field of amber trees. I began to get the feeling that we had strayed from the main path, as muddy swamps began to appear that were not present before. At this point, I was cradled in Trixie's grasp, both of us requiring each other's presence to keep our sanity. I felt her gulp as she trodded through the mush and algae beneath her. Her shoes and socks were soaked brownish-green by the residue of the murky water. After a few minutes of wandering, she stopped in her tracks and looked around, stooped. "I think we're lost, buddy," she announced. I rolled my eyes at the obvious comment, earning a little nudge from her hand. "We should retrace our steps..."

We made a few attempts to find anything familiar around the surrounding area, but everything seemed to be different everywhere we turned. Trees and stumps littered the ground. Worry and confusion began to surge through my system. When was the last time it rained here? When were there ever swamps? Everything was so foreign to my memory that it made me dizzy; I had to bury my head into Trixie's shirt.

It was a while later when I heard her sloshing footsteps come to a halt. "Hey, look what I found," she said in a hushed voice. I peeked my head over her arm, and what I saw made me twinge with fear. I couldn't believe it:

It was my house.

The exact wooden shelter that once held me and my family. The same place where we shared such fond memories together... before the incident.

It was my house, except the pale blue paint that had coated the wood was peeling away from the structure, dirtied by muddy residue. The white door had lost its pearly shine, and the windows were cracked and shattered as if a hailstorm had barraged it. The entire house was rotting from the damp water that soaked it and the moss that ate away at the rooftops where the Fletchling used to sing.

I froze. What happened?!

Trixie must have noticed my behavior, as she looked at me, concerned. She feverishly asked me what was wrong, and with no hesitation, I drifted away from her arms towards the house like it was a magnet. She managed to catch my arm and pull me to face her. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden?" she questioned. "Do you really want to go in there?" I responded with a longing gaze that made her eyes readjust onto mine with a new and trusting understanding. "Does this house... mean something to you...?" I nodded slowly, fixing my sights on my home once more. Trixie finally sighed and let go of me. "Alright. Let's go."

With a twist of the golden doorknob that I had touched all those times ago, the door creaked open to reveal the living room, bathed in an ominous purple glow. Everything seemed so dusty and old, the bed was musky and wrinkled as if no one had touched it in a long time. I looked around until my eyes caught a mysterious old man who stood in the middle of my house. He didn't look familiar at all, despite the lack of lighting. The fireplace cast a dim shine that lit him from behind, so I could make out most of his details. He had wrinkles on his face, which were sagging like a Grimer. His body was tall and thin, and he was dressed head to toe in a fancy white suit to match his graying hair. I began to feel threatened with him being in the house. Papa was nowhere to be found, and this man was the only other person in my home. What did he do to Papa? Irrational anger boiled within me.