Sacrifice {A Dark Pokémon Fan-Fiction}

Chapter I: Lost, Found, and Dead

When I saw the body, I screamed.

Not a small yelp one emits from a friend rounding the corner and giving them a little scare; one they always tease about later. No.

Instead, my neck snapped back as a blood-curling cry rose in my throat and propelled itself outward with little resistance. My voice cracked as I stumbled backward and tripped over a loose piece of gravel, tumbling to the forest floor. Scrapes and bruises revealed themselves as the stench of rotting flesh swelled in my nostrils, like the smell of meat long expired, or the reeking odor of two, dead rats shoved up your nose.

Dead—that's how it hit me. The girl was dead, and long dead, at that.

"F-Faith?" The question emerged, though it sounded less of one and more of a plea for reassurance. "Are you okay?!—oh, Ronald, don't you go down there, too!"

As I forced myself to look up, Staravia fluttered their wings and navigated through the canopy of leaves to escape the disturbance I caused. I couldn't find the words manifest a response—it was as if my throat had dried up and was unable to produce a single word.

A dream. A dream—and it's time to wake up . . ! I squeezed my eyes shut, urging myself to come to my senses.

Boots slammed against the muddy ground drenched in yesterday's rain, and the pitter-patter of lighted steps trailed behind them.

The lighter steps stuttered to an abrupt stop when a gasp surfaced. "What the hell . . . oh my Arceus, that can't be—" the feminine voice choked on a sob, "that can't be—Ronald!" The pitch was suddenly raised as distraught coated the words, "Don't go closer to that thing!"

A hand cradled my neck, raising it and myself upward to a sitting position. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes as furrowed eyebrows and hazel irises hovered above my face—etched with concern.

"Faith, are you alright?"

It was as if the man was ignorant to the situation and the corpse was nonexistent. His composure was calm, mature—poised with authority. When he bit his lip and started to bring his face closer to mine in deeper concern, I shook my head rigorously and shuffled backwards on my hands and knees.

"Okay," I began, ". . . I'm okay, Ronald—b-but that . . !" My words trailed off.

He didn't even cock his head backward; only looked forward to the petit figure I could detect if I raised my eyes almost behind my head. "Jessie, get the Ranger."

It was met with protest. "But, I could just call—"

"There's no service for miles. Do it, now."

"But—"

The girl's hand twitched, and behind the man, her eyelids peeled backward to reveal empty sockets, soaked in dried blood. Her head seemed to tilt my way, and her blue lips parted to reveal a mouth void of a tongue. A single breath escaped her, and she formed one word with an outstretched hand that grasped the soles of my sneakers.

Die.