Pokemon Creepypastas A.K.A scary stories

The dying of light

Ever since their creation in the second generation, shiny pokemon have become one of the single most desired things in the history of the franchise. And why not? They're different, beautiful-in most cases at least-and extremely rare; so much so that one could go through every one of the post-Second Gen. games ten times and

never see even one. As such, many people all over the world have discovered glitches and loopholes that can be exploited, albeit with slight difficulty, in order to obtain one of those rare and sparkling pixel creatures.

Now, I've always looked down a little on those who would cheat to get a shiny, as it seemed "impure" to catch one due to something other than the pure luck that's usually required. It takes all the wonder out of it if you merely have to punch in a code and get that rare and beautiful pokemon others could spend their lives searching for. This idea only grew stronger in my mind when I, at last, encountered my first shiny: the Ursaring I named Chernobyl, inspired by its nuclear-waste green coloring. I'd caught Chernobyl after playing these games for years, my heart pounding and my hand shaking as I clicked on the Ultra Ball icon, adrenaline rushing through me as I watched it wobble and then fall silent. How could anyone cheapen moments like this through cheating?

But then I discovered the art of soft-resetting.

It wasn't technically cheating, I thought. The chances of encountering a shiny didn't decrease, and it was entirely possible that I could spend just as many years soft resetting as I'd spent playing and never actually get one. And, yeah, perhaps I was a tad jealous of my friends and their shinies, since I couldn't actually use Chernobyl due to her stats and level in relation to my other pokemon. Just as well, I wasn't a huge fan of Ursaring, though I can hardly complain about finding one that was shiny! So while Chernobyl currently rests in my box in Soul Silver, right next to the complimentary red Gyrados, theirs were out and about in their main parties, winning battles and looking beautiful. If there was a chance that I could both obtain a useable shiny and not have to cheat to get it, I decided I would take it.

So, I turned on my DS and started up the copy of Leaf Green I'd borrowed from a friend a few months before. I'd just recently played through most of it, but my team was sub-par and I'd already sent them up into Soul Silver, so I had nothing to lose in starting over.

I racked up a full minute of game play naming my rival and myself-a boy I dubbed Jace, despite my gender-and nearly entering the tall grass before I finally stood before the table holding those three famous pokeballs. I moved to the last one, pressing A to make sure it contained who I hoped it did:

Charmander.

I smiled, clicking in and out of the save menu for the first and last time for a long while. As expected, the first one of what would be many, I was sure, was the regular blend of yellow and orange. It leapt in place on the screen and I smiled. I'd always gotten Squirtle when I was younger, adoring the tank-like qualities of Blatoise and the incredible usefulness of the water type in general, but I couldn't deny how cute Charmander was. Nor could I deny how incredibly awesome a shiny Charizard would look at the front of my team.

L+R+A+B+Start+Select.

The first combination was pressed, giving way to countless more afterward. And when I say countless, I mean I didn't even try to keep track of them. I started my mission at five-o-clock on a Thursday night and went on painstakingly pressing that same combination of buttons until around 11:15, with no luck. The same thing with the next night to no avail. And the next. And the next. I almost gave up more than once, but how many times had I given up on things like this before? And was I really going to be the one to admit I tried getting one of the most beautiful shinies in the game but gave up simply because I wasn't willing to put in the time? So I kept on going until I lost track of time, perhaps passing one in my eventual exhaustion at the monotonous task of button-pressing. I memorized the sound of Charmander's cry and the exact shade of orange coloring its skin, praying each time that it would be different and that it would appear to be leaping towards the little red star that would confirm it was, at last, the Charmander I wanted.