PK's Request
The room was mostly silent, save for the sound of soft charcoal making contact with and slowly making its way across a thick, canvas-like paper. There was only one light in this room: a small lamp which hung precariously from a makeshift holder fashioned from what appeared to be cotton string nailed to the ceiling. The lamp swayed gently, spurred on by a breeze which no doubt came from the drafty windows in other parts of this Pokemon’s house. Charcoal does not move by itself, though, and a lamp certainly has no business in lighting an unoccupied room. A creature existed here; a charcoal enabler who went by the alias of Palette.
The sounds stopped. Palette set the braid of charcoal down, stood up, and backed up a bit from her work in order to examine it for obvious flaws. The finer inspection would have to come later, as it was rather dark outside and she couldn’t help but feel a bit tired. Seemingly satisfied with her progress for the night, she took the piece off of the stand and leaned it against the wall. After making sure all of her supplies for the day were put back well within their places, she set off outside the room and up the flight of stairs to her bedroom. She walked outside into the main hallway, closing the door behind her.
Her stomach growled. It had been quite some time since she’d last eaten; drawing took most of her concentration, and, unfortunately, hunger was almost never enough to break it. Not that it would have mattered if it had, anyway. She had very little food stored away and couldn’t yet afford to buy more; she hadn’t been able to find any buyers recently for her artwork and as a result had a good old case of “down-on-your-luck” syndrome. Regardless, she decided to head off to her kitchen to see if she had anything that qualified as edible before she retired.
She was about halfway down the hall when she heard something. A very faint, very slow sound made itself known to her as she passed the open door on her left. She halted and poked her nose inside the unlit room and attempted to sniff out the source of the sound. Nothing. Well, nothing that she could smell, anyway; this room was filled with oil paints and various thinning agents for said materials and it somewhat hampered her ability to discern anything. She advanced further into the room once she was reasonably sure the sound wasn’t coming from inside, but outside near her window. She liked to keep the window open all the time in order to prevent the fumes from her paints making her dizzy in this room, but something about the sound put her in a state of unease, even if it was no longer present.
She closed the window, and, for good measure, locked it. Pressing her face close to the glass to peer outside as best she could, she gazed outside. She could spot nothing moving save for the gentle swaying of trees and grass in the distance, undoubtedly caused by the same breeze that made the basement drafty earlier. Drawing the curtains around the window closed, she took one last peek through the gap they left near the middle of the window.
Something outside near her window moved. She couldn’t get a good look at it, but it scared her.
Backing away from the window with a start, she made sure not to make any noise as she scrambled out of the room, closing and locking the door behind her. She ran to the end of the hall, stopping at the entrance to the kitchen. For the most part, the room was dark. Faint light made its way into the room by the moon and the stars from the skylight, which was merely a glass panel that could not be opened. She had always enjoyed that skylight, but now it brought her no comfort. She couldn’t help but feel that something was staring down at her from outside in the darkness, and she didn’t particularly want to hang around in the kitchen to find out if she was right. Her hunger would have to wait until morning, where she would take a look outside to see if anyone truly was creeping about her home.
Backing out of the kitchen while never taking her eyes off the skylight, she quietly went down the hall and made her way to the living room, where the only door in and out of her house resided. This room was small, and pitifully lit by an even smaller candle. Her bookshelves, which at one point in time were filled with books, and her only chair and table cast eerie shadows along the wall. They danced and bobbed to the flicker of that small flame. She wanted to extinguish the candle, but there was a window in this room, and she felt very exposed.
Why did there have to be a window next to the door?
A silly question, she told herself. She loved windows. They gave her a sense of being outside even when she wasn’t, which was often. She knew the window wasn’t what she was afraid of.
She was afraid of what was scratching at the door.
Wanting very much to shriek, she bit her tongue and remained quiet. A surge of adrenaline rushed through her as she ran as quietly as she could to the candle and snuffed it out, hastily drawing the curtains along the window. Whatever was outside couldn’t see in anymore. This also meant she was unable to see outside; she would be unable to see what the thing was doing! Struggling not to panic, she made sure the front door was locked and, for good measure, took out a key and locked the deadbolt on the top of the door. Now there was no way in without breaking a window or that key, and she’d be able to hear a window breaking.
She heard the window in her paint thinner and oil paint storage room shatter, and loudly. Whatever broke it evidently wasn’t concerned at all with subtlety now and obviously wanted a confrontation, and that she could handle. Running out of the living room and towards the storage room’s locked door, she pressed her ear close against the adjacent wall. Nothing. She was able to hear the faint sound of wind now blowing through the broken window, but sounds of an intruder she did not. Seeing as she wasn’t about to unlock the door to make sure, she started back down the hallway towards her bedroom this time.
Another window broke, and this time it was the one in the living room. She realized now that the first window was a distraction -- whatever was creeping around her house knew that there was a lockable door in the storage room.. and no door at all in the living room. A sense of dread crept up into her again as she ran into her open bedroom, closing the door behind her. There was no lock on this door, so a barricade was in order. She moved her bed frame as quickly as she could to the door, which admittedly wasn’t very fast, as it was made from solid oak.
As the bed frame approached the door, she saw the handle slowly turn. Adrenaline surged through her again as she made the final shove, slamming the almost open door closed, hopefully for good. She would be safe here now until morning, at which point she would be able to climb out the window in her bedroom and sneak around the house to see just what in the world was causing this.
The window.
In her bedroom? She never had a window in her bedroom, yet there one was. Fairly large and cracked slightly open, it offered a clear look of the world outside, but not the world she was familiar with. This view was something dark. A forest, maybe. Something was out there amidst the sickly, twisted trees, watching her with malicious intent. She had to escape this room, and quickly. Glancing back towards her door, she saw the handle had stopped moving. Whatever was stalking her knew it could no longer gain access from this avenue. She couldn’t leave from that avenue, either. The bed frame was far too heavy to move quickly, and the sound it would have made would alert anything in the house to her plan.
“Won’t you come out, my dear Palette? We need you to disappear for us.”
She knew that voice, and that wasn’t a good thing at all. She knew what it was capable of; of what it intended to do. Her mind numb with fear, she started down the stairs to the basement - her last resort. There wouldn’t be a window down there. She was at the bottom of the stairwell when she heard the window in her bedroom slide open further. Knowing full well what would happen if she stopped to look back, she kept her gaze focused on the door right in front of her.
Unlocking the door and opening it was easier said that done, as she was more than a bit panicked. She did it though, and she did it before the thing made its way down to her. Slamming the door shut and placing the lock upon it, she fell to the ground leaning against a wall, covered in a thin layer of cold sweat. She sat there for a while lost in her thoughts, of which there were surprisingly little. She’d just survived an encounter with something evil, something she had no defense against. It wasn’t fair, really. She had been prepared to deal with anything but what came for her this night. For now, though, she was alone in the quiet solitude of her darkened room; just her and her thoughts, and her art.
Her darkened room? She never extinguished the lantern earlier when she left, did she?
She came to a very final realization. All of the windows and the darkness had been a trap to lure her away from any means of escape, and now she was trapped in a small room with no way out.
She saw it, then. How she managed to see something in that pitch black room she did not know, but that really didn’t matter at all now.
A smile. An impossibly long row of razor sharp teeth made itself evident below cold, staring eyes. Countless claws made their way towards her along the wall, floor, and ceiling. There would be no more running now, no more escaping.
As the claws and teeth closed in on her, she wished she at least had gotten something to eat.
A few days later, a small crowd of Pokemon surrounded the house of Palette. Many whispers were flowing, and rumors abounded. A fire had evidently ravaged this poor artist’s residence, and the inhabitant had not been seen for quite some time.
The only form of law within Tao Village, the Patrat Patrol, finally emerged from the burnt ruins of the very modest home. Trailing them was a very small, very sad Cubone. The wagon he pulled was filled with the charred, broken skeleton of a Zoroark.
