First shot at a Fic. I'm hoping for any sort of a review that would help me refine my writing. I have a few chapters written and I'm really wanting some hard and honest feedback. Will rate the Fic (PG-13) for random violent battles and occasional swearing. The beginning starts off a bit slow, but stick with it, because what I have planned is sure to please.
He followed behind the other students, dimly aware of the tour guide spouting off facts and dates about the cave they were touring. His Abra had both spindly arms wrapped around his neck, head draped across the back of his own. The Abra, like most of its species, was largely lethargic, napping constantly; seeming more like an infant human than the psychic force for which it was named. The boy hiked the sleeping pokemon up to a more secure grip on his back, taking note that he was falling further and further behind the rest of the group.
The cave, like most in Hoenn, was filled with arching passageways and hidden tunnels, luring tourists and treasure seekers from all over the land to the small island where the cave made its home. Granite Cave, was unique in the fact that it was not only just found on the island but burrowed underneath it. Occasional gouts of water forced itself inside and flooded some of the tunnels, but all in all a worthwhile risk for those who wished to learn, and to those who wished to find the rare gems scattered throughout its recesses.
Ever since the adoption agency had placed the boy with his foster family, a successful pokemon doctor duo of husband and wife, he had found himself increasingly more withdrawn. The only enjoyment he ever looked forward to were the days when his new parents were away on business, which was becoming more and more frequent with the advances they made in pokemon restoration. They were kind, they provided, they listened, but he couldn’t connect with them. His parents were long dead, twisted and spirited away by the ghostly hand of death. They had given him his Abra however. He allowed himself a small smile at the thought; he and the pokemon had bonded extremely well over the last few months, becoming inseperable, becoming dependant on one another. The Abra had also lost its parents; his new parents being vague on how it happened, but nevertheless fate brought them together and they were both blessed for it.
The sounds of the tour group were barely audible, they had slipped far behind. Abra tensed.
The psychic pokemon rolled forward across the boy’s shoulder and hovered barely off the ground, a nimbus of black-purple energy glowing in its right hand. The pokemon cocked its head from side to side like a Pidgey, listening. The boy stayed frozen still, feeling his skin break out in chills as his thoughts swayed and teetered, unable to overcome the odd sense of fear that was boiling in his stomach.
They both reacted at the same time. Abra growled, and a sphere of psychic energy arced from its hand and struck a blur of pale cream and green that was dashing towards them. The boy clenched his fists and took a step forward, intending to get a better footing. His foot did not come back down. The blur spun in the air, reflecting the attack Abra had shot back to its source, knocking the Pokemon into its master, hurtling them both to the far wall. Before the impact struck, the boy felt a motherly warm hand grasp the back of his shirt and guide them through the wall, passing through solid granite like it was air. As the boy and his Abra were forced through the wall, he felt the hand drop them into pitch blackness.
His head struck the rocky floor as he rolled, the soft skin on his arms tearing easily on the ground as he rolled to a stop. Abra landed with a dull thump to his left, the pokemon crying out in alarm as the boy began to sob. A soft orb of white sprang into existence above the pokemon’s head, illuminating the immediate area and allowing the boy to focus his eyes. Abra limped towards his master, favoring his left leg. The psychic pokemon’s right leg bore a long gash up the side of its thigh, from which blood freely flowed. They put their arms around each other, Abra leaning on the boy for support. Even though the effort nearly threw both of them back to the ground, the boy swung the injured pokemon onto his back, mind reeling in utter disbelief at the sight that lay before them.
The floor was black as death, black as night, it seemed to reach up and absorb the light hovering above the two of them. An altar of matching color sat on the floor in front of the pair. It was well over twenty feet wide, with odd geometric shapes carved into the front face of it. On top of the altar was a tablet of equal proportions, standing upright, seemingly made of the same material as the rest of the object. Hieroglyphics were carved into the tablet in lines, some the boy recognized as pokemon, others as humans; but as he looked towards the top of the tablet, a jagged chunk was missing. It looked as if it had been roughly cut out using a massive serrated blade.
As the boy and his Abra looked in wonder at the strange object, a small stony flake, glistening slightly in the oily light of the conjured orb, began to skitter across the top of the altar, seemingly of its own accord. As the boy and his pokemon noticed the flake, they stiffened, perceiving a new threat. However, the flake stopped at the edge of the altar, just within reach of the boy. As he breathed out in relief, he took a step closer and stared at the small object. It was roughly about three inches long, and in the rough hewn shape of a diamond. As his breath reached the small flake, it began to glow. A bright neon green light shone from the flake, so bright in its intensity, the boy flung his arm up to shield himself. The small cavern the two found themselves in was illuminated in its entirety. The shapes on the tablet almost seemed to move in the ethereal green light that danced across its surface.
It was just then the boy heard a whisper. It was soft, delicate, even comforting. Other whispers joined the first, and the boy just knew the voices were coming from the flake, and that he wanted to touch it, to envelop himself in those voices, to hold them inside his body. He needed to touch the flake or they would go away, they would leave him and Abra in this darkness forever. He looked over his shoulder at his pokemon, whose small face was unmistakably and utterly terrified. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, and Abra began slowly shaking its head. The whispers began to lose their intensity, began to sound further away. Without a second thought the boy’s arm shot forward and he snatched the flake from the top of the altar.
The boy began to scream…