Story Notes:
I had to re-write this thing. Wolfgang is hopefully more likable, and everyone will be able to experience what he feels during the course of the story. Italics omitted due to invalid formatting.
Archive: Norman Wellshire| Briar Bay Mini-Infirmary| Prolouge
"[Imagination] is a poor sort of memory that only works backwards." --Lewis Carroll
**********
Archive: Norman Wellshire| Briar Bay Mini-Infirmary| Prolouge
Have any of you ever dreamed? Like, dream dreamed? You know, some really crazy experience where you're powerless in your own universe? Where it's perfectly normal for monsters to walk the streets outside of your own apartment, and ghosts and murderers to be out and about, but it's not normal for a sane person like you to exist? You have no weapons, you have no defense. Only your wits and your reflexes can save you; but that's the problem, right? You're just a normal guy living in an abnormal world. You have no reflexes. And so you try to avoid being eaten at all costs, yet you cannot. It happens, and you wake up the next morning sweating because it felt so real.
Try doing that, only in real life.
Sounds crazy, right? I know it does. But it happened to me once. Every ounce of it.
************
'You never know what you have until it's gone'. I'm sure everyone has heard that saying before, some time or another. For the longest time, that saying was stuck in my mind, echoing on repeat endlessly. Before, I would sit and listen to music to chase it away. I found the second I closed eTunes, it would leap back into the bottomless chasm of my brain. I tried focusing all my attention on writing my newest script, but it just kept whispering in the back of my mind. I even went so far as to talk to myself for hours about totally unrelated subjects, trying to get that little voice to go away. None of these worked, and I ended up just sitting down and embracing that small voice in my head. That same saying, over and over I would repeat it day to day. My latest film, 'Numb in Deep Water' was even put on hold because of this stupid nuisance. It was everywhere at once, and I couldn't portray the scene I wanted to. See; I'm a horror film director and it's imperative I have the scene I'm directing in my mind. I have to play it over and over and over and over and over and over to make sure it sticks before I head to the studio, then get my cast members to enact that same scene over and over and over and over and over and over until they can reproduce the scene I had in my mind and then we shoot the scene and one part of the movie is done. This process can take hours, and if I'm not focused... well, you get the point.
Anywho, here I am at my desk, my paws covering my head and my body slouched over in my chair. I can't think. Oh no, not because of the voice. This problem was resolved days ago. I can't think because I can't sleep. I can't sleep because I don't want to dream. My dreams have been... strange. Things that defy the nature of nature, that shouldn't exist. Granted, everything in the dream world probably shouldn't exist in reality, but this is beyond even that. Monsters and demons is what I'm speaking of presently. And not the generic 'I'm going to eat you' monsters that little kids think up. The kind of monsters that inflict wild fear and make you sweat the next morning. See, these monsters were as much alive as I was, and they were actually trying to eat me. In these dreams, I saw 'mon. Different 'mon, actually. One, a Primape. The other, an Arbok. Another a Bibarel and lastly, a Larvitar. It was so vivid, I had trouble sleeping. I looked behind me, and I saw my alarm clock tell me it was five o'clock, which was the time everyone was outside. I'm not a bigtime film director, actually. My stuff would be lucky to get blockbuster status. The most I've ever grossed was around $7.5 million, and half of it went to my crew and publisher. So, I live a rather simple life in the suburb of Bride County, Twilight Glen. I actually live on the continent of Tergedelmys. It's a rather nice continent to live on, but the rules and enforcements are strict, and they like to ban many things the Central deems as 'immoral'. It's divided into 20 Convergences, each having it's own representatives for the monthly governmental Assembly. I recently moved here to settle low, so I don't even know who the representative of our 13th Convergence is, but whomever he or she is they must be a very nice 'mon. Nothing is odd or out of place here. The sun shines every day, the clouds haze the sky over, cubs are playing outside and elderly 'mon get the help the need. The teenagers aren't rowdy, no one's richer than the next man and crime is terribly low. I suppose you could say these factors make Twilight Glen a target for a criminal. Some people around here (cough, next door neighbors, cough) are a bit... wonky. They have secrets no one wants to know. But they're all nice people.
The worst anyone has done was break into the Five N' Dime supermarket about a block from my own house. Even then, they weren't even from around here. I think they came from Zinc County of the 17th Convergence, which is not a very good place to live. Wait: before you say, "well, you've got money! Why don't you help?" It's because I'm generally a very shy person. I donated a lot of money to that Convergence, but it just got guzzled up by the government and put to use in an already nice Convergence somewhere else. I was very PO'd at that fact, and I was about to go and storm the Assembly building... but I don't have the guts for that. I can't even hold another 'mon's gaze for more than a second, so how would one figure I could stand up to a politician? And let me tell you, those governmentals have tongues like serpents. They can tell a believable lie. You say one thing, they can take that and turn it against you. Arguing with them is not an option; they'll slick-talk you out of their office.
As a 'famous person' or a 'celebrity' as I've been called by others, I'm frequently the target for the Central Governmental Economic Assessment Agency's (or the CGEA) harrassment. They attempt to muddle me with Federal jargon, but even an idiot can tell that they're just asking for money. Sometimes I wish they'd just come out and say, "Can we have some money, Wolfgang?" At least I can politefully decline. But, noooooooo they have to come knocking every month. Oh, yes, my name is Wolfgang. Wolfgang Upton, and if you think I'm supposed to have some kind of electric dorky childish personality just because I'm a Raichu, you should stop stereotyping. It was banned in the Tergedelmys Act of Equality 2k20 PCE. No, I'm serious. Oh, and a little inside joke; my name is Wolfgang and I'm not from the 5th Convergence. Don't get it? A remnant of human language found it's way into the 5th Convergence's after the War. It sounds German, folks, German. They speak in the Germanic fashion.
I walked over to the window, placing my paw on the wall near the window and just staring out of it. The cool breeze drifted by my fur and I closed my eyes, murring. My checks also sent crackles of electricity out, too. It was such a nice day. I lived in a beige three story house just on the edge of 84th street, and this allowed me to look down and see the neighborhood. Little 'mon were outside today as always, though something else was different. I could blame it on my sleep deprivation, but I'm pretty sure I was still sane. Instead of the usual Whackbat or Launchball, they were just sitting in a circle talking. Though this wasn't the end of the world, it felt strange just watching them down there chatting. Arlen DuVall, the headstrong Bidoof, was the leader of their clique. Remember when I said people had secrets? Well, I live about a few miles away from Cassius DuVall's hotel. Yes, the Cassius DuVall. The talk show host. Well, something might have been... 'going on' at home between he and his son. Not to say he's a child predator or anything, but Arlen just seems a bit too quiet around adults for me to be comfortable. And, y'know, kids aren't supposed to spill their guts to every adult they see, sure. But Arlen...
I once invited he and his father over for a casual conversation with tea. Yes, I can do that. Anywho, Cassius went to go order premium tea because my store-bought tea wasn't good enough. He's arrogant like that. Since my phone is on the second floor, he had to go upstairs to fetch it. As any normal host would do, I struck up a conversation with Arlen about, y'know, kid stuff. What did you do today? Who's your favorite comic book hero? How's school going? The poor guy just sat quietly and nodded 'yes' or 'no'. He didn't even make eye contact. When I tried to touch him, he screamed and jumped back and Cassius had to come down to comfort him. To be honest, Arlen didn't quite look as comfortable around his dad as he probably should have, but I dismissed it as normal kid behavior.
Diana, the Oddish and the voice of wisdom among the group would come knocking on my door around this time or just wave a leaf up at my window. I would wave back and call down to them and whatnot. Not today. It was as if I was removed from the universe. In a lot of human literature and movies, when someone is removed from their world, it's always foggy and melancholy. This was blatantly not the case, as I could see that the trees were green and the sun was sparkling. Like, seriously, it was the epitome of a nice suburban day. So, I decided to grab life by the horns and see what was happening.
I casually walked to my desk and shut off the bulky computer with the power switch, and bent down to retrieve some headache medicine. The bottle was light in my grip as I fished it out of it's containment and slipped two pills into my paw. I never did like the Prozac-esque look they had; it made them seem as though they contained some type of poison. Nonetheless, I swallowed about $50 of Eni-g'ste's finest and it began working instantly. Why was it so light? Simple. Because I used it so frequently for those voices. It actually worked for a couple hours, but it's advised not to take more than one. I placed the bottle hastily on the desk and quickly stepped out of the room, closing the wooden door behind me. My white collar shirt was on the floor at the entrance to my bedroom (yes, I was not wearing clothes this whole time, it's not a huge issue) and I had to bend down again to pick it up and throw it on. My paws hit the white carpeted stairs with heavy thuds as I finally reached my rather large front door. I swung it open and stepped into the warm air panting, searching for those kids in the street. But... they were gone. Well, Arlen was still there.
"Arlen... where are your friends?" I asked, stepping closer to the boy. My face seemed to show genuine concern, as he turned to me and frowned. I didn't really know what to say to comfort him, so I just pressed on. "Well, you should get out of the street now. Cars might come and hit you." To this, his eyes widened and his frown deepened; I could tell I had scared him. "No, no! I'm not saying a car will hit you! I just..." I stopped, because his expression saddened for some reason, and I could tell that it wasn't my words that made that happen.
"I'd better go home. Father's waiting for me." With that he got out of his cross-legged sitting position and got into a quadrupedal stance. He was probably planning to run back home, but that was at least a mile from here, if DuVall was using his hotel as his main livingspace. I stuck a paw out, telling him to wait.
"I have a car, okay? We can take that to your house." I judged his expression carefully, trying to determine what he was feeling. Either he was keeping it carefully neutral or it didn't matter to him whether he walked or got driven. Since he didn't provide a definitive answer, I walked to my two story garage and pulled out a ring of keys from my shirt pocket. I pressed a gray button on a black gadget hooked to the ring and the white garage doors began rising and a black vehicle was unveiled inside. Now, driving a human car is impossible for a 'mon to do, so all cars worldwide were shrunken to average 'mon size. By average, I mean a Lucario would be tight for space inside of one. Thankfully, I'm actually small enough to fit comfortably inside these cars, and so was Arlen. Hopefully in the future Eni-g'ste will learn how to make better models of post-human technology.
We both climbed into the car at the same time, eliciting a laugh from both of us. My laughter was silly and sincere, though his was a bit nervous and forced. Either way, we managed to have a moment together, and it made me think that perhaps I could actually bond with the boy. We hooked our seatbelts to their holsters and I placed my paws on the wheel. Hopefully this day would end and I can start up a better one tomorrow.
**********
Archive: Norman Wellshire| Briar Bay Mini-Infirmary| Prolouge
Have any of you ever dreamed? Like, dream dreamed? You know, some really crazy experience where you're powerless in your own universe? Where it's perfectly normal for monsters to walk the streets outside of your own apartment, and ghosts and murderers to be out and about, but it's not normal for a sane person like you to exist? You have no weapons, you have no defense. Only your wits and your reflexes can save you; but that's the problem, right? You're just a normal guy living in an abnormal world. You have no reflexes. And so you try to avoid being eaten at all costs, yet you cannot. It happens, and you wake up the next morning sweating because it felt so real.
Try doing that, only in real life.
Sounds crazy, right? I know it does. But it happened to me once. Every ounce of it.
************
'You never know what you have until it's gone'. I'm sure everyone has heard that saying before, some time or another. For the longest time, that saying was stuck in my mind, echoing on repeat endlessly. Before, I would sit and listen to music to chase it away. I found the second I closed eTunes, it would leap back into the bottomless chasm of my brain. I tried focusing all my attention on writing my newest script, but it just kept whispering in the back of my mind. I even went so far as to talk to myself for hours about totally unrelated subjects, trying to get that little voice to go away. None of these worked, and I ended up just sitting down and embracing that small voice in my head. That same saying, over and over I would repeat it day to day. My latest film, 'Numb in Deep Water' was even put on hold because of this stupid nuisance. It was everywhere at once, and I couldn't portray the scene I wanted to. See; I'm a horror film director and it's imperative I have the scene I'm directing in my mind. I have to play it over and over and over and over and over and over to make sure it sticks before I head to the studio, then get my cast members to enact that same scene over and over and over and over and over and over until they can reproduce the scene I had in my mind and then we shoot the scene and one part of the movie is done. This process can take hours, and if I'm not focused... well, you get the point.
Anywho, here I am at my desk, my paws covering my head and my body slouched over in my chair. I can't think. Oh no, not because of the voice. This problem was resolved days ago. I can't think because I can't sleep. I can't sleep because I don't want to dream. My dreams have been... strange. Things that defy the nature of nature, that shouldn't exist. Granted, everything in the dream world probably shouldn't exist in reality, but this is beyond even that. Monsters and demons is what I'm speaking of presently. And not the generic 'I'm going to eat you' monsters that little kids think up. The kind of monsters that inflict wild fear and make you sweat the next morning. See, these monsters were as much alive as I was, and they were actually trying to eat me. In these dreams, I saw 'mon. Different 'mon, actually. One, a Primape. The other, an Arbok. Another a Bibarel and lastly, a Larvitar. It was so vivid, I had trouble sleeping. I looked behind me, and I saw my alarm clock tell me it was five o'clock, which was the time everyone was outside. I'm not a bigtime film director, actually. My stuff would be lucky to get blockbuster status. The most I've ever grossed was around $7.5 million, and half of it went to my crew and publisher. So, I live a rather simple life in the suburb of Bride County, Twilight Glen. I actually live on the continent of Tergedelmys. It's a rather nice continent to live on, but the rules and enforcements are strict, and they like to ban many things the Central deems as 'immoral'. It's divided into 20 Convergences, each having it's own representatives for the monthly governmental Assembly. I recently moved here to settle low, so I don't even know who the representative of our 13th Convergence is, but whomever he or she is they must be a very nice 'mon. Nothing is odd or out of place here. The sun shines every day, the clouds haze the sky over, cubs are playing outside and elderly 'mon get the help the need. The teenagers aren't rowdy, no one's richer than the next man and crime is terribly low. I suppose you could say these factors make Twilight Glen a target for a criminal. Some people around here (cough, next door neighbors, cough) are a bit... wonky. They have secrets no one wants to know. But they're all nice people.
The worst anyone has done was break into the Five N' Dime supermarket about a block from my own house. Even then, they weren't even from around here. I think they came from Zinc County of the 17th Convergence, which is not a very good place to live. Wait: before you say, "well, you've got money! Why don't you help?" It's because I'm generally a very shy person. I donated a lot of money to that Convergence, but it just got guzzled up by the government and put to use in an already nice Convergence somewhere else. I was very PO'd at that fact, and I was about to go and storm the Assembly building... but I don't have the guts for that. I can't even hold another 'mon's gaze for more than a second, so how would one figure I could stand up to a politician? And let me tell you, those governmentals have tongues like serpents. They can tell a believable lie. You say one thing, they can take that and turn it against you. Arguing with them is not an option; they'll slick-talk you out of their office.
As a 'famous person' or a 'celebrity' as I've been called by others, I'm frequently the target for the Central Governmental Economic Assessment Agency's (or the CGEA) harrassment. They attempt to muddle me with Federal jargon, but even an idiot can tell that they're just asking for money. Sometimes I wish they'd just come out and say, "Can we have some money, Wolfgang?" At least I can politefully decline. But, noooooooo they have to come knocking every month. Oh, yes, my name is Wolfgang. Wolfgang Upton, and if you think I'm supposed to have some kind of electric dorky childish personality just because I'm a Raichu, you should stop stereotyping. It was banned in the Tergedelmys Act of Equality 2k20 PCE. No, I'm serious. Oh, and a little inside joke; my name is Wolfgang and I'm not from the 5th Convergence. Don't get it? A remnant of human language found it's way into the 5th Convergence's after the War. It sounds German, folks, German. They speak in the Germanic fashion.
I walked over to the window, placing my paw on the wall near the window and just staring out of it. The cool breeze drifted by my fur and I closed my eyes, murring. My checks also sent crackles of electricity out, too. It was such a nice day. I lived in a beige three story house just on the edge of 84th street, and this allowed me to look down and see the neighborhood. Little 'mon were outside today as always, though something else was different. I could blame it on my sleep deprivation, but I'm pretty sure I was still sane. Instead of the usual Whackbat or Launchball, they were just sitting in a circle talking. Though this wasn't the end of the world, it felt strange just watching them down there chatting. Arlen DuVall, the headstrong Bidoof, was the leader of their clique. Remember when I said people had secrets? Well, I live about a few miles away from Cassius DuVall's hotel. Yes, the Cassius DuVall. The talk show host. Well, something might have been... 'going on' at home between he and his son. Not to say he's a child predator or anything, but Arlen just seems a bit too quiet around adults for me to be comfortable. And, y'know, kids aren't supposed to spill their guts to every adult they see, sure. But Arlen...
I once invited he and his father over for a casual conversation with tea. Yes, I can do that. Anywho, Cassius went to go order premium tea because my store-bought tea wasn't good enough. He's arrogant like that. Since my phone is on the second floor, he had to go upstairs to fetch it. As any normal host would do, I struck up a conversation with Arlen about, y'know, kid stuff. What did you do today? Who's your favorite comic book hero? How's school going? The poor guy just sat quietly and nodded 'yes' or 'no'. He didn't even make eye contact. When I tried to touch him, he screamed and jumped back and Cassius had to come down to comfort him. To be honest, Arlen didn't quite look as comfortable around his dad as he probably should have, but I dismissed it as normal kid behavior.
Diana, the Oddish and the voice of wisdom among the group would come knocking on my door around this time or just wave a leaf up at my window. I would wave back and call down to them and whatnot. Not today. It was as if I was removed from the universe. In a lot of human literature and movies, when someone is removed from their world, it's always foggy and melancholy. This was blatantly not the case, as I could see that the trees were green and the sun was sparkling. Like, seriously, it was the epitome of a nice suburban day. So, I decided to grab life by the horns and see what was happening.
I casually walked to my desk and shut off the bulky computer with the power switch, and bent down to retrieve some headache medicine. The bottle was light in my grip as I fished it out of it's containment and slipped two pills into my paw. I never did like the Prozac-esque look they had; it made them seem as though they contained some type of poison. Nonetheless, I swallowed about $50 of Eni-g'ste's finest and it began working instantly. Why was it so light? Simple. Because I used it so frequently for those voices. It actually worked for a couple hours, but it's advised not to take more than one. I placed the bottle hastily on the desk and quickly stepped out of the room, closing the wooden door behind me. My white collar shirt was on the floor at the entrance to my bedroom (yes, I was not wearing clothes this whole time, it's not a huge issue) and I had to bend down again to pick it up and throw it on. My paws hit the white carpeted stairs with heavy thuds as I finally reached my rather large front door. I swung it open and stepped into the warm air panting, searching for those kids in the street. But... they were gone. Well, Arlen was still there.
"Arlen... where are your friends?" I asked, stepping closer to the boy. My face seemed to show genuine concern, as he turned to me and frowned. I didn't really know what to say to comfort him, so I just pressed on. "Well, you should get out of the street now. Cars might come and hit you." To this, his eyes widened and his frown deepened; I could tell I had scared him. "No, no! I'm not saying a car will hit you! I just..." I stopped, because his expression saddened for some reason, and I could tell that it wasn't my words that made that happen.
"I'd better go home. Father's waiting for me." With that he got out of his cross-legged sitting position and got into a quadrupedal stance. He was probably planning to run back home, but that was at least a mile from here, if DuVall was using his hotel as his main livingspace. I stuck a paw out, telling him to wait.
"I have a car, okay? We can take that to your house." I judged his expression carefully, trying to determine what he was feeling. Either he was keeping it carefully neutral or it didn't matter to him whether he walked or got driven. Since he didn't provide a definitive answer, I walked to my two story garage and pulled out a ring of keys from my shirt pocket. I pressed a gray button on a black gadget hooked to the ring and the white garage doors began rising and a black vehicle was unveiled inside. Now, driving a human car is impossible for a 'mon to do, so all cars worldwide were shrunken to average 'mon size. By average, I mean a Lucario would be tight for space inside of one. Thankfully, I'm actually small enough to fit comfortably inside these cars, and so was Arlen. Hopefully in the future Eni-g'ste will learn how to make better models of post-human technology.
We both climbed into the car at the same time, eliciting a laugh from both of us. My laughter was silly and sincere, though his was a bit nervous and forced. Either way, we managed to have a moment together, and it made me think that perhaps I could actually bond with the boy. We hooked our seatbelts to their holsters and I placed my paws on the wheel. Hopefully this day would end and I can start up a better one tomorrow.