Difference

Warning: This is rather depressing.

Also, this is the first pokemon story that I've done in nearly 3 years, so I can't say it's perfect or even good for that matter.

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Chapter 1 - Bulbasaur


Disclaimer
No, I don't own Pokemon.

Story Summary
Pokemon...we always view them as creatures who serve under humans, fighting in battles, or as friends, close companions, to be protected or to protect you...or simply as wild beings. We've always seen Pokemon as the cute, fluffy pets, or as powerful, fighting machines, or whatever other description you'd give to them. But we've never thought of what they think, what they feel, what they see...after all, aren't Pokemon just like us? Living creatures?

Chapter Summary
Bulbasaur. A simple name. I am the Seed Pokemon. I am a grass-type Pokemon. As a starter, born into captivity, I am the most ridiculed of the three that can be chosen. I am the most despised, looked down upon by others; I have little worth. To those who value strength and power, I am but a mere newborn weakling, incapable of delivering those powerful attacks they seek. To those who value speed, I am but a creature akin to that of an iron ball - slow, heavy, hindering. But some want me, some want to raise me, but those people are who I ask - why? Why do they want me, such a weak creature, incapable of neither strength nor speed?

Author's notes
Yeah, angsty, woo. Haven't written one, which is why I had a lot of trouble with the chapter summary. It’s a bit well...false in some areas, but generally, just put in mind that this is from the Pokemon’s POV. Each chapter will be a different Pokemon, starting from the first Pokemon (Bulbasaur), to the last (Arceus). I will probably not do the 5th generation of Pokemon, as this story was planned BEFORE that came out, but if I have enough requests, I will try.

Bulbasaur
I am a Bulbasaur.

Here I reside, inside a pokeball, or so that's what you humans call it. To us Pokemon, it's merely a cage, something to keep us contained, tame, obedient. With only our thoughts to accompany us within, we are powerless to do anything else. We have no power here - we cannot move, we cannot do anything but think.

Is that all we are to you? Creatures to be controlled and used? You say that you love us, that you care for us, but you make us fight, and you hurt us. You keep us inside cages, trapped inside illusions that we can only see, but not feel or enjoy.

Bulbasaur. A simple name. I am the Seed Pokemon. I am a grass-type Pokemon. As a starter, born into captivity, I am the most ridiculed of the three that can be chosen. I am the most despised, looked down upon by others; I have little worth.

To those who value strength and power, I am but a mere newborn weakling, incapable of delivering those powerful attacks they seek. To those who value speed, I am but a creature akin to that of an iron ball - slow, heavy, hindering. But some want me, some want to raise me, but those people are who I ask - why? Why do they want me, such a weak creature, incapable of neither strength nor speed?

It remains unclear to me.

You send me into battle. You throw the pokeball, and shout, "Go, Bulbasaur! You can do it!"

I can't. But I try anyway.

I stand, in a battle-ready position, ears straining to hear your orders. Then I notice the Pokemon I'm battling.

Charizard. A fire Pokemon. And a powerful one at that.

I cower, and shrink back, but you shout, "Bulbasaur, Vine Whip!"

What good would that do? Even the Charizard and its trainer laughs.

"Fire Blast!"

The Pokemon roars in approval, and I see the burning ball of flame growing in size in its mouth. Death. Doom.

I am not a water Pokemon.

I glance pleadingly at you, but you shake your head. "Sleep Powder," You say softly, as the Charizard builds up its attack. "Then Vine Whip."

I shake in despair, but I follow your order anyway. Spores float out of my bulb, and drift towards the larger Pokemon. The Charizard sneers at me, and flaps its wings, instantly dissipating the cloud of spores, then fires its attack at me.

I look at you, even as the fire consumes me.

Why?

Author's notes
Hopefully that didn't go too badly. I have a feeling I destroyed it again, though. It's probably the shortest thing I've ever written, but it's not meant to be long.