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The story of Cubone, the lonely soldier. WARNING This is graphic, do not read if under 13! |
It all happened in one big blur. It was done. His mother lay in a pile of blood. The cave that surrounded them was dark and dreary. His mother had no chance when Aggron swaggered into their home. He was big, and seemed so much darker than the Aggron he had met before. The skull like armor upon the Aggron’s head had seemed white as snow, and his body more massive than anything he had ever seen before. It was too late for his mother before the fight had even began. The Aggron had done terrible things to her, beating her to a pulp. Her mangled body was a shadow of what it had used to be. The youngling moved closer to the body. He had done his crying, and had mourned for days, nonstop. He didn’t have time to be hungry or thirsty until now. But there was something that he needed to do. Edging closer, the cool wind from the cold dark world beyond whooshed into the already cold cave. Living in the desert always made sure that by night, he and his mother were frozen. Now he was at his mother’s head, he looked into her eyes. They were white, she had always been blind. Everyday, he had told her that her eyes looked like the full moon. He would smile, and say that she wished she could agree, but since she couldn’t see it, she had no way to tell. Now her eyes were not blinking, and looked wide with fear. The skin upon her cranium was pulled back, leaving the top of her skull open to see. The young one knew what he had to do, but was still sick with fear. Blinking, he calmed just ever so slightly, so he could be done with the deed. Reaching forward, his clawed hands touched the hard, white vertex. Pulling it made a soft creaking sound, too odd to describe. With a final ‘pop’ the skull slid out, and the organs contained inside of it slid to the ground. With one last glance at his mother’s petrified gaze, he slid the skull upon his head, despite the red wine it was glazed in. It would always wash off. After doing this, he walked over to his mother’s leg. Toughened by the fact that he was wearing his mother’s skull, he closed his eyes and reached into his mother’s skin without thinking twice. Grabbing his mother’s leg, he tore it out. The sound of ripping flesh echoed against the walls, Zubat that were hanging upon the ceiling flew out in a screeching flurry. The young Pokemon had been named Ground. Now they call him Moon. |