Living in Death [SWC] [Ready for Grading]

WARNING: Story contains: Foul language; ideas about death and suicide; strong(ish) content. Be advised if you have weak constitutions.

Living in Death


Chapter I
Unknown Boy​

A boy stepped off of a bus and observed the scene. Motorbikes zoomed between small cars and buses; their pollution faintly loomed overhead of the lively marketplace. People bustled along the edges of the streets, in and out of open-air market venders. An array of color dazzled the eyes at every stand full of fruits, spices, clothes, and prayer sheets. The lanky and withered boy took in a deep breath; he could smell every curry, the strangely alluring sting of car exhaust, and human activity. The bus that had dropped him off drove off into the sea of motor vehicles leaving him stranded in a desert of faceless people speaking unknown words.

He was the only one different from all the other people; tall, with short golden hair, and shimmering green eyes. His pale skin seemed to glow in the Punjabi sun. Dirt and dust clouds were kicked up from his bare feet as he walked to a vender selling naan bread. He gave a few coins from his ragged shorts, wiped his hands on his equally ragged shirt and took a piece of the special bread.

“Do you speak English?” the boy asked the vender tentatively. The middle aged woman selling the naan did a double take on the boy's face. She was happy to sell some food, but hadn't truly looked at her buyer until now. She nodded slightly as she peered at the boy's gaunt face. Boney and sunken cheeks accentuated his sharp nose and round eyes. He looked helpless and lost until he spoke; his voice vibrated with certainty and confidence.

“Where can I find the future seeing Pokemon?” he asked clearly. She seemed weary to answer. She turned slightly, without looking away from the strange boy, and pointed to her right. The boy turned to see a large and ancient temple peaking above the marketplace about a half mile beyond them. Without saying a word, or any kind of thanks, the boy left; without hesitation he hastened toward the temple through the busy marketplace.

He walked casually through, unafraid of pickpockets, thieves, glass shards and trash on the ground, or intruding on people's personal space; he bumped into and shoved through shoppers and walked through vender's market areas as he continued to keep an eye on the temple and strolled on calmly. When he reached the end of the marketplace he stopped. There was a bank of water, like a mote almost, around the temple. Vegetation covered the white, paved grounds leading up to the crumbling stairs. A large fig tree rose from the middle of the grounds with its canopy rising high against the tower of the temple and its thick vines encompassing the stairs, breaking in the grounds, and ending at the bank.

It was astonishing how definitive the line between the temple and the marketplace was, but even more so on the side perpendicular to it, where the slums met the marketplace. The boy saw shady houses: falling apart, being held up by sticks or concrete blocks, rags for windows, tin sheets for roofs; an ominous scene of poverty and suffrage. He could see people taking shelter in them, trying to live some kind of a life, but most looked ill or with dampened spirits. It was a hard sight, but the boy turned his attention back to the massive temple unaffected.

He walked on a stone bridge over the water that was covered with the vines from the fig tree. There were no other people on the temple grounds; the only visible ones were shadow figures in the marketplace walking by, or in the slums, suffering. The boy took to the stairs with an exited rush. When he reached the top he rapped on the wooden double doors while taking a few catching breaths.

After a few moments had passed he heard metal clinking as someone was fiddling with the locks. And then, with a low and rumbling creek, one of the doors open slightly. A small creature greeted the boy behind the door; mustard yellow with large coned ears and a snout, it stood on strange split toed feet and wore orange robes and a wooden beaded necklace. The boy could see a tail protruding from behind the creature; he was not expecting a Pokemon to answer the door.

“Yes?” The Abra said quietly. The boy recoiled back to the present taking his eyes off of the Abra's tail and onto its slit eyes.

“I'm here to speak with the future seeing Pokemon.” The boy replied. He wondered if the Abra could see him through such squinted eyes or not, but he still made no attempt to show weakness or second thoughts; he stood with confidence, feet apart and arms crossed to show he really meant what he said.

“What a strange request...” the Abra said without moving from his place. “Not many people say that.”

“May I see them then?” the boy retorted impatiently.

“Of course you may, this way please.” the Abra replied opening the door further into the stone temple. He gestured the boy in and he followed, entering a corridor of crippled stone that was illuminated yellow by torches aligning the halls. The Abra closed and locked the door behind him and started walking down the hall.

The boy trailed behind as they passed stone busts of old Alakazams, monks, and Medichams carved into small enclaves in the walls. They walked silently in the still halls as a soothing scent of incense started growing. Soon the boy felt like he was swimming in a pool of smokey lilies and lavender as the incense became thick; it seemed to grease itself onto the boy's skin and hair. For a brief moment he thought he saw himself as one of the busts carved in the walls, but passed it off as an illusion from the firelight along with the smoke and thick scent obscuring his vision. He pressed on, following the Abra until they reached another pair of large wooden doors.

In front of the doors was a small, white and blue monkey Pokemon sweeping the floor with a broom. It seemed useless to sweep the floor as the entire temple had a permanent coat of dust. To the boy, the Meditite sweeping seemed to be like a Caucus Race: a lot of work with no end in sight for little or no reason at all. But the Meditite was sweeping determinately, vigorous in the pursuit of cleanliness even though it itself was dusty and dirty, more than likely adding dirt with every stroke of the broom to the floor.

“Pardon us, Mowgli, we need to see Theta.” The Abra said as they approached. Mowgli kept his eyes on the ground, but moved a few paced away from the door, sweeping as he went. The Abra grabbed one of the circle handles and opened one of the doors; looking at the boy he gestured toward the room. The boy walked in nervously.

The room was swirling with incense smoke, all that was visible were parts of the stone floor, a few candles in enclaves in the side walls, and the edge of a large plum and gold colored rug covered with stacks of lavish pillows that disappeared into the void. For a moment the boy wanted to turn back, but he heard the door close behind him and knew the Abra had left him alone in this room with whatever was in the smoke.

He waited, standing there sweating in the blurred candle light trying to see beyond the smoke. Images started to appear as his eyes became focused to his new surroundings. He could make out the sources of the smoke as he noticed that wooden desks aligned the sides of the room, all adorned with incense holders; some of them had ornate holes with smoke pouring out, while others held up burning sticks. The candles behind him and to his side seemed to dim as the candles in the back grew in flame; in doing so illuminating different parts of the room as other images became clear.

The boy could now make out the back wall as the sources of light grew from behind the cloud. An enormous gong hung from the ceiling covering most of the carvings done to the back wall. The gong chimed softly, but its enormity made its reverberations thunder throughout the boy's body and down to his center. Eyes dilated and palms clammy, he could now make out a silhouette of something sitting on top of the mountain of pillows in the center of the room.

“Hello?” he called out finally. His voice was shaken and forcibly hushed; he cleared his throat to lubricate his vocal cords and repeated his greeting, “Hello-”

“Come in.” Boomed a monstrous voice. It was ragged, deep, and commanding and it shook the boy's bones just as the gong had shook his center. The boy stood in petrified fear. He knew there was no way back, not because the Abra closed the door behind him, but because there was, in his mind, no where else to go. Through sheer will he broke his stance and stepped forward, keeping his eyes latched on the strange outline of the creature on the pillows. As he moved forward the darkened figure's silhouette started to sharpen. The smoke parted slightly until he could see the outline of the figure clearly.

Resting tenderly on its four legs on top a decorated pillow, the creature sat with a long neck that held its head high and straight. It had a large nose and two bulbous horns that mushroomed from its head like antennae between two ears. The boy couldn't quite see its face and he was about to speak, but the creature spoke before him; its voice came from all around him, even though the creature's mouth was still.

“Welcome to the Temple of Brahimada, Michael.” Each word was enunciated perfectly in the low growl. Paranoia filled Michael's heart, evacuating the fear that had swollen it prior. He swallowed the lump in his throat while staring at the creature without blinking.

“How do you know my name?” Michael mustered to say.

“Because,” the creature started to say as it lowered its jaw to face Michael; it's eyes flashed open with gleaming white, “I've seen you Michael.” Then, to Michael's awe and horror, a third eye bulged opened on the creature's forehead. “I see all.”

 

Chapter 2
Questions​

Michael could feel his blood pulsating through his body, juxtaposed to his muscles and bones that remained still. Albeit intimidated by the voice and mystified by the third eye, Michael was able to muster courage from being so close to his goal.

“So you can see the future?” he asked. The creature nodded it's head curtly. Michael's excitement wrapped around his heart with every beat. “So you know my future?” he asked again.

“I have known you and I have seen you, all throughout the ages.” The creature boomed. Michael thought about the answer for a moment, but decided to take the answer as a 'yes'. Michael swallowed a lump in his throat and relaxed a bit before finding words for his next inquiry.

“I have come to find you to ask you a question.” Michael waited a moment for a response, but the creature did not stir nor speak. Michael searched for more words; looking away and taking a deep breath he let the words find themselves as he started to speak again.

“I want to know how I will die.” He had done it. He had found the future seeing Pokemon and gave it the inquiry he so desired.

Silence. Nothing happened. Michael looked up at the fogged creature who was still staring at him with its three glowing eyes.

“Why do you not want to know when you will die?” The creature asked, it's words echoing off of the walls. Michael, after giving a frustrated sigh, responded,

“I know I will die soon. Very soon actually. So it's not a matter of when, as it's been determined already that that day will be coming to me before I know it. I want to know how it will happen.”

“Death is busy these days. Yet its avid determination for beauty and the beyond keep its patients in check. It understands its work and its importance; do not be fooled by its lingering, its stillness, the haunting yet glorified loom it yields on all mortal creatures. But understand it. Death will find you on a day it desires; its ways are always just and be it expected or not, one must always respond respectfully and understand its opposite.”

Time passed. The words had drown Michael's senses and floated in his thoughts. They were deep and complex, things Michael hadn't wished for, but he knew the answer wasn't in there. He pondered on them for a moment, not on the meaning of the words, but on weather he should ponder on them or rephrase his question at hand. Before the silence between them hung any longer Michael sought out his question further.

“But I do-” one of the doors to the room opened abruptly and the Abra stepped in. Michael, cut off mid-speech, turned around as the Abra gestured for him to leave. He looked back at the creature that seemed to fade into the smoke along with the candle light; its eyes had shut and was peaceful in the way it sat.

Michael sighed in disappointment as he walked back toward the hallway. The Abra shut the door behind him with an echoing close. He looked up at Michael with content as he said,

“I believe I have not introduced myself to you yet Michael.” He bowed respectfully as he continued saying, “My name is Guru Laghima. If you will fallow me to your quarters.”

“My quarters?” Michael asked astonishingly.

“Why yes. It's almost nightfall and you'll be needing a place to rest. Mowgli has already cleaned your new room and has it ready for your residence. Please come with me.” Laghima said as they started walking down the hallway.

After a short while they reached a small room with a stone bed and an open aired window. Lavender silk curtains danced solemnly in the breeze to the starry night outside; they seemed to whisper sweetly into nothingness over the cushioned bed.

“You seem tired from your travels, Michael.” Laghima said as he started to shut the door. “Sleep well.” And with that Guru Laghima left Michael in his dark room.

He looked around. Nothing was there but him, the bed, and the curtains. He had nothing as nothing was there. It was a strange contrast to what he was used to. In his old room back home, he had lots of things: posters, desks, a television, game consoles, postcards, pictures, nick-knacks, etc. Michael never felt alone in his room before, even when he was; this room, however, was so small and had so little that he felt small himself, that the world had been closing in on him only to stop at just enough room for him to lie down and sleep. And so he did.

He lied there on his bed swimming in his jet-lagged thoughts. He had envisioned meeting the future seeing Pokemon, it telling him how he would die, then dying soon after. But now he had no answer, or at least he had a convoluted one that needed deciphering. Michael rolled his eyes at his thoughts; he was in no mood to think hard about how he will die, he simply wanted a straight forward answer and be done. Nice. Efficient. Timely. He will ask the creature again tomorrow and hope for a better answer.

His eyelids grew in weight as the breeze coddled him. Michael could feel the luxurious lands of sleep luring him in with little resistance until he finally gave and his muscles finally relaxed.

The sound of birds twittering and leaves rustling in the daybreak woke Michael from his sleep. He sat up and looked outside his window. One of the fig trees branches partially obscured his vision of the slums below. He looked more into the tree and saw Guru Laghima meditating on a platform like area on the branches. Michael thought this would be a good time to go see Theta, the future seeing Pokemon.

He stood up from his bed, which he slept on fairly well, better than anticipated. Stretched, yawned, and dusted off, Michael left his room and walked the halls. He approached the wooden doors that entered to the chamber of the future seeing Pokemon, grabbed the metal rings and pulled. But the did not budge.

Michael's heart sank a bit. He tugged harder with all the weight of his strained body, but the doors did nothing. Michael felt more weak than disappointed. His stomach churned air and growled at him, but he did nothing in response.

He decided to left the temple and climb the fig tree to join Guru Laghima. When he reached the platform-like area the branches made he looked out to view the city. It was massive and stretched for miles; some areas were more developed than others, but most of the city was a large slum with pockets of marketplaces and vendors. Strangely though, he could not make out any people, not even shadows.

“Good morning Michael.” Laghima said without moving.

“The doors to the future seeing Pokemon are locked.” Michael replied as he turned to see the Guru cross-legged and arms in the air.

“Ah. I expected you would try to question Theta again.” Laghima replied.

“So you locked the doors?” Michael sounded angry, he was letting his impatience get to him. Laghima didn't reply right away. He stayed still; the tone of anger in Michael's voice now reverberated a bit of shame in him and he felt apologetic.

“I wish to ask you some questions now, Michael. If I may.” Laghima asked breaking the awkwardness.

“Oh... Uhm. Sure.” Michael said looking around for a good place to sit. He finally sat as he noticed a large grouping of figs near him.

“Please eat some fruit Michael, you look emaciated.” Laghima said, still not moving. Michael could feel his stomach turn in anger at the sight of the figs and his skin tighten around his ribs. He truly was in poor health, but had been worse. Michael picked up a fig, examined it momentarily, then started to eat. The juices and pulp soothed his monstrous stomach as he continued to eat.

“Now then, I want you to tell me why you came here to Temple Brahimada.” Laghima said as Michael took a big swallow of mashed fig.

“To ask the future seeing Pokemon how I will die.” Michael retorted; repeating himself was not something he liked to do.

“No,” Laghima said turning his head to face Michael, “why do wish to know this, why did you come to this temple, why are you truly here?”

Chapter 3
Responses​

Michael paused in the middle of eating his second fig. He thought about his response until he swallowed the fruit and replied,

“I don't want to talk about it. I'm here to find out about my death is all.”

“Death is our lot, Michael, it is everyone's lot. We can, or cannot talk about it, but alas it comes to us anyway. If you are so keen to find your path of death then so be it, but cherry picking the parts of knowledge we wish to have eludes us from the truth. It gives us an illusion of what death is truly like. We cannot fully understand it unless we ask all the right questions leading us to an evidential answer that may or may not have already been.”

Guru Laghima had returned to his meditative posture during his answer. A peacock flew overhead them as Michael processed the answer.

“So I might die before I find out how?”

“Quite possibly.” Laghima replied. Michael wrinkled his eyebrows. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes in disgust as he said,

“This is way too much drama than I had expected.”

Laghima laughed and broke from his sitting position to catch himself from falling over.

“Oh hahaha, you're life is not a drama, Michael, it's a tragedy!”

Laghima continued laughing while Michael looked offended. He didn't know what Laghima meant, but laughing at him and calling him tragic was not something Michael thought would be humorous.

“What do you mean?!” Michael demanded. Laghima wiped a tear from one of his slit eyes and sat back up.

“Michael, in a drama the character has a chance to live, to make a difference, but in a tragedy the character knows they will die and they do die! You will die and you know you will, so this is not a drama. This is a tragedy!”

Michael looked at Laghima, but no longer with hurt feelings, he thought about what he said and simply accepted he was not being made fun of.

“So,” Laghima said as he calmed and recoiled back into a meditative position, “tell me why you came here.” Michael sighed as he thought.

“Where do I start?” He asked out loud.

“The beginning is usually a good place.” Laghima replied to Michael's dislike.

“Well...” Michael started as he began to remember the occurrences of the year prior. “I had been living in a hospital for a long time as a cancer patient. It was bad and I knew it was bad by the way the doctors spoke about it. They tried to use everything they had: chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, new methods. Nothing seemed to work. They gave me a few months to live, explaining I'd most likely go into a coma before completely dying. I told them if I were to reach that point to just let me go.

“A couple months later I had withered to almost nothing from not eating due to the intense chemotherapy. They had me on a different therapy almost every week, but none had really worked so far. I had been on this new chemo for a few days when I lied down to go to sleep. It was amazing how wonderful death felt at that moment. I knew as I was shutting my eyes that I would not wake up the next morning and I welcomed the sweet bliss of chilling death that awaited me. Unfortunately I awoke the next day. The doctors took my blood and ran it through the lab that morning and in the afternoon they came back with the news.

“My cancer cells were dying off fast; they thought it was from the slur of clinical and aggressive chemotherapy they had been giving me. Less than a week later I was completely cancer free. They thought it was a miracle and that I would survive, but I knew they were wrong. I had already accepted death and knew I was going to die, if not from cancer, from something else.

“I had a nurse from India who would tell us stories at night when we were in too much pain to sleep. One of the stories was about a mystical Pokemon in Punjab India that was the reincarnation of an ancient god that could see the future. So I left the hospital without telling anyone, bought some cheap clothes from the Goodwill nearby, and went to the airport to buy a ticket to the next flight to India.”

A tear trickled down Michael's cheek as he recounted his story. Guru Laghima remained silent for many moments. Michael wiped the tear from his face as he sniffed loudly; he thought it petty to cry over death. He held his emotions down and his head high as to topple the sadness that tried to grow.

“So you've accepted death?” Laghima asked tentatively. Michael nodded. Laghima took another pause before speaking. “And now without cancer you are unsure how death will find you?” Michael took a moment to analyze the way Laghima said it, but agreed and nodded again.

“Dear child,” Laghima started to say. He turned his head to face Michael with a happy, if not humorous smile as he said, “you're grieving”

“What?” Michael replied in confusion. “How am I, or what am I grieving?”

“You've accepted death as your true state of being, and then you were suppose to have died but you lived, so you're grieving over not your own death, but your life, or you living. Your grief comes from the second life bestowed upon you; you grieve over the ending of your previous life and are confused about your current state of being because you've accepted death as your current state of being.”

Michael was flabbergasted at these words. How could he be grieving? One grieves when one has lost something, but he hadn't lost something, if anything he's gained something.

“No...” He said under his breath.

“You need to grieve your loss of death and accept you place in life. Realize life's virtues and gifts and rejoice in its splendor and sacredness.” Laghima said.

“No.” Michael repeated a bit louder. The more and louder he said it, the more definitive it was in his mind. “No!” He jetted up, now angry with Guru Laghima for telling him these falsifications. “That's absurd! It doesn't make any sense. I'm not going to stick around for this any more!” Michael climbed down the tree in haste, frightening off the peacock that was making the tree its momentary home.

Michael stormed up the stairs to the temple and blasted open the doors. He walked with anger in each foot until he twisted around a corner and almost ran into Mowgli the Meditite. Mowgli was cleaning the hallway, and fairly poorly too. Michael halted to a stop and he looked at the Meditite intensely. Mowgli stopped sweeping the floor and starred back at Michael. He felt like there was some kind of special bond between them, not like they knew each other, or were friendly, but some special force kept the two silent and frozen for a long moment.

Michael broke the stillness by asking,

“Is it so crazy that I want to die?” Mowgli did not respond immediately, but waited for a few seconds before slowly shaking his head. Michael had just now realized that Mowgli had a red dot on his forehead, right where Theta's third eye was on its forehead.

“Can you see the future too?” Michael asked while looking at the red dot. Mowgli, again, shook his head slowly.

“So you can't tell me how I will die?” Michael was calming down, but still irate about not having his question answered. Mowgli slowly shook his head a third time.

“Do you know how I can find out?” Michael exclaimed in frustration now. Mowgli, this time, nodded slowly. Michael's heart fluttered as he asked desperately, “How?!” Mowgli turned without taking his eyes off of Michael and pointed to the large, wooden double doors down the end of the hall that lead to Theta's room.

Michael waited a moment; he thought that maybe it would still be locked. He moved passed Mowgli in a procession towards the doors. When he reached them he took hold of the handles and lurched them forward. Surprisingly they opened to the dark and smokey room. Michael entered and the doors shut themselves behind him as the darkness weaned on the few lit candles.

“Theta?” Michael asked unsure if was suppose to be I there at that moment. No reply came, he couldn't see past the smoke like last time, nor could he see any glowing three eyes either. Michael decided to put some force behind his voice as he said,

“Theta, I know you're in this room! Now please, answer me! How will I die?!”

Chapter 4​

A Deal; a Sought Virtue​

“Denial is a powerful force, Michael.” The monstrous voice boomed so suddenly and vehemently that it shook the entire room and about knocked Michael off of his own two feet. “Do not let it consume nor control you.” Michael steadied himself on his feet as he heard these words. He was so frustrated from these Pokemon avoiding his question.

“Please Theta! I just want to know!” Michael burst out, no longer able to contain his frustration, “Why is this so difficult to get across. Please, just tell me how! I'll do anything, anything you want! I'll go on a pilgrimage, or spread your name, or worship you like a god, I don't care! Just please, tell me how I will die, I want to know, I need to know how! I'll do anything!”

“Silence!” Theta's voice thundered. Michael was letting tears hit the ground as he shook on spot. He waited for Theta to continue, but he dared not move or say another word.

“I will consider telling you your wish if you make me a promise.” Theta's voice said. Suddenly, all the darkness became soothing and Michael's desperation was matched with enthusiasm.

“Yes, what do you want me to do?!” Michael exclaimed with glee.

“Live with the monks here at Brahimada. Do as they do daily, and after some time come back to me.”

Michael was ecstatic, he would finally get to know how he would die, only after a short period living with Mowgli and Laghima. It wasn't ideal, but it was definitely doable.

“Okay. Thank you Theta, thank you so much!”

“Leave.” Bellowed Theta's voice as the doors to the room wrapped open. Fear sank back into to Michael as this invitation to part was more than a bit hostile. Without a word Michael left, walking backwards to the hallway. He watched as the glowing three eyes from Theta opened in an unamused stare. Then, as Michael passed the doorway, the wooden slabs shut with an echoing slam.

Michael turned around to see Mowgli, looking right at him. Unmoved by the echo, unwilled by the awkwardness, and unperturbed by Michael's endeavors Mowgli stood. His eyes were mysterious and clouded in a fog; they seemed to whisper alluring sounds, like sirens calling sailors to their deaths.

Without a word, or a scratch of a sound, Michael turned and left down the other corridor to his bedroom. He found it as empty as before. Breathing silently and heart beating calmly Michael sat on his bed. His question would soon be answered and his end would surely come. He had only to live with the monks for a while and then he would be set free from his mortal coil.

Chapter 5​

Insight; Mowgli's Devotion​

Michael was out early in the morning to drink some water by the mote then gather some figs from the tree as breakfast. He was in a much more pleasant mood than days prior as he knew his endgame was in sight. After living with the monks for a short period he would find out how he would die from Theta and then rightly so, go and die. Simple. Death had seemed so far away since he had been cured from cancer, but now it seem so close he could feel its chill everywhere he went.

As he picked figs he noticed Mowgli in the tree with him; he was meditating with his legs crossed and hands in a meditative position. Michael didn't want to disturb him, but Mowgli did intrigue him slightly as he hadn't said a word since Michael arrived. He quietly left Mowgli to his meditation and returned to the temple. They day moved on.

Michael walked along the incense filled halls admiring the busts of other gurus and priests of the temple. Pokemon and people filled each enclave with a mysterious aura that seemed to be as thick as the incense. Michael stopped at a carving titled “Guru Patil”. It was a darker colored Alakazam with a dot on its forehead, much like Mowgli's, its eyes were shut as if asleep, and adorned a large, long bead that stretched to the end of the bust.

Michael stood there, eating his fig, admiring the craftsmanship of the piece until-

“Good morning, Michael.”

Michael jumped in a start as Guru Laghima smiled behind him.

“Oh... Good morning.” Michael paused for a moment before contemplating his next question.

“Say, Guru Laghima... how does one become a 'guru'?”

Laghima smiled at the question as he responded,

“Oh, many ways. I may not seem to be as old as I am because I have never evolved, but I refuse to evolve unlike many other gurus of this temple. Many of them believed they needed to evolve to become more spiritually enlightened, or that their new found power would make it easier, if not better, to reach Nirvana, or understand the universe. I reject that view, however, and believe one does not have to evolve to become more cognizant with the cosmos.

“In fact, I believe that evolving impedes on that goal. When a Pokemon evolves we gain an exponential amount of power, and if power clouds our minds and tethers us to this world, the more of it, the more difficult it is to understand the beyond.” Guru Laghima gestured to the statue as he continued,

“Guru Patil here sought enlightenment by taking a silent vow. From the moment he entered this temple to the day he died he said nothing. He was meticulous on keeping himself busy and was an extremely wise man, but he never spoke a word. Such discipline, he thought, by sacrificing one of life's underrated gifts would he find solitude in the afterlife. He was a wonderful spiritual leader in his time, one so that many take after him. Like young Mowgli; he has taken a vow of silence if you hadn't noticed, so that he may be closer to being enlightened.”

Michael had no idea what to say next. The devotion and dedication these Pokemon give into understanding the cosmos was impressive. Michael may not completely agree with their believes, but he respected the gravity of discipline it took to keep from evolving or never speaking a word.

“Thank you.” Michael said to Laghima as he walked away. He had just realized after parting that that was the first time he said thank you to any of them in the temple and shame started to pour into his stomach. They had let him in, fed him, gave him shelter, all without asking or doing favors. They simply welcomed him as if he were one of them from the first day, and until now has he said anything remotely polite or thankful.

He felt the shame weigh on him heavily, but knew how he could make it up: he was going to do as they did and do it right. He would abide by their laws and do as they did until Theta told him how he would die. It would only be right to give back what they gave him before his death.

Michael stepped outside into the crisping air of evening. He saw Mowgli over by some roots of the fig tree by the water's edge. Stepping over the roots that clung to the steps, Michael climbed down and reached were Mowgli sat. Mowgli rested by the water in between two large roots, enough space for both of them to sit comfortably. He was staring out onto the still water. Michael sat next to him and said,

“Mowgli?” No response; Mowgli didn't even move. “Mowgli... can you tell me why you wish to be enlightened and have taken a vow of silence?” Mowgli continued to sit, staring at the water.

Michael leaned in to see where Mowgli was staring at; he then gave up and asked, “What are you looking at?”

Without a response Michael searched again for something. He had just then noticed that water was so still it acted as a mirror to the sky. It was extraordinary, simply breathtaking. The entire sky was glistening in the golden rays of the evening sun, illuminating every cotton fluffed cloud gold with dark shadows for contrast. It was a view that belonged in the Louvre. The water shimmered in the reflected gold that seemed endless in its euphoric aptitude for beauty.

Mowgli turned to the tear-swollen eyes of a Michael in awe. Michael matched Mowgli's gaze, but was moved by the swirling greens and blues that illuminated Mowgli's eyes. Then, at the sound of a distant gong, Mowgli's eyes seemed to magnify and Michael fell in with a swooping dive.

Michael did not tumble or fear the fall, but flew luxuriously through the darkness of the mystical plane. Stars appeared in glittering blue as music strung on a harp from the void. The stars created shapes of creatures: hippos, Arcanines, schools of fish, groups of Monfernos, forests of Trevenants, and little tiny gnats. They swirled into view, all interacting and dissipating. Some fish were eaten by sharks, some sharks were eaten by giant squids that then decayed into a flourish of krill and flowers.

Soon the blue stars became a mesh of dancing light, incomprehensible to be anything but random dots. As chaotic as they had become, they resolved mystifyingly into create a picture of Michael's mother holding his discarded hospital gown, sobbing lightly. She did not look saddened, depressed, nor irate, but instead was lost.

“In an ear before man,” a voice bellowed out from the void as the blue stars broke their picture and swirled again, “in a time before you, all life was simple as not cognitive enough to contemplate its' own existence. From the mightiest of beasts, to the tiniest of gnats, life quarreled not with its' existentialism, but rather understood life as its basics.” The stars realigned themselves to create an enormous Girafarig sitting and facing Michael with two bright eyes. The booming voice continued,

“To question death, accept it, or welcome it is just a feudal as questioning life, revering it only, and discarding death. We are all mortal, death is our lot, but do not be fooled by our linguistic ways of differentiation; they are the same. A higher comprehension will allow you to see this,” the blue stars around the Girafarig's forehead started to illuminate brighter as a third eye opened, “as true sight sees beyond the mortal vanity of words and into a plane of understanding without earthly ties. Once you have come to appreciate this ideal, you will have your answer.”

The blue figure of Theta dissipated into the void. The darkness and the world around it seemed to fall as Michael felt his head soar upward, looking up at the void's black top. The blackness seemed to get brighter until he stopped moving. The black void now had a navy blue hue with dazzling red, yellow, purple, and white stars slowly dotting the darkness away. After a few blinks Michael realized he was staring at the night sky with his head resting on one of the vines.

Michael sat up and turned to see Mowgli meditating over the dark waters. His middle finger and thumb were encircled while the rest of his fingers rested upward. Eyes closed and feet crossed, Mowgli seemed at peace; it was befuddling how he was floating above the water, but it was an amazing sight as the water reflected the enthralling sky above.

Michael stood, and without a word, returned to the temple. He reached his quarters and lied in his bed. With his mind a blur of nothing he closed his eyes; sleep came to him faster than ever before, and hushed his room with a silent calm.

 

Chapter 6​

The Awakening​

Michael woke up to the birds twittering cautiously, and the sun overcasted by ominous clouds. He sat up and appreciated the outside view of the slums and temple grounds. Scratching a now ragged and dirty blond beard, the lanky boy stood up. His once cancer-like buzz cut was replaced by a full head of bushy, golden hair. Michael had not seen his reflection since the plane, and was content on not seeing it as his physical appearance meant so little to him.

He continued to wear his withered clothes and proceeded to bathe in them in the mote. While drying, Michael went to the fig tree, meditated for a while, and then grabbed some figs to eat. It was another simple morning that he endured; one that has passed many times in the few weeks. Michael had lost track of how long he had been there, but knew it was around four to six weeks time.

In the entirety of time between his vision and now, he hadn't spoken a word, taking on his own vow of silence. It was difficult at first, but the serenity it gave him was so opulent; it seemed to free him from most of his worries and made meditation easier.

He smiled at Guru Laghima, whose heart was almost weightless, smiled back in a comforting nod. Michael picked up a broom he had made from a branch and leaves off of the fig tree and swept the corridors along with Mowgli.

Every now and then he thought of the vision where his mother appeared, but would move it from his mind and meditate on other things. He would catch himself starting to fall into thought while he swept and would recoil back to the physical plane to mend his focus. This had been his day for a long while now, and while it wasn't the most exciting, nor what he desired most, it was simple, content, and enduring.

Michael continued sweeping until his broom hit Mowgli's. Mowgli had stopped sweeping and was staring at Michael. Michael stared back in anticipation. They did nothing but look at each other. Michael thought he might have another vision, but instead Mowgli turned to his side, unblocking the view from behind him. Without knowing it, Michael and he had been sweeping the hallway in front of Theta's chamber. The doors of which, were propped open, welcoming Michael into the somber room.

Michael looked back at Mowgli and point at himself in question. Mowgli nodded slowly and turned to face the room. As he did so, Mowgli closed his eyes and bowed softly, staying bent as Michael started walking forward.

He entered the beclouded room as the scent of sandalwood and poppies stung his nostrils. The doors creaked shut leaving Michael frozen in a sea of darkness. Candles flared up beside him dimly as the back candles erupted brightly.

“Michael...” Theta's voice boomed across the room as its silhouette became visible. The massive gong behind him sounded and vibrated Michael's bones harmonizing terrifyingly with the thunder that cracked from outside. The two main eyes of Theta opened with a flash, looking at Michael, watching, waiting. Michael swallowed a nervous lump that had resided on the back of his throat since he entered. Theta's monstrous voice echoed from the walls again,

“I see you have taken a vow of silence.” Michael nodded, hoping Theta could see him. “I have also seen that you have lived with the monks here and have done well in trying to understand them and their ways.” Michael again nodded and started to feel excitement rush through him. He had just remembered their deal.

He fiddled with his fingers as they dripped sweat. With every breath he exhaled he could taste the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. Heart pounding, eyes wide open, pupils dilated; Michael could hardly hold onto himself. He bit his bottom lip and listened to Theta.

“I have looked into the cosmos and have seen your death.” Tension coiled in Michael's abdomen. Random muscles were now firing off in his peak of want for knowledge. The answer, the few formidable words that would send his being into the beyond were just a few moments away. Theta continued,

“I have seen you die many times; watched it tentatively and precariously. Through your dedication to a vow of silence, and willingness to live the life of a monk, I am proud. But your understanding of death has yet to change, and therefore I will not grant you the knowledge of how you will die.”

Michael had stopped moving altogether. His heart sank so far it was as if the pit in his stomach had swallowed it, arteries and all. The room swam with swirling silence; Theta's eyes closed leaving Michael even further into the darkness. He couldn't believe it, he had been played, or swindled, or something. Michael had no idea how to react, or what to do; he had no advice, nothing to show him the way, he was completely gone in the world, yet still living. His lip had broken free of his teeth and he could feel a stirring in his throat.

“...what...” The word slipped out. His silence had been broken, a silence that he had kept, not for a very long period of time in retrospect to time itself, but in terms of spiritual enlightenment, Michael felt like his entire time devoted to reaching his answer had been in silence.

But it was broken, nothing to fix it, or bring the word back; it had been said and was out, floating around in the room like a demon sucking energy from its possession victim.

“What.” Michael said more pronounced. He broke his stance and looked around for anything, literally, anything to show him he was dreaming or in some kind of strange dimension. He shot his head back to look at where Theta was as he repeated more forcefully,

“What?!” He was robbed, he was irritated. Anger swelled in him like nothing had before. He was angry at Theta, angry at his doctors, at his cancer, he was furious with his situation and then bellowed out,

“WHAT!?” He started panicking. He fell to his knees with arms flailing with unsured control. “You won't... TELL ME?!” His voice scratch under the strain. “I've been wasting my time here- I- I don't- wha-” semi-words escaped him in muffled exclamations from his voluminous rage. “You told me you would- I've been doing nothing- I should've died... MONTHS ago- why haven't I died yet- why- just- just tell me- HOW WILL I DIE?!”

“Eventually, you will find your answer.” Theta's voice said in a final hush.

“Fffffuuuuaaaahhhhh!” Michael screamed out in agonizing anger.

Veins erupted from his body; muscles tightened so hard they felt like they were going to tear the skin off of him. Before he knew what he was doing he was running through the halls. He tore through the doors to the temple; thunder from the clouds boomed with the slamming of the doors. Michael yelled out in fury to the heavens as he clawed his shirt, tearing part of the collar. Tears were indistinguishable from the rain drops that toppled onto Michael.

He ran down the steps on the temple in a convulsive sob leaping over roots and dashing over the bridge. Michael entered the square to the outdoor shops and buildings that surrounded them. Thunder cracked as lightning flash over one of the buildings sending shock waves around the deserted marketplace. Michael leapt at the sound of the violent force, but it gave him an idea. He searched around some of the buildings until he found one made of dirt and concrete with pegs jetting out from the side.

Michael scaled the side of the building using the pegs as the storm turn turbulent. Rain drilled into Michael's skin, lightning would light up the sky every few moments as thunder rebounded around the buildings in a chorus of slamming drums. Another crackled-boom rocked Michael as he continued to climb until he reached the roof.

He lifted himself up and realized he unknowingly picked one of the tallest buildings in the area. It was a magnificent sight to see almost the entire city squabbling beneath the storm. Lightning pierced the heavens again as thunder exploded from within.

“Lord, oh God!” Michael screamed to the volatile heavens. Michael had enough as he rasped, “Take me! Do it! Just kill me!” Tears ran from his eyes along with raindrops so fluidly they ran like a stream. “I give up! I just give- up! I can't do this game anymore, so just do it already!” Lightning struck a building a few hundred yards away from with a deafening boom of thunder.

“No! Strike ME with lightning! Smite me! Do it, just do it! I'm tired of this, I don't care about the how anymore, or the when! Just hit me with lightning! Do it now!-” Lightning struck another building top nearby; the thunder knocked Michael off of his feet. He got back up as he screamed to the sky, “WHY?!” He ended with a sob. “Why do you let me live?! I've already accepted death! I've felt it's beckoning, it's going to happen, why draw it out?! Just do it!” Lightning flashed again, closer, but it did not hit anything. “JUST DO IT!” Michael bellowed in response to the thunder. But no more lightning flashed.

“AAAAAHHHH!!” he screamed in a ferocious hysteria; clenching his eyes with his hands and falling to his knees, he continued with his agonizing shrill until his voice split in pain from the force.

“Fine then!” He lashed out in a raspy voice. “If you won't do it, then I will!” Michael shot up from his outcry position, ran to the edge and leapt off.

As he fell with the rain, a sudden calmness soothed his being. Death was upon him, and he knew how and when because he had made the decision himself. Sweet bliss eluded the fact that his time on Earth was about to end, and his cry for death would be satisfied with an eventual and sudden thud. He seemed to fall forever in a mania of joy; he took his would-be last breath and-

Chapter 7
The End is Nigh​

Crash! Michael landed in a large pile of hay in the only wooden cart left out in the entire marketplace. Michael was sore from the fall, but was very much alive and well. Everything seemed to be surreal; nothing he did could escape the fact that he would have to live. The rain pitter-pattered around him as he cried into the hay. He wept like a baby, and let the rest of his frustration out in the grandeur of sobs that bellowed forth. The storm started to settle as low rumbles of thunder mocked him from afar.

The next day Michael was in his bed. He had returned to the temple, but said nothing to any of the inhabitants. He pondered how he had landed in the only pile of hay in the marketplace. He imagined what would it have been like if he had leapt from only a few feet to the right or left. How did the lightning not strike him, but the other, lower buildings instead. Living was unbearable.

A deep hole had crept it's way into Michael's being; scathing in weathered rage and swallowing any kind of thought or action. Everything seemed pointless to Michael, there was nothing to live for yet death eluded him at every moments notice. He had no purpose, no sense of drive, he was simply depressed.

Michael lied in bed for days; his body withered more into skin and bone than it had when he was on chemotherapy. Eventually he got up and walked outside the temple. He took a stroll down to the mote of water and took drink from his hand. It slithered down his esophagus smoothly, but did nothing to fill the void that stretched with every step. He felt there was no point staying at the temple; it was time to go home.

Dragging his feet, Michael slumped his way through a bustling marketplace. People ran about around him as they lived their lives, ignoring him justly as he slowly entered one of the market's squares. He had accepted that death will evade him for some time and so returning home seemed to be the best solution for the time being-

Someone yelled, then a horn blared out and Michael turned to see a bus barreling toward him at too high a speed to miss. This was it. This was his long awaited death, sweet ending, lovely benothings. Michael closed his eyes as warmth filled his frozen body. Emulating joy from his pores, radiating finality from his heart, Michael welcomed his friend in a dark cloak to take his soul and parade it around without a body. Sound left him, light flashed to blind him, feelings of the world around him disapparated, and time slowed to almost a halt.

Michael found himself opening his eyes extremely slowly, his nose bent in from the side of the bus as it zoomed past him in half-time. He hadn't moved, nor done anything, but turn his head along with the bus as it cleared past him. Michael was alive, but bewildered. Death had again avoided him, but this time, it wasn't because of medicine, nor from mistakes on his own accord, it was the simple chance that he missed the crazed bus. It was no one's fault, nor reason for his survival; it wasn't planned, nor predicted. It was beautiful, and Michael finally understood Theta.

They had been answering him from the first day, even though Michael had been asking all the wrong questions. How and when he would die were irrelevant to life and death. Death is the lot of every mortal being, from the largest of beasts, to the tiniest of gnats, it is synonymous with life and all the creatures of the world understand the equality between the two. In fact, Michael wasn't sure Theta saw the two as two different things; Michael felt certain that both life and death were just apart of a large circle that encapsulated life. Rapture. The final sweat beads of worrying on death fell to the ground. Michael took in a deep breath and could smell all the scents that flourished about around him. Color exploded with vigor as his eyes sharpened to the scene. People speaking foreign tongues, the shuffling of feet, the rolling of tires, all in a cacophony of orchestratal sound. Life was beautiful.

Michael strolled along the marketplace with this new found understanding that death will come to all when death comes and life be the opposite nature; bystanders watched in awe from his senselessness of not being killed by the bus as he continued to return home. Death will happen to all, and so life must be lived just as death must be the end, enjoy it while it lasts, question its reason if one must, but eventually it will come, and the end will result in the same. Michael had found his answer; he understands the two as one and will welcome death as a lifelong friend when his time comes. Until then, however, Michael will cherish the time he has and the time he had with Theta, Mowgli, and Guru Laghima, viewing it as a turning point in his lasting life.

“Life and death, a two-faced creature that cannot be swayed, cannot be without the other, and will always be in tune; let those who seek its mysteries find their fill and be not clouded by mysterious wonders of the physical realm but see an existence beyond. To let one be bothered by such nonsense is to ravish one's sickness. Be cured of the mortal coil, but enjoy it while it lasts.” The booming voice sounded so softly it almost went unheard.

The End​

Ready for Grading
Pokemon: Girafarig, Abra, Meditite
Categorie(s): Hard, Hard, Medium (Respectfully)
Character Count: Approx. 51,375
MCR: 50,000




Author's Notes:

Spoiler

This story had a lot of inspiration coming from all fathoms of media, from Harry Potter to Space Dandy, Futurama to Life of Pi, even from Jak II the videogame for PS2 to Avatar: The Last Airbender. If you find all the references (including the ones I reference to my old stories) then good for you! You're a meticulous nerd! But anyways, some fun facts I threw in there if you didn't know!

- Laghima (not only a reference to Avatar: The Legend of Korra) is a siddhi, a hindu/buddist word describing ancient magical powers one could attain through things like meditation and yoga; Laghima being seemingly weightless.

- Brahimada is Punjabi for "the universe" and is also similar to the word "Brahmanda" which is one of the eighteen sacred texts in Hinduism explaining the history of the universe.

- Theta is a greek symbol and holds meaning to death. One would put up the symbol above warrior's heads in a painting/carving depicting them as dead.

- Michael goes through the 5 stages of grief, but not in the particular order.

 

Hi, I'm your grader. Grade up sometime this century, but probably before the end of the week.

 

Story Stuff
Alright, woo. Long story, hello. Been a while since I've graded a lengthy story, if I've even graded a lengthy story at all, so bear with me here. Been a while since I've graded in general, but I don't think I've forgotten how to do that. xD

We have here the story of Michael, who's grieving over the loss of his cancer. Surprisingly too. One would normally be happy and full of joy if they'd lost their cancer. They'd be celebrating the fact that they'd overcome this illness that could possibly kill them. But not Michael. No, instead he grieves and wants to know how he'll die since cancer didn't take his life away from him. So he goes and visits an Alakazam and the Abra and Meditite that live with him. When he doesn't get the answers he wants, he tries to commit suicide and death constantly eludes him. It's then that he finally understands what they were trying to tell him all along: death will come when it's ready to come for you, it's inevitable and you should enjoy your life while it lasts.

The story is pretty intense with Michael going through the five stages of grief, though in a different order than usual. It was also pretty intense with the talk of cancer and the attempted suicide bit towards the end. Definitely not something for the light hearted. Props to you for putting that trigger warning up.

Unfortunately, I don't think I caught the references to other books/movies/TV shows/whatever that you included in the story. Too vague for me. ;( Or maybe I'm just really bad at catching these things, who knows. No big deal here though, just probably my bad reading comprehension skills showing. Nevertheless, it was a nice story, and I enjoyed reading it!

Detail Stuff
I honestly don't really think detail is something I need to stress too much on here today. I don't really have anything bad here I want to note, to be honest. I didn't really see anything that was bad in terms of detail. It was all pretty spot on. Not going to waste a whole lot of time on this section when there's not much else to say here, so let's just move on.

Grammar Stuff
Alright, so before I begin, I'm going to assume most of the little issues here are because you didn't have time to go back and proofread and therefore edit the mistakes you made. Or maybe you did, I dunno. At any rate, I did see some little things like words that sound the same but are spelled differently errors. (There's a word for this, but it escapes me at the moment. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about though.) I just want to make you aware that they exist, but I'm not going to go through and show you where they are since A) I don't want to come off as nitpicky and B) I trust you can find them yourself. I am, however, going to point out the more consistent errors throughout the story so that you can fix those in this story and/or in future stories.

The comma after food doesn't need to be there. Since "hadn't truly looked at her buyer until now" isn't a complete sentence by itself, you don't need the comma. If you had "she hadn't truly looked at her buyer until now" instead, the comma would be fine. There's a few instances of this throughout the story. A little tip on this is if the two parts of the sentence without the conjunction (and, but, so, etc.) can be standalone sentences, then add the comma. If they can't be standalone sentences, then you don't need the comma.

"The" shouldn't be capitalized in the dialogue tag. You sort of alternate between capitalizing the first word of your dialogue tag and not doing it at all; in some cases, it's appropriate, like when it's someone's name or title, but in other cases, when you're saying "the Abra," for instance, it's not. I'm not sure if this is just an accidental thing or an error you missed, but it happened a few times, so I'm going to point it out just in case you weren't aware.

Alright two quotes here with a similar style, but different issues. I'm putting them both here because I feel like they go hand in hand.

In the top quote, you shouldn't have capitalized "my" as it was a continuation of the "He bowed..." sentence. However, on the flip side, with the bottom quote, there should be a period after Michael and "why" should be capitalized. The "no" plus the dialogue tag is its own sentence. You can keep the sentences and dialogue the way you have them, it's just the grammatical issues that are the problem here.

Decision Stuff + Length
Alright, for your length, with all seven chapters combined, you have a grand total of 51657 characters. Woo! For two Hards and a Medium, it's recommended to have an MCR of at least 50k. You're just above that, so no worries here.

Let it be known I've put this in detail, then in plot, and now it's here. I'm just gonna leave it here too because I'm pretty sure this is the best section of the grade for it. but i could just move it to grammar too ugh I've glanced over your target Pokemon: Girafarig, Abra, and Meditite. I do that to get an idea of things to look for when I'm grading and to give me an idea of how harsh/lax I should be grading the story. I saw much Abra and Meditite, but only one mention of the Girafarig. It was during the swirly star sequence when the Girafarig talks of questioning death during chapter 5. What role does Girafarig play in the story? Is he just there during that swirly star sequence in chapter 5 or is there a bigger role he's meant to play that isn't there? I noticed that one of your targets was Girafarig, so I was curious as to the role he was going to be playing here. He has a role, yes, to talk to Michael about how he should appreciate life, but it's not really that big of a role. I feel like Girafarig should have more of a role; right now it feels like it's just there. Abra and Meditite play pretty decent roles, but Girafarig just feels like it was thrown in for a bit, then taken right back out.

So now for your results. All in all, I did like the story. No issues on detail, though a few things on grammar. Nothing too serious. The story was still readable. A lot of the grammar issues were ones that could easily be fixed with a proofread, and the others I noted in the grade, so they're all things that can be fixed. For your captures, however, I'm going to have to say Abra and Meditite captured, but not Girafarig. I feel that Abra and Meditite played significant roles in the story, both acting as sort of mentors to Michael while he was staying in India to talk to the Alakazam. Michael even went as far as copying Meditite's vow of silence to try and get what he wanted and then breaking it once he realized he wasn't getting the answer he wanted from the Alakazam. They both seemed like key characters to the story. Girafarig, on the other hand, seemed like it was just thrown in there for the purpose of being thrown in there. It talked to Michael about appreciating life, yes, but that was about it. Had Girafarig been an Easiest ranked Pokemon, or maybe even a Simple (though that would be pushing it a bit, I think), it would've been captured, but given it's rank and the small role it had, I'm going to have to fail you on the Girafarig. You do still get the Abra and Meditite though, so you have those things going for you. If you incorportate the Girafarig into the story more somehow, maybe have it be more of a mentor like Abra and Meditite instead of just appearing to Michael in a starry sequence, I'm willing to regrade the story for the Girafarig. (I'm also going to recommend you fix the grammar issues too for the regrade since I'll be looking for those too.) You'll have to wait until you're either eliminated from SWC or the conclusion of SWC, whichever happens first, to edit your story and ask for the regrade, but once that happens, just shoot me a message and I'll regrade asap. If you have any questions, you know how to find me~ Congratulations on two of your new Pokemon, and best of luck in SWC!!

 

Graded & deleted because SWC, and I'm about to PM it to Liam.