Note to readers: This is the first story that I've written for fun, and I don't have a clue what to write about. Therefore, I'm just going to kindof let this write itself, and lead in it's own direction. If I think of something interesting at any time, I'll do my best to incorporate it into my story. In fact, I'm not even sure if there will be Pokemon involved. In addition, if you would like to comment, please PM me. I feel that posts in the middle of a story tends to draw the readers attention from what is being told, and it just makes it seem cluttered. Thank you!!
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A Way Out

Chapter 1

Jakob was 14, energetic and clever. He was usually pretty involved, in Student Council, Writers Club, and soccer, and always managed to bring a smile out from even the gloomiest of people. All around, he was pretty well liked, by nearly everyone... except himself.

At this point in time, he happened to be sitting in his room, staring out the window, while on the other side of the glass, thunder crashed and buildings were drenched in a torrential downpour. Jakob watched and listened, taking in everything: to him, every drop of rain was a free spirit, with the priveledge of living it's life without care or worry concerning the future and what it would hold.

As he watched, Jakob's head began to slump forward, his eyelids droop. He heard a rythmic pulsing in his head, and began to succumb to it's call. The dance of the storm seemed to hypnotize him as the unseen wind battered the Earth with sheet after sheet of icy droblets. Slowly, Jakob's entire body relaxed, and he began to slip into a careless slumber, paying no heed to the schoolbooks sprawled out before him. The beat of the pulsing drummed endlessly onward in his mind.

"Jakob!"

As abruptly as this hypnotic sleep had begun to cover him, it was gone. Jakob sat bolt upright, cringed as his neck popped, and knocked over a lamp on his desk, breaking the bulb.

"Jakob, it's time for dinner.", called his mother from the kitchen. As if in answer, the rain lessened, the wind died down to a mere breeze, and with one last crack of thunder, the storm was gone.

Jakob thought this somewhat odd, but had forgotten the whole affair by the time he was washed and seating himself at the dinner table.
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PM me and tell me what you think!! Chapter 2 coming soon, I hope.

7/10
i'm starting to think that is kyogre

Because of thunder and raining? Anyway, I would give 8/10. It's not that bad.

Um... I don't know if you actually read it, because in the beginning I requested that you PM me if you want to rate it or provide a comment. I realize that I can't stop you, but I was just asking this as a favor.

Anyway, I'm sorry that it's taking such a long time to get Chapter Two out, but I'm really busy. What I've written so far is a bit hard to follow, but what story isn't in the beginning. I hope to add to the story in a day or two.

As for your Kyogre prediction, I've decided to make this completely Pokemon free. I just want to write something that isn't bound by themes or anything like that. Thanks for checking out what I've got so far!!

Note to readers: I've come up with something interesting to do with this. I hope it works...

Here it is, Chapter Two:
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Chapter Two

"Your fathers not going to be eating with us tonight. I hope your hungry", Jakob's mom told him.

"There's a surprise", Jakob mumbled in return. Jakob's dad wasn't exactly what you'd call a social butterfly. His office was in the basement, and it was there that he spent most of his time. In fact, Jakob questioned whether or not his father knew what the sun was, since it was rare that it touched his skin or eyes. He operated his business from that basement, whatever that business may be. Jakob had snuck into the basement before, during one of the few days that his father stepped outside: his Aniversary. Jakob was never restricted from entering the basement, but for some reason, he always felt that his dad didn't want him down there. What he found completely shocked him: the whole basement was furnished, he already knew that, but what was odd was that it was absolutely, perfectly... normal. A desk sat in the corner, covered with papers, a lamp, a stapler and some other average office supplies. Another desk was home to a computer, fairly new. What was most bizzare was that it was what he saw here that brought in every penny that his family had. His mother was a substitute teacher, the money she earned alone could not support the family. Which meant it all came from this room. His family wasn't poor, in fact they did quite well. A big screen television and high speed internet, among other things, proved this.

Jakob's ponderings were interrupted by his mother.

"Eat your supper, dear, it'll get cold", she said. Which was ultimately true. Steam had stopped rising from his pork chop, and the green beans tasted frozen in his mouth.

After supper, the table was cleared, and the dishwasher roared into action. Jakob knew that he still had work to do, so he grabbed some cookies and headed back upstairs.
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PM me and tell me what you think!! Chapter Three coming soon, I hope.

Note to readers: Despite my desire to try and add as much to this as possible, I'm way to busy to be contributing to it every day. This may be the last chapter for a little while, but I beg of you not to close this.

Also: Font in different colors are different stories. What I'm attempting to do is tell a story inside a story, or rather, many stories inside a story. We'll see if it works...
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Chapter Three

Math was not Jakob's favorite subject.

"Express each ratio in simplest form: 2mi. to 880 yd." he repeated to himself for the twenty third time. As simple as it may seem, Jakob's mind did not seem to want to function properly in order to supply him with the proper solution. He had already done 8 other problems like it, all of which had been very similar, but becoming gradually more difficult.

Sighing, Jakob pushed the rolling chair away from the desk and leaned back. Slightly too far, it seemed, as he nearly tumbled backwards onto the floor. A sudden rage swept over him, and he suddenly felt compelled to toss the chair across the room. Oddly, however this passed in moments, leaving behind only a massive exhaustion. After all of these math problems, he still had to write a paper for English - and it was already midnight.

Yet, he looked forward to the English, as it happened to be his favorite subject, and by far the one in which he excelled. Normally, Jakob preffered to do his homework in the order that he had his classes the following day, meaning English was done last. But something in him told him he would be happier if he bent the rules that he had created for himself.

So, he dug through his backpack, fished out a worn looking folder, and prepared himself for the assignment. His hopes were crushed, however, when he discovered that the assignment was an essay. Jakob despised essays. They were too strict and ordered, and they were a complete waste of creative writing skills. And the uncontrolable anger flooded through him once again. This time, though, it didn't subside. Jakob threw papers and writing utensils in every direction, with silent screams pulsing through his mind. Finally, he threw a textbook, hit himself in the head for his stupidity, and resigned himself to the fact that he may not sleep tonight.

"Screw this!" he said to the silence. Forgetting his homework, he pulled out a sheet of paper and, without even putting a heading in the margin, started right in on the first thing that came to mind.

The house was chaotic. Tools covered every inch of every surface, except for the multiple stacks of scrolls on every shelf.
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Does anyone know what will happen? I don't. Chapter Four coming as soon as I have 20 minutes of free time. This could be awhile...

Note to readers: I know that I always leave a not for anyone who looks at this, but I've always got something to say...

Anyway, this entire chapter is exactly what Jakob is writing. I realize that I'm sort of starting a new story, but it's all part of my clever scheme. I hope people continue to read what I've put my heart and soul into, even though I'm not that far in it yet...

P.S. Sorry that I double posted again, but I would like to use each post as a seperation of Chapters. I promise that I'm not a spammer.
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Chapter Four

The house was chaotic, Tools covered every inch of every surface, except for hundreds of scrolls that lined the shelves. The tools were of a strange make, each with an unknown purpose, known only to those that could harness their power. The Mineralcasters. However, all of these tools really possessed nothing that could be used for magical purposes, and were usually only trinkets that those with power carried with them to show their grandeur.

But scattered amidst the useless things were some boxs. It was these boxes that contained that which even the Mineralcasters themselves feared. The power of elements. The minerals of Angelite, Wavellite, Vesuvianite, Celestite, and Murmanite, which ruled this world and governed the lives of all those in Curanthius, the fair country that housed the Mineralcasters, as well as those that possessed no earthly power.

But it was in this house, at this very moment, that our story began, for it was in this house that Jenel Angel resided, holding no sway over the events of this world... or so it was believed, until the day she died.

But where we begin, her life has barely begun, and it is here, that history is altered...

The rain outside beat down upon the thatching of the roof, as thunder roared overhead, seeming to shatter the small cabin with it's ferocity. The storm had begun three days ago, and had not faltered once, nor receded only slightly, in all the time that it drenched the town of Hurbien. Jenel had become increasingly annoyed with this torrent as each day passed. The small village was known for lengthy weather issues, but this was the time she wanted the rain the least. Every moment that passed kept her from her one treasure in life, the Warrior boy, Arom.

It was known through all of Curanthius that it was forbidden for those that practiced different Arts to court, but Jenel was never one to obey rules. It was this boy that she seemed so connected to, so passionate for, that kept her from leading herself towards a miserable life. She made sure that her elders knew nothing of their relationship, and the two lovers met only midway between the two towns where they lived, beneath a Weeping Willow tree.

Jenel's father had encouraged Jenel to marry another nice Mineralcaster and bring him many fine grandchildren, but she was blind to any other besides Arom. She told herself over and over again that her father would understand the situation if she only told him, but she knew this was foolish. This was a law so powerfully enforced, that she had never before heard of an instance where this would occur.

Jenel pondered all that she knew, searching for a way out, when the door suddenly burst open, and a gust of wind sent a table falling over. One of the many strange tools rolled to a spot directly below Jenel's feet, but she took no notice. A dark figure loomed at the entry, and was slowly walking into the house.
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I am really tired. I'm surprised that I had time to write this, but I forced myself to stay up. Tell me what you think about this, and I'll hopefully have Chapter Five out soon.

Note to readers: Surprisingly enough, I actually have a great deal of spare time right now, contrary to what I said earlier. This makes me pretty happy, so I'll try to hammer out as much of the story as possible.

Also, this is a continuation of the story that I began last chapter, and it will continue like this, as long as it is in the red font, or until I feel like being creative...
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"Arom!", Jenel hollered from her chair by the fire. "You foolish boy, what are you thinking, coming to my home?"

"I could wait no longer to see you," replied the handsome boy, his dark hair falling to his shoulders.

"But what if an elder passes? What then, I ask you," she scolded, trying to sound stern, but actually immensely relieved to see him.

"I don't care anymore," he said with a glint in his eye. "I've heard a prophecy, speaking to me in the night, and it tells me that my kin is soon to be born, by one who should not bear him."

Jenel felt more concern with every word he spoke.

"I pondered this riddle, for many long hours," he continued. "and could think of only one answer. You, Jenel! You are bearing my child!"

Jenel was speechless. She believed this to be disasterous. Soon everyone in the village would wish to know who it was that made her belly round out, and she could give them no answer. "Are you sure?" she asked, after telling her concerns to her lover.

"There is no doubt in my mind," he answered. "I see that this worries you, but think! This child will bind us together forever, as a symbol of our love. Please, Jenel, run away with me. Leave your cares and concerns behind."

Jenel could not help feeling that this was the only solution, the way out that she had sought. She felt so compelled to pack her pack that very instant, but she also knew that she could not abandon all that she knew, all she had ever known.

She knew that she had to stall, that her decision could not be reached without first knowing more about just what this would mean. "Where would we go, how would we survive, how would the child survive?"

"We would journey to Trabor," he said, obviously having thought about this a great deal.

"Trabor!" Jenel exclaimed. "Are you mad? That is in Merchant country! We know nothing of Merchant customs, nor anything about their Art. In addition, I've heard terrible rumors concerning the Merchants, speak of thieves and gangs. What wisdom is their in traveling to Trabor?"

"I have spoken to many of the wise elders in Stek, those that have traveled before coming to retire in my town," Arom explained. The have taught me much about Merchants, and no thief or gang should concern you. After all, I have trained as a warrior. Do you not love me, my dear Jenel? Am I not worthy of your trust?"

Jenel knew that she trusted this man with her life, and she finally resigned herself to the wisdom that truly did exist in his words. After a long pause, she said, "You speak true, this is the only way. Though this scheme worries me, my heart tells me to trust you as I always have."

Thunder crashed ominously overhead...
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I'm still not sure where this story is leading me, but we will see how it works out. Goodnight!

Note to readers: Does anyone think I don't always need to leave a note?

This chapter is 14 years into the future from where I left off from the last story. Hope this isn't too complicated...
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Chapter 6

14 years later...

"Ben!" a voice called from the front of the wagon. A boy, looking to be about thirteen years of age, sat up abruptly and hit his head upon a crate that leaned out a bit too far. Benadir Hapsodin was a thin, but well muscled boy, with short, scruffy brown hair, which looked as though it hadn't recieved a washing for about a month. This was untrue, as Ben often pointed out to those who remarked upon it, and simply could not be helped. Despite his unruly hair, he was kept in good shape from all the boxes that his mentor, Philmonel Hapsodin, kept him carrying every time they stopped. Currently, he was dressed in long, black breaches and a tunic that used to be white. A sheathed knife lay hidden in his pocket. He would put on his least moth-eaten vest later, since, as his master constantly reminded him, "You need to look sharp for the customers. Thge better you look, the better your products will."

"Yes, Phil?" Ben was on good terms with Phil, which he discovered was uncommon between mentors and students learning how to become good Merchants. But Phil seemed to like Ben a great deal, and said he was one of the cleverest lads he had ever met.

"We'll be arriving in Irkool in about an hour," Phil replied. He appeared far younger then his true age, with a neatly trimmed yellow beard, showing only minute signs of gray. His mustache was greased and curved upward, helping to hide the small wrinkles that had recently been appearing. He was dressed in a clorful shirt and pants that were a faded green. His broad hat was adorned with a single feather that appeared as though it would pull his entire face forward with it's immensity. Some may laugh at this comical appearance, but Ben knew it was the best way to get customers: they come to see the man with the funny hat, they stay to buy all of his merchandise. Philmonel was known for being a clever salesmen. "I want you to take tally of all our wares one more time," he continued.

Wonderful, thought Ben. Taking stock was not one of his favorite chores. Though he knew it had to be done. "Alright, Phil", he replied.


Ben dug into his bag, removed from it a parchment and quill, and began counting.
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Hardly anyone's told me what they think about my story. Please send me a PM and tell me what you think.

Note to readers: Sorry that it's been a little while since I last posted an update, I'm hoping that I'll be able to add a lot more soon.

BTW: Does anyone actually read this? I don't mind if you don't, I just wanna write. But it would be nice to know that someone likes my story, or even if you don't like it...
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Chapter 7

"Welcome to Irkool, my friend, may I interest you in some fine items that I collected from a far away land..."

Benadir didn't even stop to check what the merchant was trying to sell him, he'd seen it all before. Similar calls echoed all along the streets of Irkool, deafening to the ear that wasn't used to them.

"Powerful jewels!"

"Fantastic relics!!"

"Hard working slave monkeys!!!"

The last call surprised Ben a bit. But oddities weren't... well... odd in the world of Merchants, and Ben simply kept moving.

The apprentice had three sacks dangling over his shoulder, while two crates balanced precariously upon his right hand. It was times like this that Ben worried most about being stolen from. He had no extra hands to defend himself with, and it wasn't like he could simply drop what he held.

Philmonel had explained to him that he should haul this merchandise up to the stall that they rented. Unfortunately for Ben, this spot was at the very end of the largest and most crowded road in Irkool, and movement was slow. Not to mention the blazing sun beating down on him overhead. Ben didn't have any hand to spare for wiping away the sweat that glistened upon his brow, so he just let it run into his eyes.

Irkool was built upon a large oasis in the Lehar Desert, one of two deserts that covered large portions of Curanthius.

Finally, up ahead, he spotted a ridiculously large feather, and headed in that direction. Ben was nearly there when an unexpected stone crossed his path, and sent him and all that he carried to the rocky ground.

Moments before he hit the ground, he placed the vest that had rested hanging off the crates undernesth the sacks to cusion there fall. The boxes landed with a loud THUMP, but seemed undamaged.

He rose quickly, only to realize that one of the bags had torn open, and was being looted by a band of scruffy looking kids.

"That might be a bad idea", he said coolly, drawing out his knife. The children backed away, and then ran for it, obviously getting enough to make them a bit of money. Ben cursed himself for being so clumsy, and began to collect what fell, while keeping an eye on passer-bys.

But something caught his eye. It was a small wooden box, unadorned, and standing out among all of the bright shiny objects that sorrounded it. After everything else had been gathered together, he placed the small box in a pocket, now thoroughly curious.

Moving again, he reached Phil, who asked "What in hell took you so long?"

"Sorry, Phil", Ben replied, though he didn't truly mean it. His mind was far too occupied by the small, simple box that lay hidden in his pocket.

Note to readers: I'm so busy!! I really want to right more for the story, but I have so very little time...
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Chapter 8

Ben lay exhausted upon one of the scarce patches of uncovered ground under the pavilion. The entire day had been spent selling to passerbys that took an interest in what he and his master had to offer. They had been about as successful as usual, being the most popular on their stretch of street. Other Merchants spent the time that they would have been selling things, giving the busy pair angry looks that would have killed a light hearted pidgeon.

But Ben had become quite used to this, experiencing it at every city he visited. Others would just have to accept that Phil was a better shopkeeper then they.

Now that he was finally allowed a break, he took full advantage of it. Ben knew that there would be one last massive wave of customers before the sun set; there always was. Phil told Ben that he would handle those few stragglers that had missed the day rush, while his apprentice took a little time to rist his limbs and voice.

The boy was about to close his eyes, when he remembered something. The small, plain box that now dwelt in his trouser pocket was still a mystery to him. He pulled it out and sat up to examine it. There was nothing special about the lid, so he removed it, to find inside a palm full of reddish powder. He took a pinch of it in his fingers and looked closer. It was so fine, that it was impossible to see only a single grain.

He rubbed some around on his palm to feel it's texture, but a sudden burning heat suddenly welled up and he dropped the powder to nurse his throbbing hand. Now thoroughly fascinated, he closed the box and searched it for a marking of any kind. And he found a marking, beneath the box, some strange lines and shapes that weren't anything that Ben could read. His proffesion had called for him to know many languages, so as to communicate with anyone. He thought hard about the inscriptions, searching his well taught mind for anything that would give him understanding.

Without warning, a flash lit the drapes that sheltered the pavilion, and a writhing mass of fire erupted from the very spot that he had dropped the powder.

Startled and unthinking, he stumbled backward into a stack of empty boxes, sending them falling the dirt below. The noise of it brought Ben back to his senses, and he grabbed a large embroidered blanket to smother the flames. This wasn't hard, since the fire was only ankle high and not wider then a small bowl, and the flames were extinguished.

Ben was left standing with a minutely scorched blanket and a baffled look.
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I've given up on my hopes of someone rating this... Oh well...

Note to Readers: I just realized that I used Jakob instead of Benadir in the last chapter!! I'm so stupid. Jakob is the name that I use most often, so sometimes it gets confusing to change a habit. I'm sorry!

Also: I don't have any time! I'm not going to be able to write much more of this until a long vacation or summer rolls around, both of which are still far away. So Jakob (I'm talking about the writer this time) is going to bed. And he is still going to be sleeping in a few weeks at least. Use your imagination!!
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Chapter 9 (I think)

Benadir was left standing with a minutely scorched blanket and a baffled look.

Jakob set down his pen and looked at the small clock sitting on his table.

"2:30?!", he hollered, then quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. He needed to sleep, for he had school tomorrow and he still hadn't finished his math homework. "I guess I'll just do it at lunch tomorrow", he sighed.

He closed his book and carefully folded the sheets which he had written his story upon, placing them gently into his desk drawer.

The light was turned off, but he didn't even bother getting undressed, simply falling onto his bed, asleep only moment after his head hit the soft pillow.
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That's it for now. More will be coming, eventually.