AStoryForOne
patreon
[Snippet] The Ghost King (Pokemon): Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2025-04-28 04:13:32 +0000 UTCEdmund leaned back against the tree, still catching his breath.
The Gastly hovered lazily in front of him, occasionally spinning a slow, lopsided circle like it didn’t have a care in the world.
Neither of them spoke—or at least, Edmund didn’t.
The Gastly made noises. Soft, burbling sounds that almost sounded like words, if you squinted your ears hard enough.
"Gass...lee," it said, stretching the syllables out with a little ghostly flutter at the end.
"Yeah," Edmund muttered. "I got that much."
Gastly tilted its head, mist swirling around it in slow, lazy curls.
It said something else—shorter this time, something like "Gass...tuh?"
Edmund frowned, trying to make sense of it.
"You asking something?" He guessed. "Because I didn’t exactly take 'Ghost Pokemon Language 101' before dropping into this hellhole."
Gastly laughed again, a soft ripple in the air.
Despite himself, Edmund smiled.
He shifted, wincing at the twinge from his back, and leaned forward a little.
"You know this place?" he asked, waving vaguely toward the berry grove and surrounding forest.
"Gass! lee-Gastly," it said with a weird little hiccup at the end.
"Cool. Super helpful," Edmund said dryly, utterly confused as to what it was saying.
Gastly floated upside down now, slowly spinning, obviously having the time of its life.
Edmund sighed and grabbed a nearby stick.
Just a random fallen branch, long enough to serve as a pretend toy.
He waved it in front of the Gastly.
"You want it?" he asked in a deadpan voice, like he was talking to a hyperactive dog.
Gastly tilted its head the other way, mist curling at its edges.
Edmund smirked and lobbed the stick a few yards away into the bushes.
"Fetch."
For a moment, Gastly just hovered there. Edmund realized that Pokémon could also give the most deadpan expressions possible. Though, as if to humor him, it quickly zipped after the stick, disappearing into the woods.
Edmund blinked.
"...No way that actually worked."
There was a loud whoosh of mist—and the stick came flying back at him, way faster than he expected.
It hit him squarely in the forehead with a soft thwap.
"Mother Fu—!" Edmund grunted, rubbing his head. "You little shit."
Gastly cackled, swirling in the air like a smoke ring.
Gastly floated in a lazy arc, making an exaggerated 'oops' motion with its tiny foggy arms.
"Yeah, yeah," Edmund muttered, tossing the stick aside. “Maybe I deserved that.”
He shifted again, adjusting his weight against the tree, feeling the dull throb of his injuries settle into something more manageable.
Gastly bobbed closer, making another noise—something like "Ghast?"
Edmund squinted.
"...Are you asking if I'm okay?"
Gastly gave a small tilt, not quite a nod, not quite a shrug.
Edmund sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"I'll live. Not my first time getting stabbed, probably not my last."
Gastly let out a soft hum, almost sympathetic.
It floated closer, curling around him like a lazy wisp of smoke before plopping down in the air a few feet away, mirroring his posture.
They sat like that for a while.
Bloodied, beaten, exhausted, anxious, tired. Edmund was feeling all sorts of emotions and sensations, but oddly, he was also somewhat relaxed.
It was odd for Edmund. Despite being in this fantastical world for a few months at this point, it was the first time he was so close to a Pokémon.
@***@
After a few minutes of sitting there, Edmund shifted where he sat, uncomfortable.
Not from the Gastly floating around him, still doing lazy circles.
Not even from the aching sting in his shoulder.
It was the forest.
The longer he sat, the more he noticed how wrong it felt.
The air was cold and heavy, like he was breathing through a wet blanket.
And the trees... the shadows between them seemed thicker. Like something was lurking just out of sight, watching. The longer he sat there, the longer Edmund felt the hairs on his arms start to stand up.
Edmund drummed his fingers against his knee, unsettled.
The Beedrill didn’t stop chasing him because of Gastly.
He was sure of it now.
No way a swarm that size would back down from one little ghost.
Something else had spooked them.
Something worse.
He glanced at Gastly, who was now drifting sideways like a balloon, occasionally poking a stick into its own misty body just for fun.
"Hey," Edmund said, voice low.
Gastly floated upright, blinking at him.
"You know what’s out there?" he asked, jerking his thumb toward the deep woods.
Gastly bobbed once, mist curling slightly tighter around its body.
"Something bad?" Edmund asked, narrowing his eyes.
Gastly spun in a lazy circle, then puffed out a little cloud of mist. It shifted into a vague, looming shape for a heartbeat before dissipating.
"Big," Edmund muttered, trying to interpret. "Okay, big’s not good."
Gastly made a sound—"Gastlyyyyy," soft and drawn out—and gestured with a tiny, misty arm.
It wasn’t panicking.
It was more like... just kinda acknowledging it more than anything? Edmund didn’t really understand all that much, maybe he was grasping at straws.
Edmund frowned.
"You scared of it?"
Gastly made a half-shrugging motion, then twirled in the air again, a little faster this time.
Edmund took it as a yes, but it didn’t really feel like fear. More like Gastly was saying, ‘yeah, you don't mess with that.’
"You’re not making me feel any better, you know," Edmund muttered.
Gastly let out a little noise, almost amused, and floated a bit closer.
Edmund leaned back slightly out of reflex, still not quite used to having something so inhuman up in his face.
"Whatever it is," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "we’re not going to meet it today."
Gastly flipped over midair again, its tongue lolling out dramatically.
Edmund huffed a breath through his nose, not quite a laugh but close.
He reached down, grabbed the stick Gastly had thrown at him earlier, and held it up.
"You wanna try again?" he asked. "This time, maybe don't aim for my skull?"
Gastly buzzed in place, clearly delighted.
Edmund tossed the stick lightly into the clearing.
Gastly zipped after it, caught it midair with a swirl of mist—and, with obvious intent, flung it straight back at Edmund’s chest.
"Hey!" Edmund caught it with both hands, nearly falling backward from the unexpected force.
Gastly made a bubbling giggle sound and spun a slow victory lap.
"You're a little gremlin, you know that?" Edmund said, tossing the stick again.
This time Gastly caught it, floated right up to him, and smacked him lightly on the forehead with it before dropping it into his lap.
"Thanks," Edmund deadpanned.
Gastly's grin somehow got wider.
Despite himself, Edmund chuckled.
"Alright, alright," he said. "You win."
Gastly did a triumphant spin, releasing a little puff of mist like a firework.
Edmund leaned his head back against the tree, wincing at the pull in his back. He still had to get moving soon. Still had to get back, patch himself up properly before the wound turned into something worse.
But for now... he stayed.
Just a little longer.
The woods were still wrong. Still heavy.
But Gastly, at least, made it easier to breathe.
Even if it didn’t have real words, even if it barely understood him—or vice versa—
they understood enough.
Edmund wiped his sticky hands on his jeans and sat back against the tree, eyeing the lunchbox full of salvaged berries with a faint grimace.
Not a lot, but better than nothing.
Gastly floated nearby, spinning slow, lazy circles in the cold air.
"You really don’t shut up, do you?" Edmund muttered, glancing sideways as the ghost let out a soft "Gass...tuh?"
It didn’t sound demanding. More... curious.
Edmund huffed quietly through his nose and reached down, pulling a squashed berry off his boot.
"You wanna know why I’m here," he said, more a statement than a question.
Gastly bobbed once in the air, the mist curling and folding in tight little loops.
Edmund shrugged.
"Same reason anyone’s out here, I guess. Trying to get a leg up in life."
He flicked the ruined berry aside and picked at the dirt caught under his fingernails.
"Trainer’s license is coming up. Gotta get ready. Supplies. Money is important, could sell this crap for a fair bit.” Though Edmund considered that it was probably best not to do so in the city. At the very least, if that guy made it out alive, he’d be telling the local Rangers about the Beedrill swarm and maybe to be on the look out for a kid also involved.
There wasn’t technically ‘poaching’ or things like that in the normal sense like back home, but disturbing a very clearly marked Beedrill hive, that was going to land someone in serious trouble.
He shifted, stretching his legs stiffly, wincing as his shoulder twinged again.
"Can’t afford to go in half-assed.” He muttered again. Especially after this little adventure, he realized how dangerous this world really was. Money was going to be a priority, with money – even in his last world – it could solve pretty much any problem.
Gastly let out a small hum—soft, almost thoughtful.
Edmund leaned his head back against the tree, staring up through the knotted branches overhead.
"Wasn’t even supposed to be here, if I’m honest," he muttered. "Not in the big picture sense."
Gastly floated closer, tilting its head slightly.
Edmund caught the movement but didn’t look away from the sky.
"Had my time somewhere else. Screwed it up. Got lucky, depending on how you look at it."
He tapped the side of the lunchbox absently.
"Now I get a second shot. Or maybe it’s just a bad joke."
Gastly said something low—"Lee-gass..."—that almost sounded like sympathy, but Edmund ignored it.
"I guess it fits, though," he said after a moment, cracking a wry smile. "Me and you. Couple of leftovers."
Gastly let out a little chuff of laughter and spun a lazy circle.
Edmund finally looked back at it, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
"Atleast you look like you’re having fun," He sighed, looking up at the strangely dark and bleak sky that should have been sunny. “I’m still trying to figure out everything.”
Gastly made another sound—short, sharp, almost playful—and darted around his head once before floating backward again. “Ghast! Gastly, lee Gas!?”
Edmund shook his head slowly, vaguely understanding him with the charades going on.
"Not trying to be a hero or anything," he said, voice low, believing the Gastly asking him about being some amazing Pokémon trainer. “Just want to survive and not die in some ditch…..”
Again.
He left that part off.
He picked up a small, intact berry between his fingers, rolling it absently.
"Just got to keep moving. Stay free. Maybe find a place that’s mine out here. Don’t know who, where or what ,but everyone goes on a Pokémon Journey, right? It’s called a Journey for a reason, maybe I’ll find what I’m looking for out there.”
The words slipped out before he really thought about them.
He clamped his mouth shut after that, frowning slightly, and dropped the berry into the lunchbox.
Gastly didn’t react much. Just floated there, grinning that wide, lazy grin.
Edmund wiped his hands off again and leaned back with a soft grunt.
He hadn't planned on saying half that out loud.
Hadn’t realized how easy it was to just... keep talking.
He squinted sideways at Gastly.
"You’re trouble," he said simply.
Gastly spun once, making a silly whooping noise.
Despite himself, Edmund cracked a small, tired smile.
Trouble or not, it was nice not to be talking to himself for once.
Edmund leaned forward with a quiet sigh, dragging the lunchbox closer again.
Gastly hovered nearby, still doing lazy loops in the air like a balloon caught in a breeze.
"Let's see how bad the damage is," Edmund muttered, flicking the latch open.
The smell hit him first—sweet and sour all at once, sticky enough to make the back of his throat tighten.
Inside, the berries were a mess.
The good ones—the ones he’d risked his damn life for—were crammed together with smashed pulp, their juices oozing out into a disgusting sludge at the bottom.
Edmund swore under his breath and grabbed a relatively intact one—a plump blue Sitrus berry—and wiped it off on his hoodie.
"Fantastic," he muttered, inspecting it. "Coulda died, and I’m walking away with jam."
Gastly drifted closer, peering into the box with wide, gleaming eyes. It made a soft "Glee-gah?" noise, almost like it was asking if this was normal.
Edmund gave it a flat look.
"No," he said. "This isn’t normal."
He picked through the pile carefully, trying to salvage what he could. About two thirds of the berries were too far gone—busted open, or utterly smooshed.
"So much of this shit’s worthless now," he grumbled, dropping a handful of ruined skins onto the ground with a wet splat.
Gastly floated upside down and made a sympathetic little whine.
Edmund smirked humorlessly.
"Yeah, thanks for the support," he said dryly.
He pulled out a few more berries—recognizing a couple of sturdy Orans, a rare Colbur—and set them in a cleaner pile at the corner of the lunchbox.
Gastly let out another soft noise and started puffing tiny clouds of mist over the better berries, trying to "help" in its own way.
Edmund paused, watching the little puffs of mist float over the fruit.
He shook his head and chuckled under his breath.
"Not sure that's sanitary, bud."
Gastly twirled like it didn’t care in the slightest.
Edmund kept working, tossing out another mangled handful of berry skins.
Each one he threw away scraped at something raw inside him. Not just because of the lost money, though that certainly pissed him off. But because it meant he’d run himself ragged, bled, and this was his reward.
Story of his life, really.
By the time he finished sorting, he had maybe nine berries that were good enough to bother with.
He snapped the lunchbox shut a little harder than necessary.
Gastly floated closer again, letting out a curious little hum.
"Yeah, yeah," Edmund muttered. "Should’ve planned better. Should’ve had a real container, not a piece of junk lunchbox."
He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the stiff, sticky blood starting to crust where the Poison Sting had hit him.
"And maybe," he added under his breath, "should’ve kept my head down and let the other idiot get swarmed."
Gastly made a soft, airy chuckle, like it agreed but didn’t judge him for it.
Edmund gave the lunchbox a shake, hearing the berries thud against the inside.
"Still. Could be worse," he said, almost convincing himself.
He tucked the box under one arm and pushed himself up to stand.
His legs protested immediately—aching and stiff from sitting too long and running too hard.
Gastly hovered higher to stay eye-level with him, tilting slightly as if asking, what now?
He could still feel that wrongness deep in the woods, the heavy press of something unseen.
Staying here wasn’t smart.
He shifted the lunchbox to his backpack, careful not to jostle it too much, and cinched the straps tighter over his sore shoulder.
"Time to get outta here," he said.
Gastly made a low, questioning noise—almost disappointed.
Edmund glanced at it, one brow arching.
"What, you think I’m camping out here all night?" he asked. "No thanks. I’m beat up, half-poisoned, and the local wildlife already wants me dead."
Gastly twirled once, a little slower this time.
Instead of floating alongside him, it drifted ahead, bobbing gently in the air.
Edmund frowned.
"You’re not heading back," he muttered.
Gastly let out a soft noise—almost coaxing—and nudged itself toward a path barely visible between the trees, deeper into the darker part of the woods.
Edmund hesitated, glancing back the way he’d come. The trail out was still there, though not entirely safe and familiar with the Beedrills nearby.
Following some half-mad ghost deeper into the forest wasn’t exactly a bright idea.
He stayed rooted in place for a moment longer—then sighed and shifted his grip on the lunchbox.
"Fine," he muttered. "If I get eaten by something, it’s your fault."
Gastly spun once, almost like it was laughing, then floated forward, leading him into the denser shadows.
The change was immediate.
The temperature dropped a few degrees, enough that goosebumps pricked up along Edmund’s arms. The trees grew tighter together, their twisted branches seemed to begin blocking any sort of light as they formed a canopy overhead.
Every few steps, Edmund thought he caught glimpses—shapes flickering between the trees, low to the ground, crouched in the brush, nestled up high in the branches.
Eyes.
Watching.
Just... observing.
They didn’t seem particularly hostile, nor antagonistic to him, just merely watching. Edmund considered that if Gastly wasn’t with him, that wouldn’t be the case.
He kept one hand on the strap of his backpack, ready to drop the whole thing and bolt if he had to.
Nothing moved to stop him. Nothing lunged or hissed from the shadows.
Gastly floated ahead, weaving easily between the trees, casting occasional glances back at him, making soft, encouraging noises.
After a few more cautious steps, Edmund saw it.
A small clearing—not more than ten feet across—tucked between the roots of two massive trees.
Berry bushes, almost untouched.
A few of the berries had bites taken out of them, little scars in the skin, but most were still hanging heavy on the branches.
Edmund stared, blinking.
"How the hell...?"
Gastly twirled once in place, letting out a soft, pleased hum.
Careful, slow, he moved toward the bushes and crouched down, inspecting the fruit. They were full and healthy, no different than the bushes over in Beedrill territory from what he could summarize, even if he were no expert.
He reached out and plucked a handful, working methodically, keeping his movements steady, respectful almost.
"….thanks.” Edmund whispered. “It means a lot, thanks.” With his ‘family’, it was oddly jarring to be so….warm and happy around them. Comparatively, he felt a strange sense of warmness right now.
He wasn’t used to others helping him like this without wanting anything in return.
Gastly only laughed, soft and airy, curling around him like a drifting mist.
Edmund shook his head, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Following a Ghost was certainly not the worst decision he’s made today.
Edmund crouched low, working carefully through the bushes. He didn’t grab everything he could, he didn’t strip the branches bare.
It wasn’t like earlier—grabbing whatever he could while running for his life.
He picked only the ripest berries, the ones that looked ready to fall off the stems with a touch. Left the smaller ones, the ones still a little green around the edges.
This wasn’t someone else’s stash he was raiding. And even if the forest felt... wrong around the edges, it still deserved a little respect.
Gastly floated nearby, making soft noises every so often, like it was offering commentary on his choices.
"Yeah, yeah," Edmund muttered. "I know. I'm not stupid."
He plucked a few more, dusted them off, and tucked them gently into a second container he’d pulled from his bag.
By the time he straightened up, he had a decent little haul.
Not a king’s ransom—but enough to matter.
He gave the bushes one last glance, making sure he hadn’t done too much damage, then turned toward Gastly, who was bobbing in the air, looking ridiculously pleased.
Edmund smirked faintly and fished out a couple of the berries he’d picked.
"Here," he said, offering them up. "Everyone gets a share after a job. Even freeloaders."
Gastly made a happy little squeal and zipped forward, snatching the berries up in a swirl of mist. It gobbled them down in two dramatic gulps, then spun in a tight circle, releasing a little puff of happy fog into the air.
Edmund shook his head, smiling despite himself.
"Spoiled already," he muttered.
Gastly bumped against his shoulder lightly, making a soft, satisfied hum.
It was stupid, considering there were still hundreds of berries left untouched on the bushes.
Edmund winced as he jerked his arm too fast, his shoulder throbbing in pain. He shifted his box
The invisible eyes still watched from the trees. Edmund dipped his head slightly—half a nod, half a silent thanks—and turned back the way he came.
Gastly floated after him without a sound, drifting along at his side.
They made their way back to the edge of the…..dark forest. Edmund didn’t really know what to call it, so that’s what he named it in his head.
“I should head back home.” Edmund told him, half muttered.
“Gastly.” The Ghost Pokémon spun around like it had been doing before, but it was a bit slower, watching over him. “Gas.” It started floating away, though out of the forest.
Edmund furrowed his brow as realization dawned on him and he hurriedly caught up.
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t really have to.
Edmund knew that Gastly was escorting him safely out of the forest.
The walk back wasn’t fast.
Every step reminded Edmund how much his body hurt—the slow burn of bruises forming, the sting of cuts across his arms, the deep ache in his shoulder where the Poison Sting had hit him.
Gastly floated silently at his side the whole way.
Eventually, after what felt like an hour but was probably less, the trees began to thin for real.
When he glanced sideways, Gastly was still there, hovering a little behind him.
Edmund hesitated, not sure what he was supposed to say.
"Thanks, for everything.” he said after a second, trying to be nonchalant about it.
Gastly made a soft noise—not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh—and floated a slow circle around him.
Edmund smirked faintly and shook his head.
"You don’t have to keep following me," he muttered. “It’s probably not best that you get close to the city. People….don’t really like Ghosts.”
Gastly twirled once, then drifted back a few feet, still hovering at the boundary between forest and road.
“Gastly.” The Pokémon rolled its eyes as if to say ‘No shit, moron’.
Edmund’s lips twitched again, and once more, he found himself smiling.
The Ghost smiled back at him, and rather than some awkward goodbye, it slowly started to fade away, disappearing as ghosts often do.
Edmund started to head back home, taking to the actual road this time.
Hurt, bruised, bloodied and beaten.
But there was a strange pep in his step all the same.
@***@
A/N
MC’s first encounter with a friendly pokemon gave him a much needed push in certain directions. Also, I didn’t want to imply that every Pokémon utterly detested him, and he isn’t always a reliable narrator. The meowth back home hates him outright, treats him like a potential danger. Chansey was…neutral as she normally is. Perhaps even erring on the side of treating him well. For most pokemon, they simply won’t like him unless something bluntly changes that. And with Pokémon ,first impressions are important, which he usually won’t get past due to everything.
Comments
TOS SOT
I like gastlys and Hunters but I don't like Gengars. .-.
Mason Carter
I’m actually looking forward for more of this very nice
Hadrian512
Probably my favorite of your alts. It's completely different from your main story and most of your omakes are heavily similar to it. Could read this as it's own story honestly
Bishop7053
That ghastly is gonna keep following him now and just be a little shit whenever isn't he
Belly
Is it old habits or did he forget he has a semi rich family that can get him started? He's talking to the ghost about saving money and selling things, heck he almost got himself and probably that worker almost kill3d because of his old habits of "oooh something sketchy is going on, lemme go be nosy". Gonna assume he's gonna br surprised later when he does get Oaks approval not only Oak but his family is gonna start out and give him a lot of stuff. Also atleast you toned down his angst lol, like a lot of us said, very well written, but you were laying it pretty thick on his past.
Kz3838
Thank you for the double update, I'm enjoying the vibe of this story. Getting the feeling that he's going to learn how the world isn't out to get him? Or something similar. Regardless, I am very curious to see how his journey develops. Stay safe out there and keep up the good work!
gsgas
Thanks Asfo, now i need more pokemon.
