Linh stood by the graveyard's gates. He looked down, by his ankle was the Greavard that followed him. "How're you girl? Wanna meet up with your friends again?"
The Greavard, tail wagging, looked up and barked back, loud for her small size.
"Y'okay." Linh grinned, and pushed the gate open. "Just let me set the timer..." He fiddled with the phone in his other hand. Exposure to ghosts, especially candle-bearers like Greavards, inherently results in draining life force. Any human seeking to interact with them must keep track of time, and ensure they do not stay for too long, lest a ghost take what cannot easily be given back.
"Six hours, make them count." Linh told the Greavard, all stern like this would be the very last time they did this.
Greavard ran through the gates like a rocket, and Linh followed more subdued. His phone in his hands and the contact list on-screen. He tapped one name and typed out a small message—not received, like the ten before it.
As Greavard ran between the headstones and over the grass, her barks grew louder and louder, and were responded to with more barks and howls in the distance. From out between the grave dirt, candles uprooted, and little dogs wearing those waxy sticks ran forwards. From the shadows came orbs of sentient poison and discarded doll heads and horned figures—Ghastly, Misdreavus and Shuppets. And they all flocked forwards, greeting their returning family.
A little bit of Linh's mind skipped at that thought, like a record slipping on the groove.
Linh took the back seat, letting the Pokémon play. He sat well back, atop a square block near the centre of the cemetery.
To his eyes, the games the Greavard played together seemed very much like the sort of things that happens at a dog daycare. Lot's of chasing, faux-nipping, and the highly frantic behaviour of overstimulated dogs. The floating ghosts all joined in not through direct participation, but as a human would. Watching it all happen while gleefully encouraging the frenetic energy with thrown sticks, frisbees, small blobs of Ghost Type energy—too weak to be Shadow Ball, not windy enough to be Ominous wind.
As he watched, sitting with the timer on his phone and his coat wrapping around him tight, he thought to himself private thoughts. Things he would rather others did not know—although their temper revealed themselves with the imperceptible slouch of his posture, and the way he worried the sleeve of his sweater with his fingers.
"Awo?" Came a Greavards questioning noise, it was Linh's Greavard, sitting by his feet. She seemed concerned with his quiet.
"Oh, you’re worried about me?" Linh smiled, and pulled her into a side hug. "Flattering, but I’m just reflecting, letting my mind free-associate and dwell in the past. I’m… not sure the chain of thought I took—and it’s a convoluted one— but I remember one time, back in high school—drama class. We were doing this sort of play-acting activity. We go around the circle, giving out prompts for the next person to act out.
"There were some boring ones, and then there were some creative ones. As what happens when you have a bored group of early-teenagers all doing one task. The one I had to act out was ‘trimming a lion’s beard’ and the one before that, football.
"Mine? The one I gave to the next in line? Seppuku."
In a single instant, the candle atop Greavard’s head flickered, a blackened wick appearing within the fire.
Linh scratched his neck. "The teacher wasn’t very pleased with me. But it was what was on my mind. Not anything like actually doing it, but, the concept itself just fascinated me. Assisted suicide, wrapped up in the trappings of honour. Funny, that the disembowelled and headless corpse was pointed at and called honourable."
His gaze drifted away from Greavard, to the ghost’s playing in the distance. An observer set apart. "I suppose that’s just where my mind wanders, when it’s given leave. Circling around and around dark things. Death and the dead. Fear and the afraid. Spooky cryptids in the dark corners, and ghost stories told by campfire."
Greavard tilted her head, the confused-dog-head-tilt. She made a chuffing noise.
"Where am I going with this? I don’t know. I’m just sharing myself, I guess." Linh huffed. "It’s funny, people ask me how I’m doing, and I tell them that I’m reading about how shrunken heads are made, or about the labyrinths below France. And suddenly they’re no longer interested. Squicked out.
"Thanks for letting me ramble," Linh told Greavard. "It’s nice, to have someone listen to me." He patted Greavard’s side, and ruffled the fur, before gently pushing her out. "But don’t you want to be with your friends? You’ve kept me company enough these days. We’re here for you, remember? Go on, go play. I’ll still be here."
Greavard left him with a few quiet urgings, warm and promising. And this time he watched her leave and watched her play with the locals with the promise to himself to not fall away from the moment.
And he did not! Instead, he found himself fascinated by the strangeness of how the Ghosts played. As the day progressed, and the shadows grew larger. Greavards pawed at each others shadows, and the silhouettes writhed in response. The feint black shapes moving not with the sun but with strange ethereal energy. A game of shadow tag, if the shadows could leave the ground and reach out to others in grasping paws.
And, and there was another game—one which the floating ghosts terrified the Greavards with. It seemed to Linh that Ghost Type Pokémon can create illusions innately—fragile illusions, as even a shadow crossing near makes them fade away like a summer haze—and when they band together their illusions grow details and legs, moving and shifting more and more strange. The Gastly, Shuppets, and Misdreavus all banded together by species line and competed—who could make the scariest thing, and who could herd the most Greavard with it.
And then Linh's phone rang. Six hours at a goodly distance away—any longer, and he’ll start to experience a wild Haunts life drain. Any closer, and the time limit drops.
"Okay. Greavard!" Linh cupped his hands around his mouth, his voice made several Pokémon turn his way. "It's been six hours! Let's head home now!"
Nothing, no Ghost Pokémon came to him. Linh waited two more moments, fingers tapping against his leg. His arms came up a bit, then down again, hesitating to act before he was sure.
Some of the Greavards dug into the ground, reburying themselves so only their candles were above ground.
"I said the timer's up! I'm heading back now!" Linh raised his voice so it carried further.
Some more ghosts raised their heads to look at him, but his Greavard still did not come out. Linh scrunched his eyes closed, and hissed out a tiny breath.
"... That hurts." Not only because of how sudden it was. Linh turned, and walked away.
Things changed as he reached the gate, grave dirt caked on his shoes. A single wailing bark, chasing after him at full sprint. Linh turned, and there was his Greavard. She tackled his leg and sat on his shoe, head buried into the crook of his foot, where sock met leather.
"Hey girl." Linh smiled, heart beating just a little faster. "Guess you were too caught up to notice me, huh?"
Greavard shivered. It wasn't from the chill in the air.
"Or maybe... you were scared I was leaving you?" Linh knelt down, and gently pried Greavard up to look her in the face. He was reading fear from her expression.
Greavard nodded.
"Oh baby..." Linh pulled her to his shoulder, feeling her weight on him. "I'm sorry about that. I just thought you wanted to stay with your friends more then me. Let's go home now."
Linh left the graveyard with a ghost his shadow. The afternoon air cool against his skin, wrapped up warm with a tiny smile.
END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE
The second time Linh and Casket came to the graveyard, Linh did not bother to watch Casket play with her friends—he instead found a quiet corner along the cemetery wall. With slight grave desecration, as he was sitting against a headstone, and facing the brick wall.
A Greavard barked from behind him, Linh turned, and saw her watching him intently.
"Oh, hello girl." Linh patted the spot next to where he sat. "Here to check I'm not unfocused like last time? Sweet of you. Nah—I'm keeping myself grounded. Although, I am thinking dark thoughts."
At that admission, Greavard harrumphed, a sort of scoffing bark. And she jumped up to plant her stubby forelegs against him.
"Heh. No. I'm just thinking about Greavards. And how all of you are existing here. Wanna hear them? I don't think it'll be pleasant."
Greavard sat down politely, facing him. Her tongue slipped out and she panted dumbly. It was the same effect as a kid sitting cross-legged and going 'tell us a story Uncle X'.
"Precocious, well." Linh leaned further back, feeling the cool stone under his coat. "They say that Greavards are ghosts who formed from dogs, who lived and died without companions. This true?"
Greavard paused, then waggled her head from side to side.
"It depends? Then, you didn't live that, but others did? Or the other way around."
Greavard thumped the ground twice.
"My condolences, I am glad that it didn't happen to you. But also, they say that Greavards cannot truly control their life-draining nature. You have to absorb my energy, and cannot suppress it. All because you cannot extinguish it."
Greavard stared intently up at her own candle, and the blue flame atop it cut out. Smoke drifted from the charred wick.
"Well, that takes the wind out of my sails a bit." Linh said, nonplussed. "I was going to say that it seemed dreadfully cruel to me, that Greavards died lonely, and were reborn in such a way that they must not make friends. But if you can shut it off-" The candle re-lighted itself and Greavard heaved, soaking up air. "-Never-mind. Something that takes effort then?"
Greavard nodded at him, then bit onto his sleeve, and tried to pull him away from the lonely seat.
"Hold on now," Linh stuck up one finger, staring at the dirt intently. "I was building up to something—what was it..." He jolted, and pointed at Greavard, tone happy and vibrant. "That's right!
"Greavards suffer a cruel fate." He began, sharply dropping his voice all grim and foreboding. "One that’s repeated across every graveyard in Paldea, isn’t it? Born lonely, grew lonely, died lonely. And then life in the grave places, with only infrequent living guests. But I think your fate is crueller, somehow. Because; the others, they stayed when I left, didn’t they?" Linh continued. "They’re used to staying here. It’s their home, and they like visitors. But they know they can’t follow them out. You’re different. You followed me—you didn't want to stay here. This isn’t home.
"Am I right? Is this graveyard your home, or was there something else?"
Greavard stopped trying to get Linh to play with her, and nodded again.
Linh leaned forwards, "Where’s your home? Where did you live before you came here?"
Greavard paused, before sneezing. She did not meet Linh's eyes, and in fact seemed curt with her movements. Linh gestured vaguely in response.
"I'm sorry, sneezing isn't an answer. Try again!" He said, his tone airy, making light.
Greavard pulled her lips back and showed teeth before they stubbornly sealed together, and she turned around, pointedly not looking.
Linh pulled Greavard into his lap, hands loose on her. "C'mon. If you don't want to say you can not say. But I'm curious, and will remain curious."
Greavard growled to herself, all stiff and tense.
"I just want to know," Linh gently rubbed circles into Greavards fur, "Please?"
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
The Greavard gave a glare to Linh—the first she's done against him— and looked sharply to the brick wall before them. And Linh blinked as the shadow, his shadow, writhed and warped. Becoming thing's without a mirror in the real.
It became a black square that enshrouded the candle, and it rose and grew bigger. It shifted, and became a silhouette of a present on a table.
Two figures stood around it, tall enough that their heads clipped above the roof of the wall, their shoulders brushing the top.
A little figure came along, one in a dress. The girl opened the gift, and lifted up the ghost. Four legged, furry.
The scene shifted again. The girl and the candle, running and playing. The girl grew as it progressed. Going from tiny to small. And then, the girl was called in by a parent, standing at the door.
She collapsed halfway there.
The parents took her away, and chased the Candle out of their home.
The shadows fell away again, until Linh was staring at his own shadow, and feeling the furious vibrations of the dog in his lap. "Oh, girl..." He began sadly.
Greavard barked, harsh and brittle. And kept barking. She scrabbled out of his lap and moved away as Linh tried to touch her.
"I—I'm sorry I pushed you," Linh said, "I just wanted to know!" The justification sounded just as weak to him as it did to her.
Greavard snapped her teeth at him, and a bit of her shadow peeled up and slapped near him. Shadow Sneak—the move can disembowel a man if the user is strong enough.
Linh leaned away, even though the swipe formed, swung, and faded away before he could react. "Ah fuck." He took a step back. "Listen—girl-"
Greavard took a step forwards, a rumbling snarl as she advanced. Another swipe with her shadow, and suddenly Linh had to focus more on backing up then talking. Her chase was slow, dead slow. Nautical term for as slow as possible. Which meant that Linh had ample time to write an apology, try to start it, and then be struck silent by the frenetic violence restrained in Greavard.
It only stopped once Linh reached the graveyard's entrance, and he understood the finality of going through it. He turned, and spoke most urgently: "Greavard, I'm-"
The dog tackled him, full force against his torso, and he was knocked over the line. Tripping on his own feet and eating pavement.
The gate slammed behind him. Greavard stared out at him from between the bars, before slipping away into the shadows. Linh just sat there, thinking about what he's done.
"Shouldn't have pushed and pushed." Linh left the scene regretful. "Me and my stupid fucking brain. Can never leave well enough alone, can I?"
Linh came back to the graveyard to find the Ghosts kept their distance from him. Seems word has spread in the many days hence. At the place where he last met Greavard, there were a pile of things where he sat.
A broken collar. A dirty old ball. A ratty rope with knots at each end. And—in prime place—a bag of dog treats, empty, the cheerful face of a Growlithe warped by how the plastic was pulled apart.
Linh crouched down, puzzled. He reached out and—
—was immediately tackled in the side by Greavard. A wriggling ball of fur knocking him over, and prancing about on his stomach.
Linh made a very pained groan, as he tried to push himself back up. But Greavard could not be denied—even when standing on the dirt instead of trampling on every organ. She darted about, excited by Linh's presence.
"Okay! Okay! Down girl! What's got you so happy to see me?" Linh held his hands up, turning his head this way and that to watch. "Weren't you so very angry at me? Where'd all this come from?"
Greavard paused, then shot off to the pile, and came back with the dirty ball, she dropped it at Linh's feet.
"I don't, I don't understand."
Greavard watched him for a reaction, unsatisfied, she tried a long and knobbly stick.
"You want me to throw this? No?"
A smooth and shiny pebble.
"You—gifts? For me?" Linh squeezed his eyes shut, pained. "Baby girl, no. You don't need to do this. I hurt you. I should be the one apologising."
Greavard violently shook her head, putting her entire body into it. Long shaggy hair whipping.
Linh raised his hands helplessly. "What do you have to apologise for?"
Greavard extended her shadow up. A single paw held in the air, ready to swipe. She looked guiltily at it.
"Girl, please. Yeah, you did attack me—but it was aggravated. It can't possibly-"
Greavard barked, interrupting. She meaningfully jerked her head, towards the ghosts of the graveyard. They looked at Linh with judging eyes. They also looked at Greavard the same.
"...It does matter to them, and you, huh." Linh looked down at the pile of tribute she gave, and picked up the tennis ball. "Well, I accept your apology, and I hope you accept mine."
As Linh shoved the ball in his pocket, a tenseness in the atmosphere faded. A tiny mutual exhale from every one Pokémon.
Linh did not notice, "Girl, friend. Greavard. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I pushed you to tell me things you didn't want me to know. It is your right to privacy and i violated that. I have no excuse because I cannot excuse. I just hope that we can remain friends. Can we?" Although it hurt to say all of this, Linh forced himself to look at Greavard and nowhere else.
Greavard gave his apology as much weight as he did hers, and waited so patiently for him to finish. But the moment he stopped speaking she tackled him in the chest and gave many forgiving doggy kisses everywhere she could reach.
Linh accepted all of them with as much dignity as he could, then trapped her in a hug, her head in the crook of her neck.
"You're my friend." Linh whispered to her, his chin on her forehead. "I never meant to hurt you."
Linh walked away with a dog on his shoulders, behind him, cheers at the conciliation.
IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END
The graveyard gate slid open smooth, cool painted iron against an undead paw. A human hand held up the lock, but the dog pushed it and moved through first.
"Why are we back here girl? What do you want me to see?" Linh asked the Greavard, pleasantly taking in the fresh air. Greavard did not answer, she just waddled forwards with serious intent. No deviation to sniff the grass or rub against the stone or greet any curious ghosts.
Instead, a one track mind towards a curious corner, at the brick wall. And Greavard stopped before a gravestone, spun in her spot, and laid down.
Linh recognised this spot, he hurt Greavard here. "Oh, this will be a serious talk, then." He sat down as well, back against the cold stone, watching his own shadow. Very aware of the tension in his frame.
The shadows moved, Linh grimaced, and watched Greavard tell him a story.
The story began with a box, a table. Two parents, and a child. A gift, a Greavard, lifted up in the air by little hands, and hugged so dearly. The young girl’s first Pokémon. A starter.
But, the gift was a ghost, and ghosts are known to covet life. By the light of their candle, they grasp and pull. From the moment the lid was lifted, a little stream of shadow drew from the girl’s heart, feeding into the wick of the candle.
Through it was not seen—for fire casts no shadow—the intensity of the light drew forth the girls life, the flow thickening and thinning with Greavard’s own heartbeat.
Now, the parents were clever, they knew what they were doing! They knew the nature of ghosts. They forbade prolonged contact. And although the girl and her dog played and trained, ready for their journey. It was not for hours and hours, naught more then scant minutes each day. No more then an hour, two on weekends.
Yet, they underestimated the precociousness of the child, and the ingenuity of the dog.
They wanted to play more, and so they did. Through careful (to their mind) and cautious (to their mind) quick thinking, they snuck out, so often. The girl through the backdoor, when her father was out front, tending to the bushes. The dog through the gap in the fence, when the mother let her run around the yard. Then they went down to the big old river, and Greavard chased the duckletts on the riverbank.
It was not that the girl and the dog played and trained for an hour each day, but five. And that was enough for what would follow.
It was… Autumn, when it happened. When the leaves of the big oak tree would turn brown and fall, the big oak tree the girl and her mother sat under, reading stories together.
The girl was returning from their walk to the park, careful to be five minutes early. For she was a good girl, and obeyed what her parents told her. But as she walked past the old oak tree, and down the stone squares that made the path, she felt a shortness of breath. Her legs lifted slowly, like someone had tied her mother’s weights to one, and her father’s massive torso to the other. There was this blur at the edge of her vision, eyelids fluttering and eyes prickling.
Then she fell.
And she was caught again. Her parents knew the warning signs.
'Be more careful!' They said. 'Remember, you need time alone to be healthy!' They said. And neither thought anything of it beyond a correction.
But then the mother saw the little girl let the doggy in, and lifted her up to nibble at the bag of kibble. And then the father saw the candle habitually leap through the open window, instead of pawing at the door to be let inside.
If neither the daughter nor the dog could temper themselves, then they had to be separated, for good.
Greavard sat on the dirt, slumping down with tired bones. The grains of soil stirred with her snorting, sniffling breath. Linh cried with her, fingernails tilling the ground.
"Oh. It couldn't have ended any other way, could it?" He choked out. "Both of you were just having fun, and didn't see the danger you were causing."
Greavard wuffed, and Linh reached out, and dragged her into his side. She cried, not the ugly crying of overdrawn emotions, but the dripping rivulets of a long sad seeping away.
Linh hated to say this, but he felt he must. "Do you... Do you think you have changed? So this doesn't happen again?"
Greavard paused, as if the idea never occurred to her. And then she panicked, howling as she kicked the dirt, scampering away from Linh. Her candle blazed to roaring life, and Linh felt a twitch somewhere he couldn't name.
"Hey, hey!" Linh stood up quickly, hands held up in front of him. "No! I'm fine, look at me, see me! I'm still active, I'm awake, I'm standing up, see? I'm okay. You're okay."
Greavards breathing slowed as she watched Linh stand up and wave his hands around. He even did a little hop-kick. A 'see? Moving' half-dance. She barked, the blue flame shrinking and shrinking down to usual.
"It's okay." Linh held his hands low, and Greavard came close and let him brush down her fur, "It's okay. Remember, you can control your life-drain. Douse the candle, douse the danger. We can practise with it, 'k? First a little bit, then a little more. Until your only feeding for what you need. I'll be there, every step of the way."
Both calmed, both sat down. A certain emotional exhaustion to both motions. "... So, Greavard, is there anything else you want to say?"
Greavard looked up, and then shook her head. A single bark, no.
"Well. You want to play with your friends?"
No, she barked.
"I see. Wanna go home?" Linh stood up and stretched.
Greavard stood up, and followed him. All along the graveyard path, past the headstones, over the grave dirt, along the wall to the exit. Ghosts rose up to greet them, poking muzzles out of the dirt to sniff, and flitting out from the shadows to fly past them. Greavard this time reciprocated back, sniffing and licking muzzles, and leaping up and trying to bite at the fluttering bits.
Linh passed through the cemetery's entrance, the gate clinked shut behind him. He took two steps before he realised that Greavard wasn't following.
"Problem, girl?"
Greavard stuck her tongue out and panted aimlessly, so probably not. She turned to the right and moved sideways, behind the wall besides the gate. And before Linh could follow, curious, she returned. With a Pokéball in her mouth.
He watched as she gently put it down, and rolled it across the floor, under the gate.
It came to a stop at his feet, and he picked it up. "Oh, a gift? Thank you." He rolled the dirty and scratched up Pokéball in his hand, seeing the scuffed red plastic and the faded white. On its back was a little plaque, held by tiny screws and cast in bronze. A name tag. "Nice to put a name to a face, girl. It's nice to meet you...
"Casket."