Years ago, my mother and father settled in an area far from civilization, choosing the location mainly for its abundance of fossils. They built a modest wooden house and raised my brother and I off of the land. We live on an outcrop in the sea of soft maroon rock that gently flows southward to Route 116. In the east, falling volcanic ash lays a white sheet over the landscape and dims the sun, providing a cool haven from the midday heat. In the southwest, dusk's amber rays filter down from the crevices of creamy rock and glitter off the cyan water of Meteor Falls. The northern sea mirrors the stars that my family and I watch at night.

When I was young, the sight of a traveler passing by filled me with joy and intrigue. I found it interesting to see new people, the things they brought, and the knowledge they carried. A few years ago, one such traveler constructed a house to the right of us. We treated our neighbor, Mr. Wilton, well. My older brother, Elliot, and I greeted him with freshly baked goods made with fruits from our garden. However, masked behind my actions was fear. That day, I realized word of this beautiful area would spread. I knew the way of life that we loved and were rooted in would be disrupted. Last evening, construction workers set up their tents to the right of our house.

Golden sunlight stung my tired eyes as I opened the bedroom door. I began walking to the bathroom and caught the smell of breakfast wafting from the kitchen.

“Take a look outside,” Elliot said as soon as he saw me. He was sitting at the table with pancakes and coffee in front of him. His long, black hair matched the frame of his glasses. The days he'd mined with my father had made him bulky. However, recently, he had been mining less frequently.

“Good morning to you too,” I replied jokingly. I peered out of the window. My heart sank as the blinding white light focused into a fleet of heavy machinery. Another steel colossus roared to life, snapping me awake.

“Sorry, good morning. The sound of the damn things woke me up and I couldn't get back to sleep,” he groaned.

“What are they going to do?”

“I haven’t asked,” he replied, taking a sip of coffee.

“You’d think they would have notified us about it. Let’s ask them after breakfast.” After I had taken a shower and eaten, we stepped outside and greeted my mother who was pulling weeds out of the garden. We walked to the east, making our way to the piles of materials and beeping of trucks. Our feet made soft noises on the stone, freeing small amounts of red dust into the crisp, blue sky.

“Hello?” Elliot called to a construction worker.

“’Morning. What can I do for you?”

“We've been wondering what you're going to do here. No one's told us about it.”

“Ah jeez, that’s terrible. I’ll notify my boss about that, we must have slipped up.” He gestured to the right of our neighbor's house. “Well, the Battle Tent and Pokémon Center will be there,” he moved his hand a bit lower, “The mart’ll be there,” he pointed to the far left of our house, “And there will be a few lakes over there, good for cooling off in. The construction should be finished in just a few weeks. Devon wants it completed quickly.”

“Why does Devon want to do this?” my brother asked.

“Well, they’ve decided turn this area into a resort. They're calling it 'Fallarbor'. This little place’ll have a decent population in a few years or so.”

“Alright, thanks,” Elliot said coldly. He was silent on the way home.

“Where have you two been?” my father asked when we had arrived. His tall, well-built figure seemed too large for our small house.

“We found out Devon is going to turn this into a resort town. They're building lakes, a mart, and the likes,” I said flatly. My dad's face fell before he forced on a smile.

“Maybe you two can catch a Pokémon of your own if they’re selling Poké Balls at the mart. If you need me, I’ll be at Meteor Falls.” My father had been mining fossils in Meteor Falls since before I was born. Fossils are rare encounters even here, but when he found one, it made his month. His optimism picked me up, and we carried on with our day.

It took me weeks, but I began to accept the inevitable and looked at the positives of the situation. The lakes were finished; Meteor Falls' rushing waters had made the job easy. It was a nice alternative to Route 113’s volcanic ash. However, I had been anticipating the day that the mart would open. Elliot and I had never left the small area we called home; everything we needed was here. As a result, we didn't have luxuries such as Poké Balls. 

It was mid-afternoon. Bluish-white light bled through the blinds and spilled onto the table that my brother and I were sitting at. A Masquerain buzzed on the other side of the glass.

“I’m going to try to get some Poké Balls and catch something. Want to come with me?” I asked.

"Sure. I’ll just watch," he replied. He still seemed down from the past few weeks. Our father entered the main room.

“Good afternoon,” my father said. “Your mother has fallen ill. Why don’t you two make her some lunch?”

“What? What does she have?” Elliot demanded.

“I'm not sure. It’s best not to worry about it. Her immune system is excellent, after all,” he replied. He must have been far more concerned than he let on. We entered our parents’ room and set a tray of food on the bed. The air felt hot and heavy.

“Oh, thank you.” She smiled. Her face seemed older, grayer. It was probably just the dim light.

“What’s wrong?” my brother asked worriedly.

“It’s just a fever,” she said calmly.

“When was the last time you were sick? I can’t even remember.”

“No matter, you should leave lest you catch what I have.”

“Alright. We know you’ll get better,” I said, leaving the room. We took our coats before exiting the house. I could see that the foundation of the Battle Tent had been completed. Far up the path on Route 113, a new house was taking shape. The mart's glass doors slid open as we approached. Thoroughly impressed, I walked to the counter.

“Welcome, how may I serve you?” the cashier asked.

“Hello, I’ll take ten Poké Balls.”

“Sorry, sir. We only sell Great Balls here. They have a higher catch rate. Ten will be 6,000 Pokédollars.”

“Interesting. Five Great Balls then,” I said as I handed the cashier 3,000.

“Here you go. Thank you very much, please come again.”

“Thank you,” I replied. We exited the mart. The low orange sun accentuated the frown on my brother's face. Before heading to Meteor Falls, we stopped by our neighbor's house.

“Hello Mr. Wilton,” I said.

“Well, hello, boys. What brings you here this fine day?” he inquired, a lighthearted smile on his face.

“I was wondering if you’d lend me one of your Pokémon for a bit so I could catch my own.”

“Well, certainly. Anything you need. It’s great that you want to embark on such a quest,” he said, handing me a Poké Ball containing a Skarmory.

“Thank you very much. I’ll be back soon,” I said as I exited the house.

 “Of course. Be sure to show me what you caught!” he called. We walked along the light maroon path leading to Meteor Falls. We put on our coats before entering an opening in the creamy rock. The cold, damp air was a refreshing contrast to that of the volcano's. Copper in the rock had oxidized due to the waterfalls, turning parts of the stone a minty green. Drops of water echoed as they fell from the ceiling. We walked deeper into the cave and went down a floor. Almost no light filtered through.

 As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I made out a Lunatone floating towards me. The red eyes encased in its luminescent, rocky body shone like rubies.

“Skarmory, Steel Wing!” I commanded. Skarmory rammed its metal wing into the curve of Lunatone's stone body. Bright, yellow sparks danced around in the darkness. The screech of steel on stone reverberated around the cave. One hit, and the Lunatone was dazed. I threw a Great Ball at it. After a few wobbles, the ball clicked shut.

“Nice. Didn't think it’d be so easy,” my brother said.

“Thanks. Are you sure you don’t want to try?”

“I’m good. Let’s get out of here.” We exited the cave, returned the Pokémon to an impressed Mr. Wilton, and walked home. It was almost dusk.

“Welcome back,” my father said.

“Hello. How’s mom doing?” I asked.

“She’s been in bed all day. She didn't eat the lunch either,” he sighed. “What did you catch? I overheard you talking about catching a Pokémon.”

“Lunatone. Mr. Wilton lent me his Skarmory.”

“Great job. That’s a good match up. I can teach you a bit about Lunatone,” he replied enthusiastically.

“I’ll take you up on that,” I said, smiling. I felt genuinely happy for the first time in weeks.

Lunatone and I trained on Route 114 for the next three days. The dry heat exhausted both of us. To my family's great relief, my mother had recovered from her ailment. Today, Lunatone and I were strong enough to beat any Skarmory in the cool, grey shade of Route 113. Spinda, Slugma, and Sandshrew posed no threat. Happy with our achievement, I returned home and opened the door to find that no one was in the main room. Suddenly, I heard a splatter followed by coughing from my parents’ room. Inside, I found my father and Elliot. A pale, bony figure was convulsing over a bowl of dark blood and stomach fluids. Mother turned to look at me with sad, yellow-tinted eyes and sickly skin. My brother was completely still, and my father was crying for the first time I’d seen. His tears merged with the dark vomit that was splattered on his face.

“What happened?” I asked shakily.

“We found her like this…just a few minutes ago. She seemed so well. It came back hard…somehow,” my father replied, grasping for words.

“Please, leave. I don’t want any of you to catch this. I love you,” my mother rasped. I brought her a clean bowl and water. Elliot wouldn't leave the room for a while, but he eventually gave in to her pleading. We called a doctor. He said we couldn't do anything but keep her hydrated and offer food. For a week, I trained Lunatone each day to keep my mind busy until I took care of my mother in the evening.

My brother and I were playing chess this evening when we heard a horrible retching noise. We immediately rushed to my mother. The stringy, black vomit in the bowl and on the sheets seemed to be greater than her body mass.

“Go. Leave,” she rasped between her convulsions.

“We love you,” I said weakly.

“GET OUT!” she cried. We left the room, unable to do anything. After a short time, the sounds of agony ceased along with her heart; it had no blood left to pump. None of us could sleep that night. We buried her in the garden and mourned. As we silently piled the dirt back on her grave, I began to feel feverish. My head and back throbbed. I collapsed onto the dirt.

The next few days were hell, not because it felt like I was burning alive, but because I could make out the shape of Elliot in the bed next to me. I could do nothing but watch him and myself slowly die. My father brought us water and food. The day after, he didn't appear. Everything was blurry and dark. The air was thick with humidity and the smell of sickness. My eyes were crusted shut. It felt like I was drowning in the putrid, molasses-like air. Suddenly, the veil of sickness was lifted from me. My muscles had wasted away. I struggled to bring my brother fresh food and water. When I entered my parents' room to aid my father, I found no one was there.

Fresh, gristly vomit and waste covered the sheets. Everything else appeared to have been cleaned. The powerful smell of chemicals filled my nostrils. Too exhausted to move any more, I collapsed on the floor of the kitchen and slept. After a few lethargic, blurry days, my strength began to return and Elliot’s illness passed. Today, we felt strong enough to walk. We stepped outside and the brightness blinded us for a few minutes. I realized we hadn't seen light for days. We walked to Mr. Wilton’s house under the grey early morning sky. Our garden was decaying from neglect. The Battle Tent to the right of Mr. Wilton’s house was had been completed.

"Hello. Mr. Wilton?” I called.

"Oh, thank goodness you kids are alright,” he said with relief. “Devon wouldn’t let us leave our houses for the past few days. They said we would get deathly ill if we went outside. I heard about what happened to you. Thank God you two are alive. My prayers go to your mother.”

“Thank you,” I said, suppressing the memories. "Where is Devon now?”

“I suppose they left. Just last night, they told me they’d taken care of the problem. I shouldn’t be speaking about it. They kept warning us not to.”

“My father isn’t at our house. Do you know where he might be?”

“Oh dear. No, I don’t. I can help you boys look.”

“We’ll do it ourselves,” my brother replied.

“Alright. Let me know when you find him, would you?”

“Of course. Thank you for your help,” I said, exiting the house. Elliot’s face was contorted in an expression of pure rage. We searched Route 113. The assistant in the glass workshop had seen Devon exit the town. He told us they had gone past his workshop in a rush while he was out collecting ash. After finding that all the townspeople that would talk knew more or less the same thing as Mr. Wilton, we headed to Meteor Falls and ventured into the dim cave. My Lunatone illuminated an obscure, out of reach stalagmite at the base of a waterfall. It had pierced through my father’s now frail, bony chest with ease. His yellow eyes were glazed over and bloodshot. The eager, carnivorous stream pushed forward on his stubborn corpse. It wouldn't budge. Impatient, the water had already begun eroding it's soft, yellowish skin. Elliot gagged, his face now a mix of anger and depression. We quickly made our way out of the cave, unable to recover the remains of our father.

My brother isolated himself in the house for the next two months. I attempted to talk to him, but he rarely responded. In the evening, I watched the television I’d recently purchased from the mart. One day after training on Route 113, I came home to find that a tunnel about twenty feet deep was burrowed straight through the main room’s wall and into the maroon rock behind it. Elliot was inside. The Pokémon next to him was making quick work of the soft rock.

“What the hell is this?” I asked, dumbfounded as to why he would tear down the wall.

“I’m mining for fossils,” he replied, smiling.

“Alright,” I said, still perplexed. I figured his way of dealing with the tragedy was to continue our father’s legacy. At least he was happy now; all I had wanted for the past few months was to see him happy. I stopped myself before asking why he wasn't mining in Meteor Falls. “Where did you get that Pokémon?”

“It’s an Anorith.” He gestured to a machine. “A man dressed in red gave me this in return for use of our father's Dig TM. It can resurrect fossils such as Anorith's.”

“That’s amazing,” I said, awestruck.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it,” he replied. I tacked some boards around the entrance to hide the ripped wall. It didn't do much, possibly making it look worse than before. Later in the day, a white-haired boy entered our house looking for the man in red. Elliot continued to excavate the cave. The cabinet that encased my father's already plentiful rock collection was now completely full. Fossils consumed more of his time with each passing day. He became secluded, not letting anyone into the cave, and not coming out. I began to fear talking to him as he snapped into a rage so easily.

I started training on Route 115; 113 was no longer a challenge. Sounds of the deep, sparkling, blue waves crashing onto the crisp, white sands merged with the cries of Wingull. The tall, white walls of Meteor Falls loomed over the lush forest that engulfed the route. Pokémon diversity there was amazing. It would keep my mind busy for some time. I returned home after another day on 115. As usual, Elliot was nowhere to be seen. However, the entrance to the chasm was completely covered with wooden planks. I shouted to him through a crack in the boards.

“Hey there, sonny,” a worker replied as he piled rocks into the cave. “Tha kid that was diggin' here had to leave. This here is a grade-A safety hazard. We’re fillin’ it in.”

“Ah. Do you know where he went?” I asked nervously.

“Not a clue.” My brother’s love and joy had been destroyed. I needed to talk to him. I asked the townsfolk, but no one had seen him. I searched for him until the sky turned a royal purple streaked with amber. Feeling defeated and anxious, I returned home and lay down in my bed.

Every day, I heard more reports of people disappearing. The new residents began to leave the town, and the steady stream of tourists dried up. The police furiously scoured every inch of Fallarbor for the missing, but to no avail. The permanent residents began to lock themselves inside, but I had to continue searching for my brother; he was all I had left. I decided to go back into Meteor falls. The police had already searched it twice, but I couldn't leave the well-being of my brother up to them. I got my jacket and stepped inside the cold, dark cave, my Lunatone illuminating the way. Methodically, I checked every crevice of the slippery, grey stone. There were no remnants of my father. I thought I could still smell the faint stench of decay, but convinced myself it was my imagination.

We descended to the second floor. It was pitch-dark and the air was harder to breathe. Lunatone was doing all it could to brighten the surroundings, but I could hardly see. I called for my brother, knowing it was hopeless. As I stumbled in the darkness, a stalagmite caught my leg and I plunged into the rapid, dark waters running through the cave. I grabbed for land desperately. Going over a waterfall here meant certain death, as I well knew. I caught hold of rock and pulled myself up onto solid ground. I coughed out the swallowed water and took a deep breath of air. The smell of rot caused me to choke again; it couldn’t be my imagination. The nervous Lunatone floated over to where I was, illuminating a tunnel. It was the only way to go. The fierce water of the river surrounded the land I was on. As I made my way through the cramped tunnel, I saw dim, artificial light emanating from the end of it. The stench of waste and decay was enough to make me feel lightheaded. Moans and garbled cries of agony echoed on the tunnel’s damp walls. Silently, I looked around the corner at the end of the tunnel and froze, unable to look away.

A bare light bulb was hanging from the ceiling, illuminating lumps of flesh and bone. Some had mouths, organs, limbs, and faces, but none were whole. The ones that could move were kept in makeshift cages. I looked around and recognized the features of townspeople that had disappeared. My father’s deformed head lay on the ground, caved in as if it had sustained a heavy blow. Below the head it had a minuscule body whose skin was stretched thin to a breaking point by it's oversized skeleton. I heard someone anxiously adjust a few knobs and press a button. A mechanical whirring filled the cave. My brother pulled out another mess of biomass from the fossil machine. It had my mother’s features. He must have taken the bones from her grave. It's face was that of a child’s. The body was fully developed, but wrinkled. Its extremities were inverted, and the wet skin rippled as If something was trying desperately to get out. I couldn’t help but throw up. Elliot turned around and looked me in the eyes.

“Hello, brother,” he said.

“What..?” I stammered, grasping for words.

“They destroyed Fallarbor and our family,” he gestured to the moaning organisms. “I used them to help calibrate the machine so I could bring mother and father back. They wanted to fix what they'd caused.” My shock turned to fury.

“They did nothing. You destroyed and disgraced our parents. You could never bring them back you fucking inhuman piece of shit!” Elliot’s face twisted into an expression of torment. He looked at his surroundings, then to me. His crazed, bulging eyes flashed to a look of horror and emptiness. We stared at each other. Tears silently rolled down his cheeks. My brother slowly turned around.

“We can try to fix this…” my voice croaked. Elliot wrenched his head down, shattering his own skull on a dull stalagmite.

Blinded by tears, I followed my Lunatone out through an exit tunnel that was connected to the room, carrying my brother's corpse. I hurried back to my house in a daze of confusion and depression. Many days passed. Traumatized by what had happened to my family, I didn't talk to anyone for some time. Gradually, people gained enough confidence to return and enjoy Fallarbor. I associated too much pain with the town to stay there myself. However, before moving to Fortree, I needed to remove any reminders of what had occurred.

I walked along the red path that I knew so well. Grey smoke from the neighboring volcano billowed overhead. I entered Meteor Falls and made my way through it, blocking out everything besides my task. I plunged into the black waters and powered through to the slimy ledge. My Lunatone used Rock Slide, collapsing the horrendous adjacent room and it's entrances. We exited Meteor Falls and made our way to the house. I repaired the broken wall, cleaned the rooms, and packed my belongings. Before departing, I removed the old sign in front of our home that had been there for as long as I could remember. It read, 'Fossil Maniac's House’.

This is my first Creepypasta as well as the first story I’ve written in years. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

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