The crowd thundered in excitement, screaming the names of the Pokémon trainers, encouraging the Trainers to battle their hardest. The stadium rumbled in anticipation for the coming fight. A metallic whirring sound revealed a stage, each on their respective sides of the field, rising from the ground, penetrating the exuberant night sky. An individual stood on each of the stages; these people were the Pokémon trainers. Reaching for a dual-colored sphere on their belts, the trainers threw the orb in the air. The sphere shimmered, and released a burst of red energy, quickly solidifying into the marvelous creatures known as Pokémon. The referee ran off of the field, assuming his position on the sidelines, and yelled, “Let the battle begin!”
Pokémon, or “pocket monsters”, are extraordinary creatures, capable of marvelous things. Researchers have discovered hundreds of species of these Pokémon, but there are many more yet to be discovered. People and Pokémon live together in peace and harmony. Some care for them, others study them and their mysterious characteristics, and many live and battle alongside them. These people are known as Pokémon trainers. Pokémon trainers capture and collect Pokémon, train with their Pokémon, and battle other Pokémon trainers. Some Trainers even aspire to become Pokémon Masters, but it is a long and hard journey, full of challenges and hardships. Among the many Pokémon trainers, there was one who had just started her journey at the age of sixteen. For all of her life, she dreamed of becoming a Pokémon Master, and, finally, her dream was about to unfold into a spectacular adventure.
A gentle beam of sunlight peeked into the still, quiet room through the open window. Light orange curtains swayed gently with the small, silent breeze. Figures of Pokémon were scattered across the floor, and plush Pokémon laid silently on the bed. A fragile bookcase held books upon books of countless genres: romance, mystery, adventure, comedy; much too many to count. The faint scent of flowers permeated from the window, as well as a distant chirping of songbirds and the playful yelling of children. On the windowsill, an alarm clock clicked to the next minute, 8:00, and started blaring a repetitive, and, perhaps slightly annoying, wake-up tune. The lump under the covers began to shift around, then let out a small groan. An arm reached over to the clock, and shut off the shrieking device. Satisfied, the arm went slack, and dangled off the bed.
A few minutes later, a stern, motherly voice yelled from downstairs. “Miranda! You better be up and ready! Today is an important day! You can’t be late, or you might not get your Pokémon!” shouted the voice. The mention of the word “Pokémon” made the lump in the bed sit straight up. The lump had short, cocoa-brown hair, and light skin. A mixture of blues and greens, not dissimilar to that of a clear, sparkling lake, sat on top of a small, button nose, sat on top of a wide smile. The lump had a slim frame,...