Since I've No Place to Go [Winter Carnival Heartwarming Story]

[Kentucky Fried Torchic]

Since I've No Place to Go

Aside from the soft whistle of the howling wind and the scrabble of claws on icy pavement, the town square was quiet. The snow was coming down hard and fast, and it was not even midnight yet. Tomorrow would be a day of delight for the settlement’s children (and consternation for its adults), but until then almost all were satisfied with hunkering down and enjoying whatever warmth could be obtained from a close embrace, a roaring fire, or a nip of a warm drink.

The one exception was the lone Pokémon walking the cobblestone streets of the town. He was a Charmander, and a particularly emaciated one at that. But even though a few ribs were showing through the skin of his tan underbelly and he shivered from the onslaught of frozen air, his mouth was pulled back into a soft smile.

For most Pokémon, walking around outside of this weather wearing just a ratty blue scarf would have been an exercise in utmost stupidity, but for a Pokémon who carried an internal source of heat, such a frosty climate was bearable, although not particularly enjoyable. The little Charmander would have been more comfortable if his flame was stronger, but the fire that burned at the end of his tail was feeble. It always had been unimpressive, it seemed, but with each gust of icy wind the light flickered, and the blaze struggled to maintain its hold on the young Pokémon’s appendage, no matter how much the Charmander tried to shield it with his hands.

Another few snowflakes penetrated through the reptilian creature’s defenses and melted on his tail flame. Short hisses that were inaudible over the wind accompanied their impact and accompanying clouds of steam rose up only to be lost in the white vapor coming out of the Charmander’s own mouth. Most of the time the snow tickled his scaled body, but when it hit his flame the Pokémon felt like he had been pinched. The pain almost caused his smile to falter, but then the young fire-type reminded himself that he would only have to knock on a few more doors tonight and then he could go home. His soft smile strengthened minutely, even if the thought was only a wish rather than a reality.

Although very young, the Charmander already had been given a job. On cold evenings, especially ones like tonight, he would walk from door to door and offer to light a fire for the Pokémon inside in exchange for a few coins or some food. Then the payment would go back into his pouch and it was back out into the night air to find the next costumer. It was not a particularly fun kind of work, but he was helping to provide for his family and that was important. Plus, being able to help other Pokémon felt nice to do, and the warmth from stepping inside their homes for a few minutes was not bad either!

So far tonight, however, he had not had much luck. There had been a small rise in business before suppertime with fire being in high demand for cooking. The Charmander lost himself for a moment in memories of stews, roasts, and a dozen other dishes that he had had the privilege of smelling. The Pokémon who had no need for his business because they had already begun preparing their meals tended to have the best aromas of all. The thought of those carefully crafted feasts made the stale crust of bread in his stomach feel awfully lonely, but the Charmander did his best to ignore that empty feeling. Instead he rose up to his full unimpressive height and knocked quietly on the door he had been walking to.

After the first uncertain week, the pattern that he had been taught had become etched in his muscle memory. Knock three times in short succession, count to ten in your head, knock again, count again, then move onto the next one. When there was no answer (as was the case with this house), it was very easy work, but it also meant no payment or warmth. When there was an answer at the door, however, that was when the work got interesting.

The sound of his fist on the wood was lost to the wind. No one answered, so the Charmander counted to ten inside of his head, as he had been trained to do, and then knocked again. Shortly after he was halfway through his second count, the door cracked open just an inch. It was open only long enough for the orange-scaled Pokémon to open his mouth, slamming back shut before he could make a sound. He did his best to savor the small amount of heat that he had felt rush out of the portal before it closed, and then the Charmander set off down the street to the next house.

After there was no answer at the next house and he continued walking, the fire-type Pokémon thought. Maybe it was the weather that had Pokémon so reluctant to keep their doors open long enough to hear his pitch, let alone welcome him inside? Or perhaps there was another Pokémon doing the same job he was, a Growlithe or something, and they were much better at it? The Charmander tried to get angry at that last thought. One of the things he had been told before he started working was not to let any other Pokémon take away his business, even if they were Arceus Himself. Instead of fury, however, the young Pokémon felt empathy. No one but the children doing it had any idea how unpleasant selling fires was, especially on a night like tonight. If there really was another Pokémon in the same line of work, the Charmander hoped that he had finished up for the night and was nice and warm somewhere. He came close to wishing that for himself, but held the desire at bay.

For one thing, you had to gauge your audience. A kindly old Clefable with a roomful of her children behind her requires a different pitch than a surly Machoke who reeks of liquor. That meant a different tone, a different kind of body language, and a different level of aggression. Well, at least in theory. In practice, the Charmander had noticed that he seemed to have only one setting: meek. So while he was more often than not able to get a sympathetic ear from the Clefable, the Machoke dismissed his endeavors out of hand. It was a source of enduring disappointment for his employer that he lacked “the killer instinct”, but the Charmander was not sure that he wanted that. Still, he had been trying to act a little more proactive, more confident in himself and in his fire lately, and maybe that would-

The fire-type’s musings were cut short as he caught sight of another figure in the snow. It was a towering shape that seemed to be wider than it was tall, but the veil of snow that the wind was whipping up prevented any of its features from coming into view. At least, that was what the Charmander thought he had seen. Blinking his large blue eyes rapidly, the young Pokémon unshielded his tail to rub frantically at his eyes. More snow fell on his tail and the resulting brief but painful stings seemed to snap him out of whatever daydream he had fallen into. Of course, there wasn’t anyone else out here! That was just silly! It was far too cold for anyone to be out wandering around unless they had a very good reason to be. The Charmander’s stomach rumbled quietly and that was all the rationale he needed to keep trudging through the now-ankle-deep snow.

The next door that he knocked on went unopened, as did the next three. Perhaps there was no one else up at this late hour. Since the equinox the days had been getting shorter and shorter and the nights darker and darker, so it made sense that more Pokémon would be asleep. If everyone was asleep, then maybe he could go to bed too.

The Charmander huddled underneath the meager protection of one home’s awning and lowered his pouch off of his shoulder onto the blanket of snow that had covered the ground. His initial attempts at opening the clasp were fumbling and unsuccessful, but after warming his hands with a short burst of fire from his mouth, the Charmander was able to open the bag and examine his collection of payments secured this evening. His initial fire of hope at the thought of going home and getting out of the cold dwindled to a few feeble embers when he took in the paltry contents of his bag. There were a few bronze coins and even one made out of silver that was so cold that it almost burned his scaled hand when he touched it. The majority of his payment had come in the form of food, namely jars of preserves made from berries harvested in the fall and anemic loaves of bread.

It was not enough to go home with, not by a fair bit. Maybe he would only get a short beating for not selling enough fires and then he could go to sleep. Or he might get sent back out into the cold, all that time spent walking home and then back wasted. The Charmander did not want to chance that. It was cold already and getting colder, as it had been ever since the sun set. He would try a few more houses, maybe two more blocks, and then he would start heading back. If his employer was sleepy enough, the older Pokémon may not notice that the pouch was light, or his anger might be tempered by exhaustion. It never hurt to hope.

Before he could steel himself to leave his inadequate shelter, the Charmander was hit by the result of his own exertion and leaned backwards against the unforgiving wooden door he had last knocked on. The saurian Pokémon let his body sink down to the ground, although he was careful to take his tail in hand so that its life-giving flame would not be doused in the snow. He had been up since before dawn, and in all likelihood, he would be waking up around the same time tomorrow. That much exhaustion was worth a rest, even if it was only taking a few minutes off of his feet to sit on a doormat buried in ice, slush, and freshly fallen snow.

His lower body was almost completely submerged in snow, but given that he was now being shielded from the worst of the wind, it was not the worst feeling in the world. Still, in order to keep warm, the Charmander had to carefully tend to his tail flame, shielding it from the falling snow and trying to invigorate it with short breaths of air. His attempts were frequently interrupted by wet coughs that seemed to wrack his small frame, but the fire kept burning, albeit without much confidence. As he sat, the young Pokémon tried to ignore how tired and cold he felt by thinking of a better time, a time before he had to work for a living.

Back then, he had been staying with his older brother. The Charmander looked up to his sibling, even now after not seeing him for so long. But how could he not? After all, he had actually evolved, growing past the soft and rounded form of a Charmander into the more angular and mature form of a blood red Charmeleon. Being so much older and stronger, it was only natural that the eldest member of the duo would work to protect his little brother, providing for and protecting them both. He had been everything that a guardian should have been, so unlike the Charmander’s current one.

As the snow fell, he wondered where his brother was now.

It was really coming down now, as if someone had torn the sky open. From inside of a warm home the scene undoubtedly would look magical, a rolling sea of white illuminated only by the few rays of moonlight that had penetrated through the clouds and a small flame carried on a young Pokémon’s tail.

The Charmander awoke with a start, shaking off snow from all over his body. In the quiet and the cold, he had drifted off into sleep like it was a mother’s embrace. He was almost completely numb now with only his head and the end of his tail now being submerged in the frozen blanket. As he rose to shaking, uncertain legs, his mind wrestled between going home and dealing with the consequences of coming up short again or trying to brave the elements for a while longer. The bread and other food he had scrounged was likely hardened beyond edibility due to their impromptu refrigeration, and if the Charmander did not have his own food to eat, he simply would go without. But he had been hungry before, and he had survived.

His mind made up, the young fire-type was about to head back to the place he had been staying since he found himself on his own when he saw the figure again. As it drew nearer, its features became more defined. The towering Pokémon was a Snorlax, lumbering ceaselessly through the maelstrom of wind and icy debris as if it wasn’t even there. Even if he had not been chilled to the bone and staving off collapse, the Charmander would not have adopted the hostile stance that many of the other children who worked on the streets assumed when encountering a stranger. He was still trusting, no amount of deprivation had been able to take that away yet, and besides the much larger Pokémon wore a simple smile on his face as he walked. How could it be anyone be afraid of it?

“Hello,” the Charmander attempted to say, but it was snatched out of the air by the wind. He waved instead.

The Snorlax drew nearer and nearer, its face never changing from its static portrait of simple-minded amusement. When it had come close enough that it had to duck underneath the awning that was sheltering the smaller Pokémon, it offered out its massive hand. Without thinking, the Charmander reached up and took the proffered paw and followed the blue-black-furred Pokémon out onto the street.

It was cold and the Charmander felt like every step he took would be undone, and then some, by the heavy headwind. But as long as he remained attached to his mysterious guide, the bulky creature would pull his walking companion out of the snow and forward along the path they were treading together.

“Where are we going?” the Charmander shouted to be heard over the rushing elements. When the effort made his throat clench and another coughing fit ensued, the Snorlax stopped his colossal strides and waited for the little orange-scaled creature to recover. But still he did not answer, merely resuming his impressive pace as soon as the Charmander appeared to be alright.

The obscuring snowfall somehow seemed to lighten as the unlikely pair rounded the corner and left the main street behind. The young Charmander wracked his brain for potential destinations, which he offered as soon as he thought of them: “The caves? The beach? Wigglytuff’s Guild?” But each guess was met with the same not-unfriendly indifference from the Snorlax.

The answer came soon enough when the duo entered a clearing that was marked with an array of strange structures, the bright and multifarious coats of paints of which were almost completely whited out by the thick layer of snow heaped aboard the assembled roofs, platforms, and railings.

Even in the cold, the Charmander’s eyes burned bright. He had been here before, in a different lifetime it seemed. He let go of his silent guide’s hand and flitted about from place to place, inspecting the construction and wiping off the snow of the playground’s most impressive attractions. Seized by a sudden burst of energy, the young Pokémon bolted up the ladder of the tallest slide in the park and threw himself down its cold incline, an orange sunburst in the world of white snow. He cleared the snow off of the slide and landed with a soft whumpf in the collected pile at its foot, all while the Snorlax looked on benevolently.

In spite of himself, the fire-type was laughing, delighted in the underappreciated miracle of the slide being just as fun as when he had ridden it last, over a year ago. He got out of the snow, brushed the lingering slush off of his scaly skin, and then looked around for what he should do next. The Mankey bars were probably a bad idea, but he had a better idea already. Trudging doggedly through the snow, the Charmander made his way past the half-buried seesaw over to the modest swing set on the edge of the playground and began clearing the seat of snow.

After he had clambered into the swing, the Charmander realized that he had a problem: his feet did not touch the ground. If he wanted to swing, he would need help. Before the request had even finished being concocted in his mind, the Snorlax was there behind him. The massive normal-type placed one of its swollen paws on his back and pushed the younger Pokémon up into the air. The Charmander kicked out his legs during his ascent and retracted them when his altitude declined, just like he had been taught, and this time-honored technique, aided only slightly by some more assistance from the Snorlax, saw the saurian youth flying higher than he had in a long time. The cold and poverty of life on the ground was left behind when he was in the air. Maybe someday, he thought before the dream could be tempered, I’ll be a Charizard and then I can fly forever.

Hard as it was for him to believe it, swinging eventually lost its luster and the Charmander ceased his efforts and let the simple elementary forces of nature return him to his initial starting point. Now that he was not lost in that feeling of weightlessness and freedom, the cold and the exhaustion came creeping back into his body. He continued to swing there half-heartedly, but the totemic power of the swing set had vanished.

The Charmander attempted to put those discomforts out of his mind by returning to the quiet Pokémon that was his only company. “Why did you take me here?” he asked.

The Snorlax said nothing, only tilted his head at an angle to show curiosity.

“Who are you?” When that did not work, the Charmander tried once more, this time asking, “Why are you out here?”

This time, the Snorlax began to lumber away from the playground and away from the Charmander.

He had made it several yards away when the smaller Pokémon realized what was going on and leapt off of the swing in hot pursuit. “Wait, I’m sorry!” the Charmander gasped as he stumbled through the snow. The wind had picked up again and wet globs were stinging his eyes as he struggled to follow the Snorlax as the giant creature was hidden behind a renewed cloak of white. “I’m sorry!” the young fire-type shouted again, and then slipped and fell into the surface of untouched alabaster snow.

He was shivering fiercely now, and his ears were ringing from the bellowing wind. The wretched youth was almost buried in the snowbank he had fallen into, and his tail flame flickered dangerously from its perch. Then something broke through the haze of snow, the welcome paw of the Snorlax. The Charmander took it and felt himself lifted off of his feet and into the air by the larger Pokémon.

“I’m sorry,” the Charmander tried to say again, but the sound barely made it past his chattering teeth. The Snorlax smiled though, and that made him smile too. Still holding the Charmander’s hand, the Snorlax lifted the young Pokémon up and enclosed him in a big hug, wrapping the Charmander up so tightly in his burly arms that the fire-type barely felt the wind or the cold anymore. He still felt tired, however, and his large eyes fluttered once and then were closed tightly as he slipped into dreamless slumber.

The Happy Ending

Spoiler:

When the Charmander awoke, he noticed something strange: he was warm. He sat up from the surprisingly comfortable bed of straw that he found himself in and looked around. He was in a room that appeared to have been carved out of solid rock, but still possessed a small window through which bright winter sunlight was streaming in. The entrance of the room was delineated with a small curtain and the Charmander was not alone. A Bidoof was standing by the portal, shifting nervously back and forth on his paws.

“Golly! I thought you were going to sleep all day, yup yup!” the brown-furred Pokémon said in a single breath.

The Charmander cleared his throat before asking, “What is this place?”

The Bidoof seemed more than happy to explain, “Why this is Wigglytuff’s Guild! The place to be if you want to learn how to be an explorer, I reckon!”

After he got onto his feet, carefully keeping the strident flame on his tail from torching the straw mat, the Charmander asked another question, “How did I get here?”

“Oof, that’s probably what you wanted, yup yup. Our sentry… Why he’s a Diglett, so he can sense disturbances in the earth, and he raised an alert that there was some Pokémon on the guild’s doorstep, and that Pokémon was you! Loudred said that you looked to be in pretty bad shape, plus it was mighty cold out there, so we put you up for the minute.” The Bidoof appeared to realize just how much he had said without letting the other Pokémon get in a word, and he nervously asked, “Was that alright?”
The warm smile that lit up the Charmander’s face was all the answer that he needed.

“Golly, I’ve seen tumbleweeds with more meat on them than you!” the normal-type exclaimed suddenly. “Follow me, our cook will get you filled up, yup yup!”

The two of them were walking down the hallway into the main section of the subterranean level when the Charmander remembered something. “Did your sentry say anything about a Snorlax?”

“A Snorlax?” the Bidoof asked. “I didn’t hear anything about a Snorlax, and I reckon a Pokémon that big would definitely be picked up by our Diglett, yup yup.”

His hunger forgotten, the Charmander rushed to the ladder leading to the outside and climbed up as fast as he could. The other Pokémon followed as best he could, shouting questions after the frantic fire-type.

The Charmander did not know where his feet were taking him, but he trusted his instincts as he stepped outside. While the night before had been bitter and unforgiving, in the daylight the world around Wigglytuff’s Guild looked like a winter wonderland. The rolling banks of snow were populated with Pokémon young and old playing games and laughing. But there was no Snorlax among them.

With the Bidoof hot on his heels, the Charmander headed for the park where he had played with the mysterious Pokémon only hours ago. His intuition appeared to pay off at first, as, sure enough, there was a large Snorlax standing by the swing set. On closer inspection, however, the Snorlax was made out of snow. Still, the Charmander would have recognized the easygoing smile on his wide face anywhere.

Heedless of the snow, he ran up to one of the children, an Amaura, playing near the frozen statue. “Excuse me,” the Charmander said, “but did you see who built this snowmon?”

The long-necked Pokémon looked at the Snowlax for a second before she said, “Sorry, it was there when I woke up. Someone crazy must have been out and built that guy last night.”

She went off to rejoin her friends, and the Charmander was left staring up at the sentinel of snow.

He was snapped out of his fugue when the Bidoof gently nudged him with his furry bulk. “How about we go back to the guild and get some food in you?” he asked softly. “You can stay with us for a while, yup yup, I’m sure of it.”

As they began their trek back to warmth and shelter, the normal-type chuckled to himself, “Who knows, maybe you can even be a guild apprentice!”

The Sad Ending

Spoiler:

The next morning a small contingent of Pokémon were gathered in the park murmuring amongst themselves, shocked at the sight before them.

“My little girl woke up and says she saw this right before she was about to start playing,” a severe-looking Aurorus squawked. “How am I supposed to explain this to her!”

Next to her, a Manectric growled, “Where were the parents?”

“I knew this little one,” a Clefable said excitedly to her friends, and they bobbed their heads in unison. “He was always such a sweet little thing, poor little dear, but I never knew!”

Off to the side of the children’s playground, just a few feet beyond the swing set, stood a giant Snorlax made entirely out of pristine white snow. That was not the cause of the commotion, however. That stemmed from the presence of orange in the midst of the white, a young Charmander caught in a frozen embrace that he would never escape from.

Though they never could figure out how the deceased had managed to sculpt the arms holding him from his position and whisperings would continue for the next week or so, none of the Pokémon who witnessed the tragic scene could deny that, judging from the smile on his face, the Charmander at least had died happy.

[Suicune's Fire]

There were a few bronze coins and even one made out of silver that was so cold to the touch that it almost burned his scaled hand when he touched it.

Because you said "cold to the touch" already, there's no need for "when he touched it" at the end.

the Charmander made his way past the half-buried seesaw over two the modest swing set on the edge of the playground and began clearing the seat of snow.

Should be "to" not "two."

“I knew this little one,” a Clefable said excitedly to her friends, and they bobbed their heads in unison.

It's weird to me that she would be excited about it... xD Shouldn't she be horrified instead? Or sad?


That poor little charmander. :( What a terrible little life he had. I bet he would get a lot of nos, especially since fire types wouldn't be hard to come by, or even pokemon who have access to fire type moves. Then there are also lighters. It's sad that his employer is abusive as well. I wonder where his brother went, if he was the provider and then just up and vanished. :c

I think the sad ending is a nice way to end it. Sort of heartwarming in a sad way. But I also like the happy ending, haha. How curious about the Snorlax! It does make me wonder. :3

Anyway, great job! :D Definitely heartwarming, but also really sad. Nice story!

[Kentucky Fried Torchic]

Because you said "cold to the touch" already, there's no need for "when he touched it" at the end.
Should be "to" not "two."

Ack! Thank goodness for your keen eyes! My editor will be getting an earful over this.

It's weird to me that she would be excited about it... xD Shouldn't she be horrified instead? Or sad?

There are some old biddies who prefer the silver lining of gossip to the dark cloud of tragedy, especially if they can be tied to it and thereby gain some notoriety themselves.

That poor little charmander. :( What a terrible little life he had. I bet he would get a lot of nos, especially since fire types wouldn't be hard to come by, or even pokemon who have access to fire type moves. Then there are also lighters. It's sad that his employer is abusive as well. I wonder where his brother went, if he was the provider and then just up and vanished. :c

I think the sad ending is a nice way to end it. Sort of heartwarming in a sad way. But I also like the happy ending, haha. How curious about the Snorlax! It does make me wonder. :3

Anyway, great job! :D Definitely heartwarming, but also really sad. Nice story!

Thankfully towards the end of the writing process I came up with the happier ending, but I agree that both endings could be considered "heartwarming" in some way.

Thanks for taking the time to read my story! It means a lot to me!

[Suicune's Fire]

Ack! Thank goodness for your keen eyes! My editor will be getting an earful over this.

There are some old biddies who prefer the silver lining of gossip to the dark cloud of tragedy, especially if they can be tied to it and thereby gain some notoriety themselves.

Thankfully towards the end of the writing process I came up with the happier ending, but I agree that both endings could be considered "heartwarming" in some way.

Thanks for taking the time to read my story! It means a lot to me!

XD Get an earful! Aw it's okay. Sometimes it's hard to catch things. I can N E V E R seem to spot all my own mistakes, haha. ALSO I actually corrected it to "too" at first because my brain is dumb (even though I know it's meant to be "to") which @Fate called me out on. XD So thank him too!

Oh yes, that's a good point. I guess it seemed odd to me because I'm not a COLD-HEARTED CLEFABLE!!!!!!

Yeah exactly. :D I like them both!

Aw no worries, Phantasm! <3 Been a while since I read anything of yours.

[Pokemon Trainer Sarah]

I think I like the sad ending best too. I felt like the whole story was kind of leading up to that sad but sweet release. Poor Charmander.

I like the mysteriousness of the Snorlax being made out of snow and the descriptions of how a Charmander would fare in that kind of weather. The hissing of the snow landing on his tail was really nice imagery. :) Thanks for sharing!

[Kentucky Fried Torchic]

I think I like the sad ending best too. I felt like the whole story was kind of leading up to that sad but sweet release. Poor Charmander.

I like the mysteriousness of the Snorlax being made out of snow and the descriptions of how a Charmander would fare in that kind of weather. The hissing of the snow landing on his tail was really nice imagery. :) Thanks for sharing!

Thank you for taking the time to read my story and letting me know your thoughts!

At first I was a little worried that the story was going to seem too plodding and repetitive, but then I realized that those adjectives sum up this poor Charmander's night, even his whole life. That's my excuse and I am sticking to it! I am glad to hear that you found the touches with the Charmander's walk out in the cold interesting. Some Pokemon just are not made for certain kinds of weather or environments I am afraid.

Also, I finally found the story that subconsciously inspired my mysterious "Snowlax": The Snowman by Raymond Briggs.