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Abandoned Pokedoll (Banette) story (see description for the story); It was her favorite doll. She took it everywhere, clutching it tightly in her small hands. The doll did everything with her. It went to school, sleepovers, dinners, and even tagged along for baths.
The two were inseparable. She even claimed the first day she became a trainer, she’d still carry it around to remember her childhood.
The doll might have been a bit odd looking, but that didn’t change anything. It’s what she liked, made the doll truly unique.
But as years went on, she found interest in other dolls. It didn’t make sense, junking the old doll for new ones.
Yet, worn and dirty with age, the doll was sent away.
It lay in the dumpster, surrounded by trash bags and food wrappers. Not where it belonged. Not at all.
Slowly, the arms twitched, fingers clawing into the trash bags. Its eyes were an angry red, and the zipper-mouth turning into an angry scowl.
Banette rose from the dumpster, ready to find that little girl who threw it away.
The neighborhood—it hadn’t changed a bit. How long had it been, anyway? Banette surely couldn’t have been in there that long. It’d find that sweet little girl again and cuddle right back up in her arms.
Trash—what a joke. How could someone throw it away? A favorite should not be treated this way. You always kept your favorite. You never tossed it away.
The grudge grew stronger as the familiar houses of the block came into view. Her house wasn’t far; just a few more to pass by.
At last, it came into view. The window was opened, letting the warm summer breeze pass through.
To Banette’s disgust, new dolls littered the floor of her room. Other Pokémon, all new and fresh, not a stain on them, all set perfectly in a row.
Its owner wasn’t so little anymore. It had been a few years. Banette floated over to the calendar. Tomorrow was her tenth birthday. She’d be a trainer tomorrow.
Banette slashed its claws through the calendar. A trainer? No chance at that.
The slashing continued, slitting all of the dolls “throats”. Stuffing pooled out, the dolls landing on the floor silently.
No, no, this wasn’t enough. The girl would get new dolls, and these ones would end up in the dumpster as well.
There was a simple solution to that, at least.
She barely had a chance to scream. Just a whimpered gurgle as the claws tore through flesh, leaving a clean, long cut down her neck.
The girl would never, ever abandon her dolls ever again.
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