Watching the Same Sun

Chapter One

Chapter One

Sorry Guys, this might be cliche... I'm not sure how ofter i'll update but... Yea I hope u guys anjoy. CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM WELCOMED! Well... Enjoy!

I don't own Pokemon or the characters,if I add a OC i'll tell u guys!

I started teaching classes a short  year ago. They were to mainly take things off my mind. They also paid well too.  After winning the grand festival four  years ago, I started losing interest in contests. That was three years after my friends left. Ash. Sweet, dense Ash.  Brock.  that girl crazy father figure while traveling. Max. my baby brother.  Max left on his journey three years ago. We’ve heard from him, but not much. He just travels the regions, collecting gym badges, making friends and being a crazy teen. He’s already tried at the sinnoh and unova league with no luck. Right now, he’s who knows where. He refuses to travel Kanto or Hoenn. Too many memories he says. I agree. Too much here. I want to leave. But I can’t. My parents are here. My pokemon are here. My job is here. I can’t leave. It’s just too much to leave behind.

I, May Maple, am just falling behind with life. All I can do is think about supporting my family. My brothers dreams. Our house. My whole life. Everyday, I go to work.  I bring different pokemon each day. I teach a class about contests. I show moves, how to impress the judges, and how to raise your pokemon well. Anyone can go to the class. It's in the pokemon training academy.  I plaster a smile on my face and do my best. Everyday. No one notices it’s fake. No one. Not even my parents.

I have two joys in my life. Letters. Writing letter. Receiving letters. Using fancy stationery.  Using nice ballpoint pens. I even go to a cafe to write letters. My favorite place, everywhere else I go has memories embedded in them. I go after work, at around three o’ clock. I sit down in my usual seat in the corner. A small chair near a fireplace. I never buy anything until I am about to leave. I can’t risk ruining my stationary. I take out a fancy piece and start to write. I do that every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I sit and write. For two hours. Arriving home at about six to make dinner for my parents. I’m not sure why I’m the cook, I burn most everything I make.

My other joy is music. Such a simple yet complex source of enjoyment. It was something that came rarely to people, but to me, it was alway there. The sad songs, the breakup songs, love songs, songs from movies and musicals, the occasional happy song. It was all there.

I started listening to music and getting into it right about when Max left. I was sad, alone, and virtually brotherless. My parents got a guitar to cheer me up, but that was only temporary enjoyment. When Max was there, I at least had someone to talk to. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom, but she can be boring to talk to.  My dads at work, all the time, so I barely get to see him. He’s not very proud of me anymore either. After I stopped contests, he started thinking of me as only a way to pay bills, not his daughter. To put it simply, he was disappointed. When he was home, it was like I wasn’t there. I was only shell. With a large appetite.

I finish up my current letter that I’m writing, and head home, to my house of sorrow.

I hope You guys liked it! The paragraph about music is basicly my relationship with music... is that possible? to have a relationship with music...