Even Psychics Can’t Fight Every Nightmare

Ugh, ghost-types. Sabrina despised them. That variety of Pokémon, including dark-types, was beyond her perception. She often awoke sobbing in the night, dreary dreams of yamask plaguing her.

Maybe having her spirit consumed by a litwick would be a better fate. She had the ability to peer into the fabric of existence itself, and knew she didn’t wish to remain stuck in this plane. She wanted to ascend, not fall into the underworld of spirits crying out to be freed.

Shuddering, she stumbled into her playroom with her doll collection. Ever since Ash defeated her with a haunter, she almost wanted him to be a doll still. Now everyone was attacking her gym with ghost and dark Pokémon. Looking in the mirror, a yamask floated by. Heart pounding, she retreated to her bedroom. Ghosts in her home?!

The yamask didn’t seem to notice her. It clutched its mask tightly, an eye clouded over. Sabrina slowed her breathing so it would simply float by. Instead, it turned to her, looked at its mask, and sobbed. Sabrina shivered. Will I become a yamask as well?

The Pokémon halted in its crying and wandering, coming face to face with her. She held her breath, and realized that the place was chilly. She could almost see her own warm vapour.

“Haa…haa…”

“Leave me,” she commanded, trying her best to sound confident. The Pokémon tilted its head and mask at her, then slipped out of the eerie gym. She allowed herself a little sigh in relief.

It was not her time yet…but one day, the yamask would return.

—October 28th, 2012.

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