#id like to go to actual ghost investigations and experience something for myself to get definitive proof that ghosts are real

[jaybug-jabbers]

All-Glitch Pokemon Blue Run Pt1: An Introduction

The following is an archive of a series of e-mails exchanged between ‘junebug15@pokemail.com’ and ‘profwg@pokemail.com.’ 

Please keep this information classified.

6/10/97 10:00am

Greetings!

I am a news reporter with the Butterfree Bugle. I received a tip about a young lady who was found unconscious just outside the town limits of Pallet Town. She reportedly wandered out there in pursuit of "a strange noise."

I am currently attempting to contact this individual so that I might interview them for further details. I would greatly appreciate any help you could offer in tracking her down. The safety of the residents of Pallet Town are my top priority. Such news could serve to alert others to any potential problems or threats in the area.

I thank you in advance for your assistance,

-W. G., Butterfree Bugle

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6/11/97 7:22pm

Butterfree Bugle Reporter,

I think I may be able to help you locate this person. Do you work at the local office in Pewter City? Did you plan on conducting interviews there? It's odd, but I can't seem to find any W.G.'s listed on your website.

-J

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6/11/97 9:08pm

J,

Yes, I am a recent hire, and our website has not been updated in some time, unfortunately. I do apologize for that.

I'm actually stationed quite a distance from Pewter, so I was hoping to conduct the interview over the phone or even online.

I am quite pleased to hear that you can assist me! You do live in Pallet Town, then? Did you know this young woman personally? Perhaps you could provide an address or phone number for me. This would help enormously.

Thank you greatly,

W.G.

---

6/12/97 11:31am

Butterfree Bugle Reporter,

To be honest, I do want to help you, but I have some concerns. There's plenty of scams going around online. I kind of need you to provide me some credentials or something. I hope you understand.

-J

---

6/12/97 1:06pm

J,

I understand perfectly. You are wise to take such precautions.

Please see the attached file with my work ID. I trust this will be sufficient.

-W.G.

---

6/13/97 12:14pm

"Butterfree Bugle Reporter",

I just got off the phone with the Butterfree Bugle. Spent an hour talking to them. They've never heard of you. I also described the "work ID" you sent me. It's nothing like what they use for their employees.

Buzz off, creep.

-J

---

6/13/97 11:44pm

J,

All right. Let me start again. I beg of you to read this before you block my address.

I apologize for the subterfuge. The fact is I must be extremely cautious in my line of work, and that sometimes requires a cover story. I can't very well e-mail half the country while spreading my name and purpose around.

However, I strongly suspect you are the very person I have been attempting to locate. So I will reveal to you the truth. I can only hope that you are cautious about what you do with this knowledge.

My name is William Ginkgo. I am a pokemon professor located in Cinnabar. My specialty focuses on very . . . unusual pokemon.

Look, I heard from an old contact about something strange occuring in Pallet Town. I have very good reason to believe that I could provide at least a partial explanation for who or what you encountered out there. I'm willing to wager that nobody else has been listening to you about it.

Let me help.

-Professor Ginkgo

---

6/14/97 2:52pm

Professor Ginkgo,

Okay. I'll bite.

You want to hear my story, I'll tell you. But you may be disappointed. There really isn't much to tell.

It was late, like 9ish or something, the sun was about to set. I was outside with my Caterpie and my Kakuna, practicing moves. We were just in the grass right outside of town. Sometimes in the evenings I hear weird sounds coming from the distance. Like a cry of some sort, but strange . . . distorted. Almost sounds like something between a human and an animal-- I can never really tell which it is. My friends can never hear it, they tell me I'm nuts, but I know it's there. Also, sometimes I think I can see stuff moving out of the corner of my eye? But when I turn to look it disappears.

Well, the mystery had been bugging me for ages, and I was getting tired of my friends telling me I was crazy. And that night, I heard it again. It seemed to be coming from the field just past the fence. Actually, that often seems to be where the sound's coming from.

I don't know if you've been to Pallet Town before, but there's this tall, decorative fence that goes around most of the perimeter of the town, and a big abandoned field just past it. Nothing really out there but grass, but whenever we were young and we tried to climb the fence our parents yelled at us. Nobody was ever allowed to climb it, and we were told not go out there in the field. I guess it's private property or whatever. I'm honestly not sure. But I never see anyone out there. It's practically taboo around here to even joke about going out there.

It really wouldn't even have occurred to me to break that rule, if it hadn't been for the weird noises. I spent a while perched on top of the fence, listening, and waiting to see if anybody would come by. Nobody did, so I hopped down on the other side and made my way over to the grass.

Everything was fine and normal at first, but as I got closer, I started feeling a little lightheaded, and the sounds seemed to be growing louder and higher-pitched. Almost as if I could hear them inside my head. And then I reached the grass, and my vision went blurry and started to black out. I thought for a second that I saw . . . something. I'm not sure what. It's kind of jumbled in my mind.

Then I guess I passed out, because the next thing I remember is waking up at home in my bed. My parents were there, really worried. They said somebody spotted me as they were walking by, unconscious on the ground.

And that's about it.

You're a pokemon professor, so maybe you have some idea of what's hiding out there. Is it dangerous? My friends and family still tell me I'm imagining things.

-June

---

6/14/97 6:12pm

Dear June,

Thank you for sharing your story.

I do not believe that you are simply imagining things. In fact, what you are describing is a phenomenon that has occured before. Typically it occurs when people wander too far outside a town or city limits. It does not always happen, of course, but there are certain locations . . . that seem to attract the phenomenon.

As to what's hiding out there, I may have some idea. I would like to ask: have you ever heard of glitch pokemon?

-Ginkgo

---

6/14/97 8:04pm

Uhh. What? Glitch pokemon?

---

6/15/97 1:45am

Dear June,

Allow me to give you a proper introduction and explanation.

As I said, I am Professor Ginkgo. I have a small lab on Cinnabar Island. To be more precise, there are a series of labs on Cinnabar Island housed under the same roof, and I rent a small space there.

I actually grew up in Viridian City and attended the same school as the pokemon professor in your town-- Professor Oak. We were once colleagues, in fact, along with our little circle of friends.

They were all so welcoming at first, and so supportive. We all helped each other and were quite close. Encouraged each other, learned from each other. I watched Oak get his research off the ground, uniting his interest in psychology and pokemon and developing his innovative Pokedex. I collaborated with Elm on some of his studies with pokemon breeding. I even had some of my work published in some very prestigious academic journals.

That all started to change once I started to progress further into my own research interests. Back then, I was studying Ghost-type pokemon. So much is still unknown about them. In particular, I had been investigating reports of a ghost that the Silph Scope had been unable to identify. It took many months, but eventually I encountered this creature myself. And what I experienced . . . I could not quite explain. During my struggles to understand, I uncovered some very obscure papers published in a very niche journal: they were about glitch pokemon.

The article's authors theorized about the existence of these creatures. Creatures with extraordinary features and powers, unlike anything we've ever seen before. Their underlying theory was that our world, and our very universe, can have certain points where the very fabric of reality is weakened, or . . . distorted. The very laws of nature can bend or even break at these points. And somehow, glitch pokemon can immerge from these points.

I realize this sounds remarkable and perhaps even unbelieveable. Yet the descriptions in these old papers aligned so well with my own observations and experiences. The more I pursued it, the more I learned, and the more I realized I was onto something big. Enormous. And incredibly important.

Unfortunately, my colleagues were not quite so open-minded. Even when I confronted them with the direct evidence that I had collected, they scoffed at my ideas and dismissed them as mere drivel. Crackpot theories and superstition, they told me. Journals refused to publish my work. Colleagues stopped collaborating with me. I was eventually ostracized by the entire academic community.

In my desperation I contacted the authors of the original articles I had found. It took time, but eventually I tracked them down. And here, in Cinnabar, I found a few scientists quietly studying glitch pokemon. It is here I have settled and devoted myself to my life's work.

I apologize for giving you such a lengthy personal history, but I thought it prudent to explain precisely where I'm coming from. It is important that you understand I am not just some quack or charlatan. I can tell you with certainty that glitch pokemon are very real and very incredible creatures. Just as Ghost type pokemon were once thought to be silly superstitious drivel, but were later revealed to be very real lifeforms that we could observe and capture-- thanks to the Silph Scope-- we are on the verge of another scientific epiphany.

However, we must also be very cautious. Over my years of study I have come to learn just how powerful glitch pokemon can be. They have the potential for a great deal of danger, as well, if mishandled. In the wrong hands, this could be devastating. This is why I must take so many precautions. It is also why my research is so crucial. We must come to understand these powerful creatures if we are to safely co-exist with them.

June, I believe you may be able to help me with my research. I don't wish to overwhelm you, but you spoke of frequently hearing strange sounds and seeing things you could not explain; things that nobody else seemed to notice. One of the things I have learned in my work is that not everyone seems to perceive glitch pokemon. It appears that only a select few are capable . . . or are willing. I am still uncertain as to why this is, but I suspect part of the reason is that glitch pokemon are usually very shy, ellusive creatures. It could be that something about you draws these pokemon to you, and makes them more willing to reveal themselves. In any case, the fact that you notice them at all is highly noteworthy. 

I'd like you to mull it over. You could contribute to some very important and meaningful work. And the fact of the matter is I am in desperate need of a field assistant. I may not have the popularity nor the generous funding of your local Professor Oak, but I can promise you the research will be exciting and interesting.

Let me know what you think.

-Professor Ginkgo

---

6/15/97 4:38pm

Professor Ginkgo,

Are you sure you want me? I'm literally just a Bug Catcher. I don't have any aspirations to beat all the gyms or become the very best at anything, like the other kids do. I just like spending time with my bug pokemon and maybe having a few battles for fun. Honestly, I don't have much to do this summer and this whole glitch pokemon thing sounds really crazy but also . . . kinda cool? But I figured I should warn you. I'm not exactly a model pokemon trainer.

---

6/15/97 5:19pm

June,

That shouldn't be a problem. Because of the need to be discrete about our research, I actually would actively discourage you from seeking out many battles for recreational purposes. It's best to keep a low profile.

Of course, I still would provide you with a pokemon to accomapy you during field research. It's simply a necessity in this modern day for anybody going out and about-- for guarding against unruly wild pokemon, for subduing potential research subjects for capture, for protection against any ruffians that may try to pull a Rattata out and try to mug you, etc.

In addition to the sheer practicality, though, I think it would present the perfect opportunity for you to start learning about and bonding with glitch pokemon right away. There's no better way to learn about something except first-hand, after all. It would be a formal part of your research to travel with such a companion.

-Professor Ginkgo

---

6/15/97 8:06pm

Wait, you're gonna give me a glitch pokemon? Really??

---

6/15/97 8:31pm

Of course, if you decide to assist me. I would also loan you a pokedex, of sorts-- one modified for my own purposes. You should find it an invaluable tool on your journey.

Would this be agreeable to you?

-Professor Ginkgo

---

6/15/97 10:00pm

To heck with it. I'm in.

-Junebug

---

End Notes

This series will follow my playthrough of Pokemon Blue using a team of only glitch pokemon. Throughout my journey I will explore and play around with a lot of other glitches in the game, too. I will not be using any sort of cheating device; these will be strictly natural glitches.

These end notes will list the specific glitches I use in each post. Obviously I’m mixing in a little lore and fiction to spice things up in these posts, but I believe the end notes should clarify exactly what’s going on. I hope you all enjoy the adventure with me!

Click For the Next Part of the Series!

This is a repost on a new blog. The original post was on Nov 20, 2019.

[sending-the-message]

Case #1- Suspected Supernatural Activity In A Strip Club by JacobMielke

When I first moved to Milwaukee, I spent my days lounging about my new home, avoiding human contact. Eventually I figured it wasn’t healthy to be a shut-in at my age and I should make an effort at pretending to be a socially adept person.

That was why I found myself sitting in a dive bar, staring at a young woman sitting by herself at a table across the room. Her hair was dyed bright red and her arms were adorned with tattoos of various religious symbols, a pride flag, several pokemon, and a facial portrait of Linda Blair. She was stirring a martini and looked bored.

Now, I’ve never known how to chat up people. My one and only relationship came about when both of us realized we were already dating, so it’s not like I know how to make conversation.

Still, one must do what one can.

To this day, I am too ashamed to share my fumbling attempts to seem cool. I must have done something right because she let me sit with her and we conversed. Her name was Moxxy, which she told me was a play on her actual name, Molly. I introduced myself.

“It’s nice to meet you, Moxxy. My name’s Jacob. Mielke, in case you… I don’t know, wanted to know.” I internally screamed. Both the angel and the devil on my shoulders cringed.

“Milky? Like, the Milky Way Galaxy? Got Milk? Milk duds?”

“I’ve been called all of those at some point, yes. Jacob Mielke, like the drink, only not spelled the same.”

“How do you spell it?”

“M-i-e-l-k-e. It’s Italian.” I tried to pull off the accent and failed. I’m about as Italian as Olive Garden.

“Why does that sound so familiar? Did we go to school together?” She leaned forward, smiling mischievously. I didn’t have a clue who she was, and I think I’d remember meeting someone with such a unique sense of fashion.

“No, I lived in Pennsylvania my whole life. Just moved here a while ago.”

She grabbed my arm in a vice grip and I let out a rather unmanly yelp. She stared hard into my eyes. They were a lovely hazel, not that it mattered to me at the moment. “Do you write scary stories?”

As it turned out, Moxxy was a fan of my story A Lack of Empathy, which I’d posted on a creepypasta website years earlier. We had a long discussion about my bibliography, which culminated in her agreeing to check out more of my stories. And thus began a long and fruitful friendship. I never did end up getting into her pants like I’d originally planned but truth be told, it was nice just to have another friend in this strange, new city.

One day, several months after our meeting, I mentioned in passing that I wanted to try writing nonfiction work. She… took it to heart, would be a polite way of putting it.

“Oh my God, we have to go ghost hunting or something. You could be like a supernatural detective and you can write about your findings! People will love you!”

I admit, the idea was intriguing. I don’t think there are any horror writers who don’t believe, in some small way, there’s a hidden world under our own. A world that can’t be explained or seen, only glimpsed. Personally… well, let’s just say I’ve seen some things that absolutely inspired my work.

For our first “case”, as she called it, Moxxy suggested we go to a strip club she knew. I’m going to omit the name so as not to piss off the wrong people (the heavily armed people, that is). It didn’t take much prompting for me to agree to go. Can’t imagine why. Anyway, Moxxy said that some of the dancers at the club quit after experiencing “supernatural activity”. The plan was to go, buy private dances from a few of the women and question if they’d noticed anything out of the ordinary. I thought it might be easier (not to mention cheaper) to try asking them at the bar or something but if she wanted to do it via private dances, then damn it, I was going to respect her wishes.

I did some research on the club to prep for our investigation. Most of what I found was articles and opinion pieces posted online by people who have dedicated their lives to combating the evils of what consenting adults do in private. There were, however, a few that caught my eye. One article referenced an incident in which an employee disappeared. Apparently a bouncer named John Doe (totally his real name, guys) showed up for work one night and was never seen again. The owner and dancers confirmed seeing him there, doing his job, but at some point no one was paying attention to him anymore and then when they went to find him later, he was gone.

Another was a post on reddit (now deleted) claiming that a dancer had gone missing on a night she was scheduled to work. They attached a photo of her as well. It’s hard to tell how reliable that info is, as there were no sources to back it up and none of the commentators knew anything useful.

Eventually the night arrived. Moxxy and I took the bus to the club, where she just strolled right in without the bouncer saying shit about it. She winked at me and I stared murder at her while the bouncer took my money and ID. The club was packed; every seat around the stages held a man (and the occasional woman) with a fist-full of dollars. Moxxy suggested we split up to cover more ground (her investigative technique was plopping down in one of the chairs and staring at a voluptuous woman dancing upside-down on a pole). I was approached by my first dancer less than a minute after taking a seat at the bar.

“Hey, baby. You mind if I sit here?” She had a heavy Russian accent. I consented to her presence and we made small talk while I waited for her to propose a dance, as per experience dictated.

Did I say experience? I meant research. I’d researched strip club etiquette, not experienced it.

I paid for three dances and hinted that I was willing to spend more if kept happy. It was hard to get a question at first, she was really a fan of that thing exotic dancers do when they rub their breasts on your face. Eventually though, I asked: “So I heard that some weird things happen here. Like maybe the place is haunted. Ever notice anything weird around here?”

She stopped grinding on my lap abruptly, which was a sufficient answer in and of itself. “Where did you hear that?”

“A friend of mine knows some people who used to work here. She said they were scared by ghosts or something?”

“There’s no ghosts here.” She hesitated, then leaned in and whispered: “But I think there might be something. Sometimes when I walk by the basement door, I can hear my Babushka talking, telling me to come down. But she’s been dead for years.”

“How do you know it’s not her ghost?”

“I know my Babushka.” She dropped her eyes and I saw goosebumps appear on all over her. “I loved her and she loved me. Whatever that thing is, it does not love me. I can hear it in the voice.”

The remaining time in our dance was awkward. I let her wiggle, passionless and tense, on my lap until the songs were over and tipped her extra. I looked for Moxxy while returning to my seat at the bar but couldn’t find her in the crowd. Maybe she’d gotten a private dance. I waited but when four songs had passed she was still nowhere to be seen. The first inklings of doubt entered my mind. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to go looking for… whatever this thing was. Another five songs passed and my concern blossomed into worry.

I found a man at the bar who looked like he belonged there and tapped his shoulder. “Hey buddy, have you been here before?”

He turned slowly to look at me with one eye (his other was too obscured by a drooping eyelid to be of much use). When he spoke I noticed his breath was infused with enough alcohol to sterilize a hospital. “Sure am.”

“Do you know where I can find the basement?”

He slurred some directions and pointed to the back of the club, near the restrooms.

“Thank you.”

“Welcome. I love you, man.”

“I love you too, sir. You have a nice night.”

It took me a minute to actually find the basement entrance. All the other doors in the establishment were painted black but the basement door was the same shade of red as the walls of the club. I couldn’t help but feel like they were intentionally hiding it from customer view (understandable). I made sure no one was watching and pressed my ear to the door.

Three things happened in the space of a few seconds. The first made my blood cold (you think that’s a silly saying? It’s not. When gripped in a state of intense fear, your brain releases epinephrine and cortisol to prepare your body to fight or flee. A side effect is a perceived rapid temperature drop). Someone (something) was scratching the door on the other side. It was too soft to be heard over the music, unless you were as close as me. I tried to think of a reason why a person would rake their nails on the door like that but I couldn’t. No one would do that unless they were crazy or intentionally trying to scare someone.

The second thing to happen… well, I’m not sure anything did happen. Materially speaking, at least. What I thought was happening was some kind of energy was pouring from the door and mixing with mine. For a split second I became convinced that some kind of consciousness was touching my mind. Something not human. More than that, just as I knew it was there, it was also aware of me.

And that was that. Mind made up, time to go. Except… you know that moment in a horror movie where a character does something really stupid?

The third thing to happen was the scratching stopped and the whispering began. I couldn’t make out what the voice was saying but the longer I listened, the more convinced I became that it was Moxxy’s.

Occam’s Razor: something, some ghost or demon or mimic monster, was using Moxxy’s voice to lure me into the basement. I’d become the next person to disappear in the club. The smart thing to do was obviously to walk away. And yet… Moxxy was missing. Why would she leave without me? It was her idea to come here in the first place. What if she went down there while I was getting a dance?

What if it wasn’t too late to save her?

I opened the door wide. Nothing stood before me. There was a light switch on the wall at the top of the stairs and I used it before taking a few steps down. Light flooded the basement and the terror that gripped me only moments ago vanished. I descended the rest of the way and looked around. The basement was a single, open room supported in places with cement pillars. Boxes were everywhere, piled from floor to ceiling in some places. Moxxy wasn’t down here but on the far side of the room was something that caught my attention: a hole in the wall. I crossed the room for a closer look. It was a perfect circle, like a laser beam cut through the concrete. It was about two feet across. While I examined it, two footsteps thudded at the top of the stairs. I turned and saw a man wearing the bouncer’s uniform standing in the doorway. His face was grim.

“Whatever you do, don’t scream.”

He retreated through the door and shut it. Before I could take a step in its direction, the light vanished. The fear returned. There was something in the basement and it was between me and the door. I could feel it there, feel its malice.

When flight is impossible and fighting isn’t an option, the human animal has a third defense mechanism rarely used: freeze. I didn’t so much as twitch a muscle in the dark. My breath was as shallow as I could make it without passing out and I squeezed my eyes shut. There was a shuffling in front of me and a raspy hiss that grew louder as my companion inched closer. Then it was in front of me, then all around me. The noise ceased completely and something touched me, just barely brushing the hairs on my arm.

Light shone in the basement and I saw it even through my closed eyelids. There was a bang and a voice I didn’t recognize: “Over here!”

I opened my eyes and turned my head in the direction of the sound. A young woman wearing flashy lingerie and body glitter (a dancer from the club?) stood in a doorway on the side of the basement. I hadn’t even noticed it was there before, I was so fixated on the hole in the wall. The dancer waved me over urgently. “This way!”

I moved for the door but a voice from behind once again froze me in place before I could reach it. “No… stay. Stay here with me. I won’t hurt you. I have things I want to show you.”

I raised a foot to step forward but moving was slow, like the air had turned to tar.

“Stay, Jacob. You’re just like me, a child of darkness. Stay. You can accomplish so much more down here with me. Just turn around… look at me.”

The woman in the doorway shook her head. “Don’t do it!”

A small puff of cold air hit my ear and a voice whispered mere centimeters from me, “Look at me.”

I bolted for the door. The woman turned and ran as well and I heard her high heels clanging on something metal. It was a staircase. The door led outside from the basement to an alley behind the club. I rushed up the stairs, but couldn’t resist looking back. The basement door was swinging shut on its own. In the moments before it closed, I saw a pair of eyes looking at me from the dark. They flashed green and yellow, like cat eyes. It was less than a second. But I looked. I saw.

I didn’t see the woman in the alley, nor did I see her when I went around to the front of the building. But I did see Moxxy, standing near the front door. She looked surprised to see me. “Sorry man, I got kicked out. Apparently you’re not allowed to put your fingers in the girls here. I was expecting you to come out the front. Did you learn anything from that Russian chick?”

I looked around. The woman couldn’t have gone so far so quickly. But she was gone. “Hey, did you see one of the dancers come running out before me?”

“No, just you. Jesus dude, are you okay? You’re shaking!”

It took two days to convince Moxxy I wasn’t making up a story. Two days for her to believe there really was something in the basement, something not as physical as a person yet not as immaterial as a spirit. She wasn’t very sensitive about how close I came to… well, something tells me death isn’t a strong enough word to cover it. More than anything else, she was excited. In her mind, our new investigation team was in full force and we’d just opened our first case.

Though I was too terrified to realize it at the time, the bouncer who stood at the top of the stares and the dancer who led me to safety had faces I’d seen before, in pictures on the internet on articles and posts about missing strip club employees.

The terror I’d experienced faded over time. I think the mind has a way of refusing to feel certain things, in order to protect itself. I still think about that day sometimes and I’ve never forgotten those eyes (“Look at me.”). Still, life has mostly gone on as normal.

Well, not normal. Over the years, Moxxy and I encountered a great many things that could generously be referred to as unusual. I didn’t get around to publishing our stories or the adventures of the tiny amateur group that would eventually become Mielke Investigations until now. I did write about them though, keeping my musings and notes and findings in folders on my computer marked as cases. This one, obviously, was Case #1.

I do plan on sharing more of our cases once I figure out the technical details and rules (like should I put a series tag on these posts even if they’re all stand-alone stories?) both on this site and my professional author page (which you can view here by the way).

I’m not sure why I want to share these stories or even why I seek out the paranormal in the first place. I think it has something to do with what that thing in the basement said about me being a “child of darkness”. I don’t consider myself a bad person but I do write about evil. Not only as fiction but now also as my experiences with it. I record the dark things and then bring them to you. Maybe that’s enough to count me among them.

Or not, I’m basically talking out my ass at this point. Thanks for reading about my experiences. There will be more cases to come. In the meantime, some advice: when you go to a strip club, try to stay with the crowd. And don’t go in the basement.