Written by Goldenkitsune-Queen on DeviantART.
Okay. This story I'm about to share is very personal, very strange, and probably unbelievable.
I don't blame any of you if you don't believe it, and I especially don't blame you if you think I'm crazy, but I can assure you it's all true.
I've only recently really gotten into Pokemon Creepypasta, a lot of even the older stories, like Lavender Town's Tune and Buried Alive are all quite new to me.
Like most readers however, I dismissed these stories, only getting the fun creepy thrill from them that they were intended to give.
However, one story always intrigued me just a little more than the rest. It was the story behind the White Hand. I wasn't sure why, for the longest time the creepy white, skeletal and horrifically detailed severed hand stood out so much to me.
That was until, with surprising clarity I realized it reminded me of the Pokemon Haunter. Not just the Pokemon itself however, but of an eerie incident that happened long, long ago when I was still very young.
See, when I was around 12 or so, my siblings and I liked to make believe that Pokemon were real. That if we wished and looked hard enough, we could find Pokemon of our own. I'm not sure what energies manifested itself from such strong beliefs, or if maybe we just had powerful imaginations, but there were times when we could swear we spotted a Caterpie somewhere out of the corner of our eyes, or we heard a Pikachu in the walls.
This probably went on for awhile, at first the sightings were simply that, and only one or two of us spotting them at a time.
Until one night, when we all went into the kitchen for a snack. It was dark and eerie, some of us were nervous for some reason.
That was when we saw it, what looked like a Haunter, but there was something horribly wrong. For one thing it was a ghostly white, and its eyes were a solid glowing red.
It didn't look like the simple, angular shape of a Haunter either. Its edges looked tattered, like a ghost, its teeth were sharp and frightening. Most terrifying of all however was its hands.
Its hands were a skeletal white, like a corpse, with tendons and flesh hanging from it while being unconnected to its body. Its hands looked, when I realize back to the memory, most likely exactly like the White Hand would look like in the game, only a horrifying reality than mere pixels.
I don't exactly remember what happened next. I'm sure my siblings and I all screamed and ran back to our room, staying there the rest of the night. We stopped going into the kitchen at night unless an adult was around. At some point not long after, the light on the kitchen ceiling mysteriously broke off, crashing and shattering onto the tile floor. It wasn't just a light bulb, it was one of those covered fixtures. It was very heavy, and if anyone was standing underneath when it fell it would have resulted in some serious injury.
At some point as we moved around and grew up, my brothers and sisters and I long stopped believing in seeing Pokemon, and even forgot the imaginary ones we supposedly saw as children.
But now I can't forget the one. After all these years, from now on when I think about the White Hand, I can only think of it as one thing.
The white hand of the white haunter from long ago.