The Reborn Malticorn
Owner: Jolteon

Age: 2 years, 1 month, 3 weeks

Born: February 23rd, 2012

Adopted: 2 years, 1 month, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: February 23rd, 2012

Nominate Pet for Spotlight


  • Level: 10
  • Strength: 14
  • Defense: 10
  • Speed: 10
  • Health: 15
  • HP: 15/15
  • Intelligence: 157
  • Books Read: 159
  • Food Eaten: 8
  • Job:

In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. The one that burns brightly, sparks to life when something comes and whisks you off your feet. Mine has been out for most of my life. Extinguished when the incident happened . My mother fell down the rabbit hole only to begin to talk while grabbing my hand. Shutting her mouth and then let go, letting my arm return stiffly to my side. It's been eleven years trying to communicate to a wall, watching glassy eyes move across the room falling to the floor at the sight of the man she loved's picture.

The Unmendable Heart
I kicked the can while strolling down the deserted sidewalk, a child gripped a nub of a blue chalk piece circling a ant hill, then to a small crack in the wall of the building near by. He looked up at me and smiled, masking the pain of the laid off families and growing pit gnawing at their stomachs. It was a mirror to the past after the incident with my father, struggling to bring my mother back to look ahead then the caution tape. As I remorse in the past, the child, got up and shifted to draw something different. A small hand grabbed my leg and made me come back to the real-world; I was in the way of his doodling. Apologizing and running away sheepishly wasn't my nature. Something, however, with children made me become a new person. A softer woman who didn't inhale smoke and drown herself in the sea of alcohol. Popping a sucker in my mouth, I returned home after a long day.

I made it to my apartment, weaseling myself through thick crowds and rushing cars. Jamming the key in the lock, my glaze fell to some broken glass. Something that could be ignore if it was a glass beer bottle. Following the trail lead to a broken window. My window. Opening the door slowly, expecting a barrel of a gun to jut me in my face or a blunt weapon swinging for my skull. Nothing happened, or so it seemed. Right now, I could be sprawled out in a pool of blood, however, I was sneaking up the stairs.

"These are beautiful." A girl said brightly, fingering my woven bags hanging from my bed. She unhooked one and tried it one, admiring herself in my mirror, before catching a glance of me in the corner. She froze, eyeing the window dropping the bag, which was full of my unused art supplies. My mum always said, things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end

Who I thank

Art Profile Art by Strider

Profile by Charles

For me Info, 17 years old, dad died at 6

Pet Treasure

Blue Sidewalk Chalk

Honey and Lemon Tea Bag

Chamomile Tea Bag

English Breakfast Tea Bag

Green Tea Bag

Cinnamon Tea Bag

Pie Tea Bag

Peppermint Tea Bag

French Flag

Just Some Boy Headphones

Pet Friends