Information


Olliver_808 has a minion!

Nova the Caan




Olliver_808
Legacy Name: Olliver_808


The Galactic Ontra
Owner: GRACIE

Age: 15 years, 2 months, 2 days

Born: March 2nd, 2009

Adopted: 9 years, 3 months, 2 days ago

Adopted: February 1st, 2015

Statistics


  • Level: 6
     
  • Strength: 13
     
  • Defense: 13
     
  • Speed: 13
     
  • Health: 13
     
  • HP: 13/13
     
  • Intelligence: 1
     
  • Books Read: 0
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Stock Worker


"Somebody tell me why I'm on my own, if there's a soulmate for everyone."

"Imagine a world where your world is colourless, all shades of black and white, until you meet your soul mate. You could be walking down the street, when you bump into a perfect stranger, hair tousled, coffee all over their Sunday best and you would walk away completely unaware. However, first it'd be the yellow dandelion struggling through the crack on the edge of the sidewalk, then the man across the street's outrageously green sweater, but slowly, then all at once colour would seep it's way into your surroundings."

It's so incredibly ironic that my life for the past eighteen years seemed so lifeless. Like somehow when the arguably most important years of my life started, I unwittingly pressed the autopilot button and didn't ever turn it off. Each minute seemed to drag, the hours crawled, but the days flew by and before I knew it I was graduating high school. I stood up on stage and did exactly what they told us, grasped the principals hand with my right and received the certificate with my left. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my parents sitting in the third row, my dad standing up and blocking the view of everyone behind him to snap a picture and my mother nudging his forearm in an attempt to sit him down. I subtly waved at them to appease them, but also in an embarrassed attempt to sit my father down.

My life was fine, I had friends, alright grades, I was going to college, my parents were nice people - I was predictable. You see, that was until I met her.

She was an artists dream, my dream. Her voice, the way she dressed, the way the strand of hair closest to her face fell into the side of her mouth sometimes, it was all so vivid, so colourful. The pitch and volume of her voice would get higher, the more passionately she spoke, and sometimes she would yell at me, and the world, because her mind would paint not just sky blues, and pale pinks, but blood red hues and strokes of pitch black.

I so helplessly wanted to colour her world, the way she coloured mine. I loved to paint her, I painted rainbows out of her mouth, and stars in her hair, but none of that could help her out of the misery she felt from time to time. I looked forward to every Tuesday, where at 4:08 pm sharp, we would put on the latest

Pet Treasure


Blue Fishie Doll

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