Information


Warner has a minion!

Fabio the Valentines Hamster




Warner
Legacy Name: Warner


The Reborn Anyu
Owner: Paint

Age: 13 years, 4 months, 3 days

Born: December 30th, 2010

Adopted: 13 years, 4 months, 3 days ago

Adopted: December 30th, 2010

Statistics


  • Level: 1
     
  • Strength: 10
     
  • Defense: 10
     
  • Speed: 10
     
  • Health: 10
     
  • HP: 10/10
     
  • Intelligence: 0
     
  • Books Read: 0
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Unemployed


-Waiting to re-edit the stories once his profile layout is done-

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly, The Sad, and The Strange

~*~

The Good

Warner smiled as he felt the girl’s tiny fingers cling to his back with more force, her laughter shining around him as rays of sunlight. He loved dreams like this, small children’s dreams, usually untainted by the foul touches of the world. Dashing through soft clouds of the purest white, Warner watched as flowers blossomed around him, their petals rustling to make melodious sounds that vibrated off in waves of color.Oh, another reason he loved these dreams.He generally got to be in an animal’s form.

Most of the time when Warner was sucked into the depths of sleeping minds, he simply appeared as himself, human, scrawny, a bit awkward, the same. But in some dreams (generally the young, the upbeat, or the simply strange) he appeared as a large brown bear, golden cuffs wrapped around his ankles with furiously flapping wings attached to their etched surfaces, letting him glide, or on occasion, fly. It was crazy and magnificent and he adored it.

As he bounded through the clouds’ Warner’s coat shown an almost copper-red, the small girl’s ringlet’s bouncing up and down with his lumbering yet graceful movements.“Slow down Anyu (Warner had found that that was standard protocol as a name when he appeared as a bear) we need ta’ go see where the unicorns are hiding! Before the rain clouds get mad!” Warner loved the irrationality of these types of dreams. In nightmares it’s what kept him on his toes, always terrified of what the dreamer’s next thought would conjure… In these he could relax and simply enjoy the frivolities of a child’s mind that he could no longer experience when he woke up.

“Tell me where the unicorns are, Samantha.” He replied back, his voice rumbling deep from within his throat. The names of the dreamers often came into his head whenever he needed to call them out in the dream itself.

“Under da’ waterfall, silly! They’re playing. I want to play with them!” The small child bounced up and down on Warner in excitement, her body floating higher and higher with each bounce until both bear and child began to float upward, twisting and turning as golden sun beams washed over them and tickled their noses.

Air and sky turned to water and they began swimming, fish in crystalline glass bubbles curiously watching as the pair made their way to the surface of a pristine lake.

Warner emerged first, his large head dripping water that reflected pastel rainbows that didn’t exist. The little girl soon showed up next to him, silky hair floating around her as she grabbed onto his fur once more. Directly in front of the two stood a herd of unicorns, grazing lazily in fields of gold, their tails spun of satin and hooves of pearl. The girl began to giggle happily and clapped her hands together; releasing her grip on Warner and gliding to the lake’s edge, pulling herself up and out. Warner slowly followed, treading through the water with his massive paws, careful not to knock any of the bubbled fish.

He eventually noticed that the “waterfall” was actually more sunlight splashing down from the sky and dribbling down over the unicorn’s backs, though the creatures seemed unaware. Once Warner had climbed out from the lake he shook his fur, sending rainbow ribbons flying in every direction. By now the small girl was lying in the middle of the herd, stroking the muzzle of one of the mythical creatures who had begun to nuzzle her gently. Slowly the unicorn’s white coat turned a gorgeous shade of rich brown, its spiraled horn diminishing and its white mane turning flaxen and fluffy.

“PONY!” The girl cried out as she jumped to her feet, cowboy boots appearing around them. The unicorns that were left seemed un-phased by the sudden movement and slowly began to fade before all that was left were masses of foam, sparkling in the grass like piles of jewels. Warner didn’t say anything; words were rarely needed in dreams like this. He simply smiled as he watched the girl climb onto the back of the chunky pony, daisies blossoming around its hooves.

“Anyu I’m gunna’ ride Chip now, ok?” The little girl called out. Warner could swear the pony was now smiling back at him.

“Have a good time Sam.” Warner called out, his heart sinking slightly as he felt the dream dissipating. The scene was bittersweet as the girl and pony began to gallop through clouds that had formed around them, rising back into the sky till all Warner could see was a small dot. Sometimes dreams ended in a flash, while others lingered till just a wisp was left.

- - - - - - -

The teenager reluctantly woke up with laughter ringing in his ears. The grin on his face wouldn’t leave, and he simply sat in his bed, closed his eyes, and smiled.

~*~

The Bad

Warner had a bad feeling about going to sleep tonight, and that usually meant a nightmare. He really didn’t need to be in one of those, he’d had to participate in one just last week and it had been awful. And it had been from someone he’d known, which always made it worse. Sometimes the dreams let him try to manipulate them for the better, but other times all he could do was hand someone a noose and watch as the chair was kicked over. And sometimes he had to be the one to kick it. Hesitantly he stilled his body as usual, his blankets laying perfectly even, the rise and fall of his chest the only movement to be seen at first glance. Absently, and through squinted eyes, he watched his over-fed hamster, Fabio run on his bright yellow wheel, chubby body in constant motion. At least he didn’t seem worried. Blinking repeatedly Warner tried to calm down. His heart was pounding in his ears, drowning out whatever creaks the rodent’s play-wheel tended to make. As always, sleep overtook Warner fairly quickly, despite his growing anxiety.

- - - - - - -

It was very dark and unidentifiable dripping sounds could be heard.

Shit.

Warner stuck his hands out in front of him very carefully, noting that he was wearing a hoodie and sweat-pants, unlike his usual jeans and T-shirt. Interesting. He took a few steps forward. The ground was solid, that was good at least, though something felt sort of sticky on the soles of his boots (No sneakers, another change in attire. He still wasn’t in his animal form though). Slowly the darkness turned into a murky alleyway, twisting and turning wherever Warner looked. Maybe this wasn’t a nightmare but just one of those freaky dreams that made no sense.

And then he heard the screaming. And then the silence that followed.

Double shit.

With a loud flash (Warner wasn’t sure how a visual change could be heard so clearly) the alleyway solidified and piles of bones began to shiver and shake around him, moaning as they shuddered in masses of black goo. A wiry man suddenly appeared next to Warner (Why did they so often just pop up like that?), a huge kitchen knife in his left, muddied hand, rusted with blood but also coated with what looked like a fresher version of the substance. “Ahehehe, that one almost got away.” The man turned to Warner and grinned maliciously, one eye continually wandering.

This was definitely a nightmare, and it was from someone who had actually been in contact with this man. A shudder ran down Warner’s spine as the man placed an arm on his shoulder, leaning in. His breathe smelled like acid as he spoke, “I’ve gotten seven so far. Haven’t been caught yet. Same technique, slash to the throat. Always the same. Pretty little girls, pretty little boys, just keep my number count going up and up and up.” The man began to giggle and Warner felt sick. He had yet to see who was actually DREAMING this. He could always tell who the dreamer was when he saw them.

Suddenly a young girl in pigtails ran by, appearing out of a nearby wall. Her breathing was labored and she let out a shriek as she bumped into the tall man. “Oh look, another one!” The man’s arm left Warner’s trembling shoulder and with lightning speed wrapped itself securely around the petite girl’s neck. Warner snapped out of his frozen state and planted both arms firmly around the man’s, digging in his fingernails and pulling.

“LET GO OF HER.” He screamed out, desperate to change the direction this dream was taking. He couldn’t deal with this type of nightmare again, not after last week’s. The girl was crying, her knees scraped and bleeding, her hair stuck to her innocent face from previous tears.

The man cocked his head at Warner slowly, his grip tightening around the knife that had inched its way towards the girl’s slightly exposed neck.A small voice began to buzz in Warner’s head, “HELP HER. PLEASE HELP HER. SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP HER.”No one was next to Warner but the voice was painfully clear, like a shard of glass lodged in his mind. The dreamer must be watching but not present. Warner tightened his hands further, locking his gaze with the man.

“But she’d be number eight…” The man said softly, almost desperately. Warner was about to reply before the alleyway turned upside down.

Warner fell to the floor with a ‘thud’, his body bouncing several times before the final bounce sent him flying back up to his feet. Head spinning, Warner was now in a kitchen. Gasping for breath he wheeled around, trying to find the girl. She, the man, and the alleyway were gone, replaced by a bright kitchen with flowers hanging lazily out of teacups on a windowsill, a few dirty dishes filling the sink below. A young boy, maybe eight or so was sitting at the kitchen island, worriedly nibbling on a slice of orange. The kitchen may have been bright but multiple windows that moved up and down the walls showed stars floating through dark streets outside.

“Is he home yet?” The boy asked, startling Warner. His body language gave the façade of composure but his eyes were full of terror. “Did he find Lila? Did he find her? I told her not to play with me anymore.”That voice… This was the little boy’s dream meaning he’d been watching everything that had transpired so far.Warner was about to reply when a door slammed open and the man from the alleyway walked in, only this time he was dressed in slacks and a fitted shirt, a pleasant expression plastered across his face. The only similarity to the man in the alleyway was his build and that one eye still wandered.

“Hey buddy, sorry I’m home so late!”The man’s words echoed throughout the room, ricocheting off the walls and circling the small boy’s head, taunting him.

“Hi Dad.” The boy replied, sniffling as he placed what was left of the orange slice on the white marble countertop, not making eye-contact.

“Work ran late again, that’s all.” The man walked forward and sat next to the boy, ruffling his hair. Blood appeared were the man’s hand had touched.

Warner didn’t know if he could help this boy’s dream, it was too solidified, too…real. That thought made Warner want to cry. He didn’t remember seeing this boy before so it must’ve just been a passing glance somewhere, but…

“Hi, I’m Warner.” He suddenly said, sticking out his hand to shake the mans, who obviously didn’t recognize him. The man cocked his head again and took it, fingers feeling wet although they appeared spotless. Warner didn’t think he could change this dream extensively, but the little girl he now knew as Lila hadn’t died in it and he knew (or could feel) that wasn’t “supposed” to have happened, she was going to. He’d been able to interrupt the turn of events somehow. “I was just about to go play with your son, Justin.” The name popped in Warner’s head and the little boy looked up before jumping off his stool and running over to stand by Warner’s side.

“Oh… Justin usually only plays with Lila…I don’t like him playing with…other little children…But that’s ok. That’s ok. That’s ok.” The man repeated the words over and over as Warner began to guide the little boy further away, backing up towards one of the shifting windows that led out to pathways of stars.

A knife re-appeared in the man’s hand and he began to tap it on the counter, flecks of blood flying everywhere. “Just be a good boy while you play, ok? Be a good boy…” The man began to mumble and pick at his fingernails as bones began to well up from the floor. Justin began to softly cry. The father looked up at his child and smiled, framed by blood and death before slowly melting into a puddle of black, his murmurings continuing to fill the kitchen room.

Justin stared at Warner.
“I can’t tell anybody. He’ll hurt Lila. He’ll hurt me. I bet he hurt Mommy.”
Warner bit his lower lip, he felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest. Justin was trembling.
“Sometimes only some of me wants to wake up.”

- - - - - - -

Warner woke up sobbing before leaning over the side of his bed and throwing up into his waste-bin, clutching at his sides frantically.The sounds from Fabio’s wheel had long since stopped.

~*~

The Ugly

Warner blinked his weary eyes several times, adjusting them to the dim lighting. Everything was a bit fuzzy… Glowy, maybe? He wasn’t sure if that was a word, or what word he’d use to describe how the room he was in looked exactly. He did notice that he was floating near some sort of door (at least that was something easy to explain). Eyes snapping wide open, Warner watched as a bed popped into view, a girl in a fit of giggles rolling around in the satin sheets that gracefully draped over it. She wasn’t alone. Warner inwardly groaned. The door he was near must be to a closet or something but right now that was inconsequential knowledge.

“St-o-o-o-p t-i-i-i-i-ckling me-e-eeee!” The girl shrieked. Warner’s train of thought rattled back to her with a screeching halt. She was in her underwear, a polka dot bra and tiny striped panties with lacy edges.

She could’ve at least matched in her dream. Warner thought to himself before turning his attention to the tickler. He looked about Warner’s age, maybe a few years older, and had bright blonde hair and rippling muscles. As the girl wiggled around Warner noticed her skin looked like something out of a leg-shaving commercial. He tried to move so that he didn’t have to watch their ‘tickle fight’ but to no avail. His movements were restricted in this one

“You’re just so cuuuute…” The boy (man?) crooned before flopping next to the girl on the bed and winding a toned finger through her brown hair that was sparkling way too much to be natural. Warner inwardly gagged.

“No, you are…” The girl replied before wrapping her perfectly smooth arms around the boy’s neck and pulling him in for a deep, passionate kiss. The boy obviously obliged and began to move his hands lower… The whole room began to glitter and swirl... Warner shut his eyes. He’d seen enough dreams like this and the fact that his arms seemed to be glued to his sides didn’t help the sounds that were assaulting his ears from the couple on the bed. He still wasn’t sure if this girl’s dream was a fantasy or if that was actually her boyfriend, but he could tell that this wasn’t what she looked like in real life, so probably the latter.

Warner felt an unknown force prying his eyes back open and he gulped before staring back at the scene. The girl’s hair was now blonde and she was much chubbier, with freckles all over, though the man still looked the same. Warner was now pretty sure that this was one of the girl’s he used to go to high school with before he began to homeschool himself. What had her name been? June? Jennifer? He had no idea and was still pretty uncomfortable as the two continued to lather each other in sloppy kisses. For her sake he hoped that was actually her boyfriend doing the kissing and not just a figment of her imagination, though she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it either way. The room began to spin again and slowly the figures dissipated till just Warner and the door were left.

- - - - - - -

Warner woke up with his face flushed and his palms uncomfortably sweaty. He REALLY didn’t want to feel the emotions from that dream but it was too late for that. He slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling the need to vomit yet also hug something. Yeah, hug was the word he’d go with.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like girls or anything; there were plenty he thought were really cute, just after a while, seeing that sort of thing really lost its appeal. Checking the clock he noticed it’d been a good eight hours since he’d fallen asleep.

“Still damn tired though.” He mumbled, ignoring his use of foul language that so rarely graced his lips.

~*~

The Sad

Warner walked into his cramped room slowly as he shimmied out of his worn blue jeans and slipped into a pair of lightweight pajama bottoms that he grabbed off his nearby dresser. He then proceeded to tiptoe around the piles of books littering his floor, evidence of the amount of convincing it had taken to let his mom let him home-school himself, which at sixteen wasn’t the easiest. Not bothering to change shirts, Warner flopped onto his bed, shoving his legs under the blankets quickly as he heard the air-conditioning click on. He really didn’t feel like sleeping. Well, correction, he didn’t feel like dealing with sleeping. Running a hand through his auburn hair, Warner absently removed his large glasses and tossed them onto his nightstand before sticking his arms down by his sides and lying perfectly still. He always slept like this, never moving. If he was actually asleep it might have looked peaceful, but as his ragged breathing filled the room it coated the air with tension. Slowly the boy relaxed and his brown eyes fluttered closed, the dark canyons below them finally receiving respite.

- - - - - - -

Warner stood at the edge of a large forest, mist swirling around his legs in billowing clouds. He looked up. Straight in front was a graveyard, gray and desolate. He really hoped this wasn’t a nightmare. Taking a few tentative steps forward, Warner emerged from the dark and into the field the graveyard covered. The sky was absent, no color, no clouds, no feeling. Warner looked at his hands. At least he was in his own body. Turning to look up again, Warner spotted a man walking towards one of the gravestones. The man was dressed in a spotless tweed suit, and looked to be in his mid-forties, shining shoes barely grazing the dew laden grass as he made his way towards the cement structure. Bending down, the man laid a bouquet of unusually fresh and bright flowers (White Carnations, Warner noticed) next to the headstone before taking out a pair of keys. The man then began to scrape at the headstone very delicately, his mouth pursed and black brows furrowed in concentration.

Warner stood perfectly still as he watched in apprehension, shuddering ever so slightly as a gust of wind blew by. The man looked up.

“Well don’t just stand there boy, c’mere and help me.”

Looks like I’m participating in this one…

Warner made his way over to the man tentatively, the mist still swirling around his legs as he walked. A pocket knife appeared in one of his hands, warm to the touch in contrast to the rest of the landscape.

“Help me get the dirt outta’ these letters…Gotta’ keep them clean for her…”

Warner now realized what the man had been doing with the keys. Wordlessly he squatted next to the headstone and began to pick at the bits of dirt clinging to the carved surfaces.

“Emily always liked things neat.” The man began. Warner felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him, this dream was a reoccurring one for this man, probably at least once a week. “We were married 25 years. Son, that’s a long time to love someone, not even countin’ the time before.” Warner simply nodded.

“I shouldn’t have let her go out that late at night but she really wanted to ‘ave toast the next morning and we were out of bread… Bread, I should’ve gotten that when I went to the grocery store that day, such a simple lil’ thing.” The man paused and wiped a drop of sweat off his forehead even though the air was icy. “She went to one of those lil’ shops that are always open late… Not in the best part of town… I waited so long for her to come back. It hadn’t been that late, had it?” The man paused, his voice choking as he pressed on. “She never came back that night. They found ‘er the next morning behind one ‘a those big garbage bins, her floral purse gone and her body…” The man stopped, tears now flowing down his face but never hitting the ground, they simply hovered near his crouched knees. “I’ll never forget that purse, so pretty and delicate, jus’ like her.” The pocket knife that had been in Warner’s hand was now gone, seeing as the carved letters had all been cleaned and the flowers were neatly placed by them, petals glittering with dew that they never should have had time to acquire.“That day when Emily, when Emily died…” The man took a deep breath.
“That’s the day…”
His suit began to shimmer and fade, tattered gloves formed around his now-callused hands.
“That everything…”
A deep burgundy scarf was now around his neck, his clean and chiseled face now covered by a long-forgotten beard, his clear eyes glazed over with pain.”
“Fell apart.”
The tears that had hovered by his knees cascaded down with a thundering ‘splash’.

The man now stooping next to Warner was the homeless man Warner saw sleeping on a rusty bench every morning when he picked up breakfast from a local coffee shop. The man looked to be in his 60’s, tattered and baggy pants tucked sloppily into sneakers with holes in them. The man looked up slowly, his gaze piercing.
“I really loved her.”

- - - - - - -

Warner jolted awake, his body coated in a cold sweat, his arms bracing himself up as he shook uncontrollably. The emotions from the dream washed over him and he screwed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths and working hard not to cry.

He hated dreams like that.

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