Forgotten Twinkles

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June 17th, 2018 by Patrick Starks 

TWINKLED LIFE MAIN

For hours on end, we waited. It had only been in fairytales that we heard of the great Tinkerbelle, yet, there we stood. It was dark, but one would argue that it wasn’t, for her radiant glow was as bright as morning lights. Her wings sparkled like glitter, and it was no secret to any man, not to any at all, that the taste of whiskey could never have been more bitter. I must have been drunk, but I assure you that that wasn’t the case. And out of all the places in the world, who would have thought we would have found her here, in the graveyard.

Me and the little ones, Sailor and Oceana, had traveled far and wide to see such a fairy tale exist. And it was this final piece within the bucket their mother had never gotten the chance to pull out. However, I never believed in such, but what man would any know to turn away from the innocents of their children’s candy eyes—not I.

It hadn’t been long since their mother had passed, a year to be exact. For us, the misses had done her best to fight with every inch of her life—to stay with us was all she wished. She was everything—beautiful, strong, and perfect in every way. But sooner or later that strength would come to past. If any psychic were to tell me that I would never see my wife again, I would never have believed it. But I know she is in a better place now. Yet, still, I cannot help but miss her.

Flowers as orange as Fall rested against her stone. Two pairs of almond eyes twinkled up at me as the one that not stood but sat before us did.

“Momma,” said Oceana. “Mum Momma.”

The fairy of all tales gazed over towards our direction. And from the distance she appeared no larger than a bumble bee, yet, when she made her way over all of that would change.

She was life size. And her warmth became present as incandescent glow bounced off like a muffin upon our skin. Nothing but silence stood between. Without hesitation, Sailor had run over to the mysterious woman wrapping around her legs like the vines that coiled around the setting we became characters for. And not even seconds later, Oceana would do the same. Moonlight beamed down on all three like breaking sun, but much luminescent and gray.

“Momma, mum momma!” Yelled Sailor and Oceana.

But how. How could my once deceased wife be such? She had always been an angel, this I could never deny. But now she wielded the wings to prove it, yet, no halo hovered from above.

“Emery, my love?” said I.

A smile of heaven then opened and with it, a beauty of untold stories. The spotlight that once was, had now spread throughout the whole environment. Wings took flight, leaves blew and flew, and the children clung even tighter to the legs of which I had only dreamt in faint memory or ever knew.

“Hi, FIngo,” said the woman. “How are you love?”

Goosebumps formed upon my skin. And the woman’s soft hands would rub against it like a blind man does braille—it was if she could read my thoughts, more so my body language.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” said the woman. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Wet lips then rubbed against my own. The smell of sweetness became apparent, yet, unfamiliar. The children still hung on, and she did not mind it for she was intertwined with thee—love and family were in the air.

From our past, Emery and I were stars, literally. And it was so that stars could not die, yet, it seemed taking on the life of a mortal was inevitable. The children knew not of what we used to be, and it was probably better that it stayed that way.

The children ran back to the car as what was told for them to do. and Emery and I would have our talk for I was not sold on the idea of who or what she was.

“What’s wrong love?” said the woman.

“Who are you?” said I. “You are not might wife, not in the slightest. And even though you are beautiful and bright, thy will not become one of the blindest.”

Silence stood between once again.

“Oh? And How so?” said the woman.

“You don’t smell like her?” said I. “You don’t even feel like her. And do not be fooled to think my memories to be a blur.”

“And how is a dead woman supposed to smell?” said the woman. “How is a dead woman supposed to feel? Hm… Well, then dig if you feel that way.”

The woman then pointed to the same stone we had not even hours before rested flowers next to. From her wings, she pulled a shovel, and from there I would begin.

Sweat and dirt mixed together, along with elbow grease if such existed, for I cannot recall a time when my elbow even sweated. Not long after, a thump of the shovel and I had found myself to the casket. Not many could say that they had dug up their wife from the ground but I sure as hell could, and don’t even bother asking me how it felt. That is another story to tell.

With hesitation and without, I opened it. It was empty. The car engine started. And the shine that once stood beside me was gone, the environment became dim. Wings rested not far from my feet, along with a jar of which appeared to be filled with sprinkles, glitter perceivably. I ran as hard as any man could when in desperate measures. But I was too late. The car was halfway down the road.

What the hell was going on? The casket of my wife was empty, and the woman that was once depicted as Tinkerbelle had vanished with my babies.

By the wings lied a letter:

Dear Fingo,

You might not remember who I am, but I remember you clear as unstained clothes. For years I have searched of your whereabouts, for a little birdie told me that you were still alive. If you are just now reading this then I assume you have met my assistant Pharra the terror. And it would be wise to do as she asks. for the safety of your family, of course. She will contact you within the next hour, but before then, a couple of things you should know. One, your wife is alive. Two, she and your children will be rejoined, when I feel the time. But three, you will be coming with me. You will be put on trial for the abandonment of your fellow soldiers, for that falling stars are supposed to die when clashing upon a planet, yet, it seems you did not, and quite frankly I find this hard to believe. To think you could just run off into the sunset baffles thee. And oh, happy fathers day, I will be seeing you soon brother.

Regards,

Starburst

 

Game, Set, Match

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June 10th, 2018 by Patrick Starks

GAME SET MATCH MAIN

To: Athena and Maxilla

Some days we can agree are like no others, some days can be quite perfect in fact. However, what is one to do on those days that aren’t so. Do they mop around like sadden dogs or do they bury all thoughts of depression, like a hog—with a hint of hedge.

I was never that, that being the last part at least. I was always the one who moped, the one who complained about life being so hard. And for the times that I needed an explanation for it, my government would always be the culprit for the reasons life was what it was.

It was November 5th, 1992. This was the day such negative thoughts would sway. I wasn’t really a man of talent, but weeks later I would inherit one. It had been years since I saw my father, yet there we stood running back and forward around the court. Our socks were now drenched, and the very thing that made them so would also bring fire to our eyes, literally.

Dad was much older from the time he discovered my talent within. However, he did not lose a step as the years went on—I’d lose to him every time. He trained me all the way until the end, the end of when I would meet my greatest foe, Veronica.

Women were never known to compete with men in sport, but it would seem Veronica would be the first. She wasn’t at all tall but needed not be for what she competed in. Her hair remained tied as always, as it became apparent to me and the other men that it resembled a honeycomb of some sort. And there would be no secret about it that she would be the Queen B of it.

“Be careful with that one son. She looks like bad news,” said Dad.

“Oh,” said mom. “And why is that?”

Dad didn’t say another word after that. For a man that was stuck in his ways of believing a woman could never compete with a man in physical sport, he sure chose the right one to marry. Mom was one of the most prominent advocates for the woman’s movement.  But that is another story to tell—one where I can explain more about the great strengths woman hold.

Over time I had climbed my way all the way up the leaderboard. Dad was proud, and so was I. I had never in my life felt so accomplished, so successful. But then she and I would have our match.

Sweat again brought fire to my eyes for they burned even worst on that day. It was forty-love. Veronica couldn’t have looked any more beautiful than what she was now. Her eyes glistened, and yes, even for a moment thou could not even listen. With her strength and beauty alone, she had frozen me like the mythological Medusa.

“Game, set, match!” yelled the judge.

Before I knew it, I was shaking hands with someone that made me feel that losing wasn’t at all that bad, at least sometimes. Dad’s head was now buried to the ground, and mom rejoiced—she love it. And what better lesson to prove my dad wrong by his own pupil being defeated by that of which he felt was never in a million years possible.

And now it is November 5th, 2012, and still to this day Veronica makes my heart sang. And yes, at times she can be a wild thing. She in the midst of her Tennis career gave me not only love but two beautiful daughters. I had no more talent left from within, except the fact that I would become the worlds greatest dad. Although dad could never understand why I would allow my toenails to be painted, that too is another story to tell, one of which we will discuss through a tea party, along with my daughters of course. 

She didn’t want to but after 2 years of giving birth to Athena and Maxilla, Veronica would have to call it the quits for tennis. For weeks she moped around like a saddened dog. The only thing that made her smile were old videos of the matches she’d won, giggling to the matches she beat me in.

And seeing a part of your heart saddened was something the manliest of man could not even bare, not even dad for that matter. I decided that Veronica and I should have a talk, as I could see that she wasn’t herself anymore. Mom and Dad would, of course, watch the little ones, and soon after our conversation would begin.

Tears flowed down her eyes like rain to windows, as the air from her mouth shivered. Her hair was no longer in that honeycomb bun I adored so much. It concealed her chocolate eyes, but for every moment I got I would pull them back just to get a chance to see them again. 

“What do I do now,” said Veronica. “I had it all, but now it’s all gone.”

I told her I used to feel the same way until I met her. And she smiled, just as she had done the day we had our first match. But I had to give it to her. She pointed no fingers—not at the government, not at any other. She knew what she wanted and how she felt. She just needed to find a way to fill the void that lingered. Lucky for her she had two little princesses waiting for her when we came back home. She squeezed them tighter than I had ever seen her do—it was a Kodak moment, more so a Nikonic moment if you catch what I’m saying.

But I won’t tell you that we all lived happily ever after. In life thing sadly don’t come to that. Half of my heart had now left me— it was November 5th, 2016. The girls were grown up now, Maxilla was even in High school. Although, Veronica…

Well, let’s just say I brought her roses every Friday until the day I would lie next to her. And dad as well lied in the same yard. It was just me and mom now, and the princess. Life was hard again, but a saddened dog I was not. I buried it all like a hog, without the hint of hedge though.

All my life I had tried to find ways of making life better for myself, making it safe and secure. But none of it mattered. What mattered the most was what spoke to me from within. A wise woman told me once that sometimes the simple things in life are all that matters. I never understood that for my head was always wrapped in success, and hopes that the money from it would make me happy, and free. But now I see what she meant. Thank you, love, we will one day again be two turtles doves.

My only purpose in life now was to be happy, to be one. To show my little girls that life can be whatever you want it to be, regardless of the money or the fame you have for these my friends are only materialistic—it is only skin from a tree at the end.

But it would not be long before mom passed and I not long after. Mom was old of course, but I had been diagnosed with a broken heart that could no longer go on. My only regret was that my little girls would go on the rest of their lives without their mom or dad. And I hoped I taught them well.

To my princess stay strong and keep your racquet back always, and yes, before the ball hits the ground. Mom and I love you both. Go to the basement, there is a safe. The code is 5-4-3-2-1. Trust me, no one could guess something so predictable. Life has been beautiful because we had you two. Remember the simple things for I never learned this until now. Life can be a game sometimes, but you can set it however you want, and through this, I promise you will find would you seek, you will find your match. 

Here I come love.

Sincerely,

Dad

Ring around the Rosie

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June 3rd, 2018 by Patrick Starks 

RING AROUND MAIN

It had been only a couple of years since I left home. Yet, here I stand in a room of which use to be my boy cave. It feels like I never left. And mom and dad without a doubt were probably what I would define as the best parents on the planet, but let’s be honest, most of us say that about our parents, know.

And what more could a little boy, or girl, ask for—loving parents that is. It had been years since then, but still, I remember it clear as sun-filled oceans, and the tide would never be too high for me to see beyond its golden horizons. Yes, the smell of the sea—the smell of which always brings back beautiful memories—to us all.

Flight Thirty-one B it was.  Ready to onboard the passengers, as we were ready to onboard it—and a couple of shots of Jim Bean would make it just that easy to do so. Liquid courage burned down our fragile throats, along with the dizziness of forgetfulness. However, it was that very courage where many of us would have many regrets. But I am not one to assume. I’ll let you all tell your own story through the comments if you wish.

“All aboard!” yelled the woman with the fedora. No, sorry, it was a pirate hat. But can we all agree that pirate hats don’t obtain feathers, and if so, poor Parrot. But that too is another story to tell.

Nevertheless, I could tell that the woman was, in fact, a pirate groupie, but not because of the hat, or whatever it was—only the name of Johnny Debb was enough to give off the idea of this. Someone should have informed her that we weren’t onboarding a ship, but a plane, if she even understood the difference. But I would assume whatever job one applies for, that they would know all about it if not more. Yet, I am saddened to admit common sense is now a forgotten art in the wisp of this shameful era we live.

But let me rewind a bit so that you all don’t have a fit…

At that moment, arms would wrap around me like spaghetti to a fork. And it was always mom that would have her ways of making me look like such a dork—especially, in front of pretty girls, or women for that matter. And more than mom, Dad, of course, had his phobia of airplanes as he refused to ever get on one. His favorite quote as I am sure many of you have heard from those afraid of heights:

“If God wanted us to fly, then he would have given us wings.”

Yeah, I know, right. Sounds like something out of a Redbull commercial, or something Rockstar or Full Throttle would say to knock them off the leaderboard at least.  But neither of the three are good for our bodies. Yet, here I sit writing this letter to you all downing a shot of Bacardi—it would not be false to call me a hypocrite—no shame here.

Sooner or later I would finally be on my way to Hawaii. And I’ll just let your imagination determine where in Hawaii I landed, agreed? This is your adventure too, is it not?

And being so young, and in my prime, love was never really on my mind as many who go to Hawaii think of this. Although, after a few heartbreaks anyone would feel that way—emotionless, and pale as a vampire. Or do vampires sparkle now? Never mind.

But only adventure rattled in my heart, and it was an adventure that I hoped to find as many of us seek until the day we die. I wanted to be known for something, I wanted to be one of the greats, like Michael Jackson or something—to be legendary. And word around town was that there was someone known as the “Rose,” who could get me there. I had no talents at all. But many had said that they had gone to this Rose and found their talents from within. Even Oprah herself had spoken of this, and what the Rose had done—how could anyone refuse to look for such. The only thing I worried was that I knew that it wouldn’t be cheap if celebrities had gone to this mysterious person. But I had my ways of persuasion.

Rosie, was actually her name when we met. And her cheeks were just that if your wondering. But for whatever reason, she preferred to go as the Rose. I had only been in Hawaii for just a few days. And for at least three days straight I searched for this so-called “Rose.” And out of it all, I would find the little mermaid.

She was at least four-foot-ten, but her boots made up for it. And don’t get me started on why anyone would wear boots in Hawaii, but this is what she wore. Her eyes sparkled just as the Pacific, and her skin was as caramel as the sand I walked. Many men would have melt in the presence of such, but not me, adventure was still at hand you see. And no matter how much the bulge in my pants said otherwise, I was not that kind of man… I, was not that kind of man—I only thought with my heart and soul.

“So… Are you just going to stare at me all day like some pervert?” she asked. “Or are you going to tell me your name?”

She looked frustrated, but her gorgeousness hid it well. I froze. And became as most men do in front of such a siren—speechless.

“Ok… Then at least tell me why you are here,” she asked.

And just before I could answer, soft hands gifted me comfort as they pulled me like any mother would do their child. And within just a few seconds, Rosie had pulled me to her breast. I mean, her chest… It all felt like a dream, nothing but her lips that is, and my nose would become hypnotized by the scent of them.

Without hesitation, she pulled away from me and looked around as if she’d seen a ghost. Was it my breath? No, I promise I had at least two sticks of Trident plus the one still in my mouth. Bad breathe was impossible.

“Sorry about that. But y-you shouldn’t be here. This place is dangerous,” said Rosie. “Lots of bad men come here to find treasures.”

Beady eyes lingered from the shadows. She wasn’t kidding, bad men were all around. But none were as bad as this Blue belt in Taekwondo. It’s not a black belt, but hey, should be enough to take down any average man right? Hopefully, they say go, before we start.

“Look I don’t do that anymore,” Said Rosie. “I’m retired.”

I pleaded with her. She didn’t look a day over twenty-five after all. Surely, she could squeeze in just one more adventure. Her eyes drew into the floor, and her breathing became still. I could tell that it had been lingering within her beautiful forehead for quite some time—she needed just one more—one more adventure. It was apparent that she still was searching for something as well. But what?

Before I knew it, we were on our way to the promise land. And little did I know, there would be no promises.

“There!” yelled Rosie. “There is where we start.”

And it was there we eventually stood. One of the largest mountains I’d ever seen.  Yet, it was no secret at all that I had guessed it right—it was a volcano.

One would think me crazy or a liar to say I had explored the ring of fire. But my friends, this I conquered as Rosie and I had traveled even further than Hawaii. It was glorious. I had become more of a man than I had ever been known to become. I now had a full beard, which Rosie always hinted I should cut off or clean. She rescheduled appointments on numerous occasions, expecting me to someday go to her beautician, but still to this day I have not. On my skin were tattooed battle scars to show the mates when I returned home, just how much of a man I had become. And of course, I would get laughed out of the room—they just didn’t believe it.

And still, no talent did I find on my adventure. I’m not even sure if that was the point of it from the get-go. Yet, I had found love. I had found my ring, I had found Rosie.

 

 

 

Space Ashes

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May 28th, 2018 by Patrick Starks

SPACE ASHES MAIN

Every adult was once a child, and every child had dreams, this we can all agree, know. Some wanted to be fireman, some wanted to be doctors, some wanted to be pilots, and it was for some these fairy tales would come true. However, for me, I wanted to be, and don’t laugh, like my favorite superhero—Captain Planet. Now many of you might not know or remember who this person was but, I do. Besides, we have google for those who are still confused on where this is leading to.

Unfortunately, I lacked the super abilities/capabilities to do such. But one can still dream can’t we. I pondered days and nights on how I could make this so-called dream of mine come true. I was determined. No matter how far it seemed out of reach, or impossible, I still remained committed to the task.

But being an astronaut was the closest I could think of to becoming Captain planet— maybe even just a pilot now that I think of it. But I’ve never really been one to do what others do. In this life, we already have enough pilots. I wanted something of my own. As I’m sure the rest of you feel the same.

Not long after. No, it was in fact long after I would be no longer a child but a man, and minus the muscles sadly. And with that life, I was blessed with children of my own. What more could a man ask for—three gorgeous little girls—Coco, Cosette, and Cecily—triplets.

They are the most precious little girls any human being could ever bare their eyes upon. It made me nervous though, for all I could think of was when they came to age how many boys would try and sweep them off their feet. But I knew boys, I was once one myself, and at that age, I knew exactly what they wanted. But nuh ugh, not going to happen as that is another story to tell. I was lucky, however. They took after their mother.

But if your reading this than I am no longer alive. But thanks to my daughters, the dream I sought for so long has somewhat become a reality. I just wish I could share this moment with them.

Coco, who in fact loved cocoa was a tough one to break, she had quite the temper, but as most mothers do, the misses would put an end to it one way or another. Still, to this day, those two still bump heads like rams, but its all out of love I guess, right? By the time Coco had hit middle school, her attitude would dim, and all that was great about her would shine. She was honored throughout her whole class as she the student, had now become the teacher. I still mourn for the teacher that lost his or her job, but greatness was greatness, there was no hiding that.

Cosette, oh, my little Cosette player. Now, this is where things get interesting. As many of them did, Cosette had taken after her mothers’ brilliant mind, becoming the best mathematician of the country and later internationally. It came as a surprise to me and the misses out of the three girls, Cosette would be the one to take on such a gift—in her early ages, Cosette always struggled with such.

Miraculously, Cosette had blossomed right into brilliancy; something the misses and I always thought Coco would inherit, which she did overtime. However, she still was not as good as Cosette, not in the slightest.

And it wouldn’t be long before our Cecily would come to the rankings.

Cecily was what most would call the muscle of the group. Completely opposite of her sisters, yet one would be a fool to believe that her mind was not bright as well. Unlike her sisters, she had not outdone or embarrassed any of her professors. Cecily was definitely the merciful kind as I knew that she held back a lot. I had a talk with her, as Captain Planet would, I thought. And then it would be her that would become the newly blossomed flower of the family.

Out of all her track team, including her coach, including the men even, would dominate track and field. She became a hero to woman all over, and her sisters as well. But due to a late injury, she would have to give up such glory as she could not bounce back from what was. Through her time of misery, she developed a passion for building, and it was so that she did. She built incredible things, things that not even Bill Gates himself could think of—Cecily was a freak of… No. Cecily was an angel.

I had just turned seventy-four years old. It was my birthday. Yet, to make a long story, I had become very sick. It felt something like kryptonite being shoved into my stomach, although, I was no Superman, nor did I want to be.

Four beautiful women surrounded me. Four angels, my greatest treasures.

Tears flowed like oceans and rivers to no end. Not being able to bear the pain in her heart, my love had left the room. We had been through a lot together but this I found was her breaking point. We will see each other again, this I promise love.

And next to me, to my left to be exact, stood my three little astronauts. They weren’t little anymore, this I know, but cant a parent still dream a dream that was once a reality.

Time was running out for me. I could feel this. I asked my angels one promise before I went on to another life. One that I knew that their mother would not allow. But what momma don’t know, won’t hurt her right?

To be cremated, to have my ashes spread into space was my final and only wish. Well, plus for them to take care of their mother, but this is obvious.

And they later became to be one of the first woman astronauts as I knew they would become.

And can you guess where I am now? Well then take a telescope and see the promise that I and my family have vowed.

Theft Collector

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May 20th, 2018 by Patrick Starks 

Theft Collector COVER

To whom finds this,

Theft collectors. Let’s see, what kind of story could we possibly tell about a theft collector. And what does it even mean? Well, the truth is my friends, we cannot for that story of the theft collectors are real. And it was such that existed long before your parents time, or their parents for that matter. I cannot really tell you how valuable books are today, but back then or whatever time you have wrapped around your imaginary minds, books were as good as gold you see, and it was this that a theft collector cherished more than life itself.

Saba, whom you all do not know of at the moment, was what many would call pure beauty—something just as remarkable as the statues in Rome—like the David, created by the great Michelangelo. And if, if it were even possible to sculpt an actual human being in the ways of such, Saba would be depicted as the first. But, let’s be honest my circle of friends, this would be nothing but plastic surgery at its finest—by the finest doctor of course.

But with such wielding beauty came strong knowledge. That of which she had gained from the many books that she collected. The force was strong in this one. Sadly, most of the men that were in her vicinity did not care for such value in a woman, nor the books; they only cared about the exterior at the end of the day. Let did they know you should never judge a book by the cover for it is possible it can become a true lover.

Indeed, my friends Saba was something else, and I guess you have already assumed by now that her love was in books. But let us slow down shall we, and not jump into conclusion, we do not know if she is the theft collector just yet.

Family right. Let me explain this in short—her father was an author and her mother a singer, it was not a shock that she would develop an appetite for the arts. But only when she had read her first book, did she come to this path of becoming a theft collector. Her first book was called the Seven Seas, that of which gave her life meaning, it opened her eyes it had helped her see.

But chuckle all you want. Saba was no sailor, no, no, no, yet never in the worst of storms would she ever catch a cold. Saba’s ship was the biggest of them all, and the mirror, mirror on the wall wouldn’t dare deny such that would be questioned or called. Maid Marian, they called it, and can you guess my friends what book Saba might have gotten the name from. No, I’m sure you’ll figure it out, sooner or later.

And knighted by her crewmates on the ship, Saba would be titled the little mermaid. Saba was short, standing only five-foot tall. However, calling her a mermaid would be an overstatement as she wasn’t the best of swimmers. But my friends that is another story to tell, as many things for this swimming beauty were not always swell.

Now grab your luggage or coffee if you will, and let us onboard the ship shall we. But be wary friends for this will be no tropical vacation.

On the Maid Marian there lied a safe. All the crewmates believed that it was their rent money, but sadly for them in that very safe bestowed only books. Saba had no money but to her books were as good as gold, and this I have told. Books are life cant you see.

It was a stormy night. Wet as October. the men on the ship chortled, and Saba would do the same same as she was unaware that they spoke only of the woman waiting back at home in cry for names.

They partied the whole night, until their heart’s content.  Things couldn’t have been as glorious as they were now. Yet, Saba had her eye on only one thing—Codex Leicester. Yes, the book of books, the scientific book of the great Leonardo Di Vinci. Saba was no scientist or inventor, but to have the book of books was something she felt she was more deserving of than many.

To make a long story short, the book was collected by many greats before our time. However, Saba was known to be the last. It is said today that the Bill Gates the founder of Microsoft now wields the book in his creative hands. Little does he know, the book he holds is not what he thinks. Don’t believe me, then let me tell you friends, but hold tightly for we or on brinks of crashing—hopefully, there will be survivors.

Before Gates, the book was home, in Italy. A place Saba had not been. I do not know how but Saba somehow had the map to it all. Most importantly, to the many places where Leonardo had hidden many of his inventions. She had collected many of them, some underwater even, but this particular book was one that she found herself in a maze to grasp. But the main thing she seemed to overlook was Divinici’s birthplace—Anchiano, Italy.

Saba had always joked about clues of the book being hidden in the book of Pinnochio, however, most of the men aboard the Maid Marian believed it to all be true. Silly they were for that it was not Leonardo who wrote this.

“Have any of you even read that book before?” Questioned a crewmate. “I mean, how would the writer know, and why would he hide in a story.”

All the men on the board then aye yay’. They all felt the same, but what captain believes, is captains truth, many would say through their intoxicated lips.

“There!” yelled Saba. “We are here. Everyone grab your things we are going.”

The men looked at each awkwardly and then began doing so. “What captain want, we do,” said the illiterate one of the bunch. Or was it the alcohol speaking? Who knows, who cares. Continuing.

Now for the grand finale. And we did not crash friends, or we have.

There everyone stood in a deserted home. Something similar to a lighthouse, yet no lights in the slight. Saba took the map that rolled within her olive hands and then began to burn it.

“C-Captain, what are you doing?” said the non-illiterate.

Everyone’s heart dropped, except for hers. “I think mermaid gone mad,” said yes, the illiterate one. It is confirmed.

The fire grew taller as the map burned. Smoked filled the air, but all would flow like rivers to a crack in the floor—it was an unusual draft. Without hesitation, Saba took a shovel from one of the mates and burrowed. Light spouted from the crack as each and every chip of wood on the floor would become no more. And it was this that Saba adored. The exterior of Saba’s eyes became wet not like October but like water from a water jug that had sat long enough in a refrigerator to become cold. And now Saba would hold, the Codex Leicester.

The men did not know of the many books Saba held in her safe but they would forever know about the Codex Leicester. It would not be long before they would all plot to take the book from her, as they all knew such would bring them all the booze, all the virgin woman in the world that they could dream of. And oh, would it be a shame to see such power get used in ways, as we all still witness somewhat of this today.

Many nights Saba slept with one eye open, becoming alone as there was no longer anyone that she could trust. Only Dino, her dog did she trust—and now you all know where The Flintstones got the name of there pet from. And no my friends, it would not be because of the obvious, that of which I know you argue with me. But that is another story to tell, a story that of your own.

But let me say this final goodbye.

Saba lived on to be one of the greatest book collectors of all time, and was labeled the theft collector as she had stolen most of them. Her life was fulfilled and along with it, she bared to baby girls—Bell and Ariel. And I shouldn’t have to tell you where she got those names from.

And just before her death, she would forge the pages of the Codex Leicester for it was only seventy-two pages long. This is the book that Mr. Gates now holds. And can you guess where the book is now my friends? Look around then.

Sincerely,

Dino Jr. Saba

 

 

 

 

 

 

Twinkled Stars

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May 13th, 2018 by Patrick Starks 

TWINKLED STAR MAIN 2

Emery was once one of the most beautiful stars of the night sky. She twinkle twinkled, yet she was not a little star, not in the slightest. She was much larger than all the rest, and for that, she was not hard to spot out. And she was only one hundred years old you see, which was much younger than the other the stars that soared around her and over the seven seas. And for these reasons, these so-called others would hate poor Emery more than anything. Indeed, she was, in fact, a star; however, others would argue that she hogged the spotlight a little too often if you catch thy drift.

And for many years of the light, Emery would twinkle twinkle on her own, as many did not want to do so with her, at least not on their own. It wouldn’t be long before sadness would dim the very light she held so dear. She couldn’t have felt anymore alone than what she was now. Only until there was Fingo, did the ropes of sadness unbind from her. Yet, Fingo wasn’t a star at all my friends, not anymore—this is where the harmony of our story begins.

Before his transformation into humanly figure, Fingo was known as Shujaa Nyota—meaning Warrior star. And like most whispered stories of the night, there is still not much said about these, audacious warriors. But, but over time others would create their own stories as many of us have seen throughout our ages. But do not be fooled for that this is no myth—this, you will one day realize in the day of your passing.

There was only one story in particular. A story that would not only be told to the baby stars in the skies but to the babies of the grounded. Heavens Cannons it was called. And the synopsis is that the warrior stars were designed to be weapons of the heavens—all of which was to fight the devil himself. Although, the Devil had stars of his own you see, stars of which we today call volcanoes. But, I am sorry to inform that this story will have to be for another time my friends, for that I fear even the most remote whisper could be the end of me.

Little did any human know, stars packed quite the punch if shot at the right speed—some say enough to destroy entire planets. Yet, it would seem that Fingo was just a dud. Not dying with your brothers was the worst fate for a warrior—it was not honorable. And it was this that gave Fingo no urge to come back to the night skies.  He like Emery would be burdened with a life of loneliness. But the two did not know that soon this burden would be voided.

It has been years now since Fingo was shot through the breeze of what we take in every day. He had blended in well. He now had hands and feet along with a scent of sweet.  And wielded hair so sparkly that made all the girls around stare, as their men all lied in defeat. It did not take long for Fingo to realize that humans sometimes fear what they do not understand. But let’s be honest with ourselves, these behaviors are usually jealously and envy at its finest.

As much as Fingo felt it be a curse, he was unique in his own way—he did not conform to what others felt he should be or felt that he was. He was no freeloader, no murder, no psychopath or pervert for that matter, so he had to be somewhat alright in the books, and it was this he ran over in his mind religiously.

It is still murmured throughout the stars that signs of Fingo can still be seen if one looks hard enough. However, most were only joking with this analogy. But Emery, no, Emery did not joke. She did not know FIngo, neither had she met him. But with the radiant glow from down below, she knew that at least one of them was the real deal. There became an immediate connection, as well as reflection between the two if you still follow me. But let me stop this foolishness of mine and get on with the crescendo shall we.

“Momma,” said Emery. “Could you please tell me the story of the shooting stars again,”

Unlike all the other stars, Emery’s momma was no star at all. And no she was no Warrior star, however, there were such that existed. Emery’s mother was nothing like Fingo, but much bigger—Emery’s momma was the moon. And yes, this was another reason for others to hate her, another reason why she was the brightest of them all, yet she had vowed to never let even a cloud hear her whisper it. And she thanked the heavens that they had never done.

“My sweet Emery don’t you think you’re a little too old for those kinds of stories now,” said Momma moon. “I’ve told you that story a thousand times. Including the thousand times when you were just a freckle in the sky. It’s just a fairy tale, my dear.”

Emery puffed. “Yes. But, momma how could you have told me that story a thousand times if I am only one hundred years old? It’s not even possible. And it’s not a fairy tale.”

They say sometimes the moon smiles on the brightest of nights. Emery was a smart little star-child and Mother moon was proud of that. Everything Mother moon had said went one ear out of the other, which in star form was Emery’s second and third point—stars usually have five points so I would hope many followed this; nevertheless, I have explained it now.

And it would be decades since Emery had seen her father. She thought about what he would say or what he would do for that he was known to be the adventurous kind. But as much as she wanted an answer, to see him, she knew that it could never happen.  Emery’s mother and father only saw each other on the day of which we humans call the eclipse. Can you guess who her father is now? And as much as she hates it when her mother talks about it, this was the day she was conceived.

Emery had always wanted to see her father as most little girls do. However, there were rules. And with those rules there would be grave consequences if crossed. Stars could not come out during the day. Yet, Emery had still crossed them as rebellion was a thing for any child who did not get there way, especially girls. Sorry ladies, but you know it’s true.

Fingo, she’d whisper in her shiny and mighty center. Fingo would gaze up towards the skies, gazing at a particular star that shined brighter than the others, almost the moon in fact.

Overtime all the other stars would fade as they had gone restless of not being seen. Emery and her mother still shined bright as always. However, her mother had dozed off as she was known to do on occasion. It was evident that even the moon needed some sleep every now and then—one would be a fool to believe she slept during the day—oh, my friends, this as well would be another story to tell.

Now let us take it to the falsetto. One, two, three.

Emery had made a voluntary fall, plummeting straight into the Pacific. Because of this, she caused an aftershock that would cause Tsunamis all around the world, but thankfully they were not large enough to cause any tragedies, she hoped.

Stories of mermaids then would be birthed onto planet Earth. Little did anyone of you know that this was somewhat true for that there were signs of a woman in the ocean. But this was no mermaid, nor fish, this was in fact, Emery. And over the years of her disappearance, Fingo would grow into a fine young man, becoming one of the worlds greatest sailors. Some say that he has saved more than a dozens men’s life on the many travels he’s gone. He would eventually take on the nickname of Poseidon. But do not worry, where not going into mythologies. FIngo was no god unless you believe stars to be such.

To make a long story short, as you were all expecting such to be. Driven by un-fainted and un-honorable pain in his heart. Fingo promised that he would find the mermaid many have talked about for centuries before his coming to pass, as it seemed he was now a full human. Emery, on the other hand, waited, for that she still felt close to what she sought for so long. She was now a young woman. She as well wielded hands and feet, along with a scent not so sweet—she smelt of the sea—fishy but managed well.

The two would eventually meet, and this is where our story hits the peek.

Instantly the two became lovers. They lived a life together that was what most in this life still dream of, as well as I. They had two beautiful twins, boy, and girl, of whom they named Sailor and Oceana. For two people that used to be so alone in the world, it is truly magical how misery can easily become beauty. Patients is key my friends—this we must treasure.

The stars in the sky rejoiced for that they now were being seen. The moon sobbed, but eventually, Emery had brought comfort to her that she was ok. Mother moon became a proud grandmother, and Father sun, well let’s just say him and Fingo still had their words. One should know not to take another’s daughter without permission.

But let this beauty linger in your minds for that you and me are all one of a kind, you are not alone my friends. And if it is such you believe, then do no whisper to me.

Go to the ocean. And whisper to Emery and FIngo, the two twinkled stars of the sea.

 

 

 

 

 

Animal Kingdom

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May 6th, 2018, by Patrick Starks

ANIMAL KINGDOM MAIN

It’s not everyday one thinks about what will become of them after death. However, most today believe that their souls will wither away from their bodies off into space, as they join a new kingdom unlike their own—heaven, they call it.

Although, it wasn’t like that at all, at least not for a selected few. You see for some there was no heaven, there was no hell, yet there was the animal kingdom. Most would assume the animal kingdom was for animals only, that in fact of which it was; but on the contrary, what those animals were before is where this story takes place.

There was once a little a crow. Hupa, the crow of crows they called him. For a leader, he was still so young. He was only thirteen years old when his life got turned upside down. And as cool as it was to fly, to be a bird in general, all he could think of was his family. Day after day he soared the clouds in hopes to find them. But never did any recognizable faces appear.

At times when it was quiet, Hupa could still hear the sobs of his precious momma and feel the anger of his heroic daddy parade in his feathery chest. Many in the animal kingdom had their own story to tell, yet none knew of Hupa’s, as he was still nothing but a mystery to all.

The images weren’t at all that clear, but he could still somewhat remember, he could still hear. It was just only months before school was out, and it would be soon time for summer; time for supper, his momma would always say. And it was Hupa and his friends that would start such off the right way, their sanctuary—Willows Pipe.

Willows Pipe was their greatest challenge, their greatest defeat, and all had sworn on the boards they rode that this was the summer they would be victorious. It had been a long winter, but none had longed for such taste in redemption as much as Hupa. It was the only thing he cared about. To be the greatest was his only goal in life, and Willows Pipe he felt stern, would gain him that.

One after the other each child made their attempt. Two hours had gone by already—all refused to give up. And by the fourth hour, they all made their final move. From the bruises and scrapes around their fragile bodies, any loving mother would cradle them as if they were still infants if it were their own. Many who’d gone before Hupa had failed miserably, yet he was still determined he would not. His knees were red wine—the mixture of blood and dirt did this. He breathed heavily, his eyes burned from the sweat that slid down from his forehead, and his shirt was now no different than any wet towel from a bathroom shower.

One push from his board and he was off. There was steady balance, there was grace. The pipe rattled then snapped at just steady pace. At an instance, what flowed had now stopped. Screams lingered in the background which was loud of course but faded along with Hupa as the seconds went by.

There he lied on the concrete floor staring at a kingdom he thought was. And there it was that Hupa soared over his past, what it at least used to be. There now only remained cracks in the concrete where nature had now embraced, as a flower after hour grew between.

“Why are we here young Hupa?” said a crow. “You know Shona does no like it when we go off like this.”

If a crow could drop a tear, Hupa would be the first. “We don’t even know if Shona exist… Besides, I just needed to see.”

“Careful with your words Hupa. Be very careful,” pointed the crow. “So, what is it that you see?”

“Greatness. Family. Sadness. But more so sadness. Tell me something Blaze?”

Blaze then flew down from an old street light, landing on a rail next to Hupa. “Yeah?”

“Why am I here, why do I still exist?” said Hupa. “Why do you exist, why the animal kingdom? I mean, I could be with my grandparents at least.”

Blaze was silent. Thoughts floated above his head, yet Hupa could not catch a single one, not unless Blaze wanted him to. And Blaze knew that Hupa was right—Hupa had a point, he could have at least been with his grandparents. However, the animal kingdom was where he was brought, and there would be a reason for that Blaze had explained. Yet, Blaze hesitated. He swore that he would never tell any of the other the truth for that some he knew could not bear it. However, he had been moved by Hupas heart—it reminded him of himself once, and his family.

“Because… Hupa, you have still have so much to give to the world,” said Blaze. “You are here because your job is not yet done. And yet, you have done so much already. I know it’s hard but you are not done.”

Hupa then turned to his neck as if he was an owl instead of a crow. “What are you saying?”

“Think about. Who is the oldest of our kingdom?” said Blaze.

Hupa thought long and hard. There was only one that he was for sure of. You, he replied.

“Yes, I who am only 29, am I not?” asked Blaze.

Hupa replied with a blustery face. “Yeah. But, what does that mean?”

“It means that our time was too soon. That we have only begun to scratch the service of our lives, and in return, we were given second chances, so that we may finish them. We are all still babies in the eyes of the world,” said Blaze. “And for that reason, we cannot be rejoined with the elders until we have shown growth.”

Hupa still didn’t get it. He was a crow after all, how could he possibly achieve what he attempted before with just wings alone and stick-figured legs. Frustration began to ruffle through his onyx feathers.

One would think when they come back from the afterlife, that they will get to see there loved ones again, but for the Animal Kingdom this would be an unfortunate falsity—time seems slow but goes dramatically faster in the afterlife.

If he couldn’t ride Widows Pipe, if he couldn’t restore his parent’s broken hearts, then what else was there to do, Hupa thought.

The sounds of rubber tires then burrowed through rocks and sand—Hupa knew exactly what it was. And to his right, there would be a child, a young girl. He hadn’t much luck with the ladies of his time, but something about this one he felt safe to approach.

“(CAW) Look!” said Hupa. And the young girl looked up at him as if she had heard what he said.

Blaze twisted and turned his head like most crows—like a psychotic man or woman. “Did she just hear you?”

“I-I don’t know,” said Hupa. “(Ca CAW)Hello!”

And at the caw of hello the young girl smiled—a bright one—with two missing teeth at the bottom and one at the top. She waved at them both.

“I think she heard me,” Said Hupa.

“if you ask me I think she should be more careful with that piece of wood. I mean, look at her teeth?” said Blaze.

Hupa then took his left wing and made an attempt to wave back. “Be nice, she’s just a little girl, no younger than what we use to be. And the board is called a skateboard you crowdiot. What era were you from again?”

“That’s none of your concern. Just know that it was a great one, “ said Blaze. “Now let’s get going.”

Blaze had flown off, but behind him was no Hupa, only a sheading feather. Hupa had made his mind up–he now realized what his purpose was or what he felt it to be.

“If I cannot have my old life back, I will at least live it through hers. I will teach her my mistakes, I will teach her my faults so that she can one day be greater than the greats, greater than I ever was. And maybe she will have a family with unbroken hearts.” said Hupa as he attempted to clinch his fist. But let’s be honest, they were wings not hands.

Blaze was now embraced with the sun and clouds before he realized Hupa stayed behind. To make a long story short, the word got out about what Hupa had done. And the story has been told too many others who joined the animal kingdom. Written by the author Blaze himself.

Hupa and the young girl overtime became best friends. She ended up being one of the world’s greatest skateboarders, exceeding one’s like even the great Tony Hawk. She became legendary, and a role model for all little girls alike. Only then did Hupa return to the animal kingdom, and only then would he be rejoined with his family.

His mother and father wept and held him as tightly as they did when he was just a newborn—protectively and careful.

“My Hupa… I’m so sorry, I should’ve been there for you, I should’ve protected you,” said his mother holding him in her arms. “Look at you, y-your just a bird. But you’re my little bird.”

His father said nothing as he was known to be the silent type and stood over his mom in support of it all. Deep down his father wanted to cry harder than his mother but refused to show it, still. With all the love and rejoice in the air, all that Hupa had now accomplished—he would then take back into his original form. Although,  he was no longer a little snot nose kid. He was a man now, and a handsome one. Golden brown skin, night-sky eyes, with silky, somewhat milky ash colored hair.

The twist is. Little did anyone know, that Hupa was Shona all along.

The END

-Blaze the Crowdiot

Miss Darby

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April 29, 2017, by Patrick Starks 

MISS DARBY MAIN

Not many people in life get to meet their soul mates. Not many even get to see a wedding for that matter. I know I still haven’t.  And for Miss Darby, time was ticking. She had just entered into her thirties and to make matters worst, all of her childhood friends were getting married—it was the dream they had all dreamt. Yet, the dream was still just a dream for Miss Darby. Miraculously, all of her friends would be pregnant at the same time, with each one of their bellies forming in the shape of bowling bowls as the months went on. The baby shower was going to be one of the biggest ever thrown, and the most expensive—Miss Darby’s wallet cried and she along with it.  She was lonely, however, one would be a fool to think that she had not been loved or had someone special in her life.

It wasn’t long ago Miss Darby had stumbled upon the man of her dreams. Although, he wasn’t quite the dream her mother expected. He was Abercrombie handsome and wielded a smile that would make any miserable old fool smile again.  Regardless of his stunning features, it would seem he was not a man of wealth and for that Mother Darby would disapprove.

The man worked for a local grocery in the town as the lead cashier—where every Monday through Friday he would open and closed the store—exhaustingly falling into the arms of Miss Darby when he returned. No matter his job title, Miss Darby’s friends who she envied so, adored the man. In fact, they praised the man—it made them all have regret of taking another’s hand. Their husbands all had money of course, but it was the man’s heart that they treasured the most. And it wouldn’t take long for the husbands of those women to form a rebellion. It was easy to say that the men were not fond of  Miss Darby’s future husband.

In the beginning, Miss Darby and her soul mate whom everyone called Nova, were depicted as the ideal couple; just like the ones in romantic films or novels. Even though the two were not wedded yet, they had thoughts of children—at least Miss Darby did for that she was getting no younger. The pressure from her mother and her friends could not be any more stressful than it was then.

“My dear when are you and that whatever going to give me some grandbabies?” said Mother Darby as she stirred inside a boiling pot.

The smell was so hypnotizing that Miss Darby almost ignored such a rude question. She was starving, yet still would not tolerate that sort of disrespect for the man she loved.

“Come on mom he’s a great guy. And his name is Nova for your information,” said Miss Darby chopping away the vegetables in front of her.

Her mother grinned. “Whatever. I told you, you should have stayed with Berry, Brian, whatever the hell his name was.”

“You mean Brandon…”

“Yes that’s the one,” nodded mother Darby.

Miss Darby was in no need to get into a discussion with her mother. Her mother did not know the whole truth to the story, as in life most do not. Brandon had lots of money, he ran his own business,  he was good-looking, but he was unfaithful to Miss Darby every chance he got. Alcohol on his breath, perfume on his clothes, and faded red lips around his neck was enough to verify where Brandon might have been, more so, what he might have done.  And Nova was none of that, except the good looking part.

Not long after Miss Darby and Nova would have one of the most awkward dinners any could have. Mother Darby sipped on her bowl of soup but her eyes did not leave Novas’.

“Um… T-thank you for the soup Mother Darby. I have to say it’s the best I’ve ever had,” said Nova shaking his spoon all the way up to his mouth.

He was nervous and mother Darby loved it. She replied. “Oh, you say the best eh?”

Nova nodded, and a soft hand from underneath the table rested on his knee for assurance that everything would be alright. There were many uncomfortable words spoken that night. Luckily for Nova, it went by fast; however, when they had gotten back home he would find that the night had just begun.

“Ah-h’m,” puffed Miss Darby.  “ So, do you want to have kids or not?”

Nova sighed within his reply. “Honey, where not even married yet. Plus we just moved in together just a few months ago.”

His words were valid. Although, any other man would have known to put a little more icing on those words, for their own sake of course. Miss Darby then ran into their bedroom with tear after tear clashing against the hardwood floor. The door slammed and, behind it sadness and sobs.

Nova felt awful afterward. He wasn’t the smartest man in the world, but he was no fool, he knew exactly how women in her situation felt. Miss Darby reminded Nova of his sister he had not seen in years. His sister experienced the same, and in some ways to Nova, much worst. It still felt like yesterday his sister had told him how she felt, the reason why she left.

Sister Nova:

“You just don’t get it Nova. Men have no idea what women go through every day. The pressure we face. You all walk around like roosters with your chest out knowing you have all the time in the world to have a child, so long you have someone young. But for us it’s not like that, we can’t all have children in our fifties or sixties. Neither would I want to. Mom pressures me every day but all you do is laugh and do nothing. You tell mom I don’t want kids, and I don’t want this family. Goodbye Nova!”

Nova at the time was so young he thought his sister was joking. He laughed. However, he did not laugh after seven years had come to pass.

A couple of hours had now gone by, Miss Darby came out of the bedroom with eyes still teary like the stars. “I’m sorry…” said Miss Darby. No reply was given, the room was empty and there was no Nova.

A letter written like a child was left on the back of an old photo of the two—their first photo. Nova’s handwriting wasn’t the best, but Miss Darby cherished it more than life itself, she laughed tearfully. Nova had already packed a few things and set sail, and made it clear to Miss Darby on the photo that he would one day return to marry her, to impregnate her, in his own words. And Miss Darby would laugh at that too. Nova explained everything and his reasoning for leaving. That he would not and could not marry her if his sister was not one of her bridesmaids. He had planned to find his sister and bring her back home as he felt she needed him more than ever. His intuition called, and it was his intuition that was never wrong. He did not want to fail his sister again.

Miss Darby cried even harder and then held the letter close her heart. She was just twenty-three when she met Nova and now was on the brink of hitting her thirties.  Little did her mother or her friends know, that she had not forgotten about Nova and his promise, yet it seemed they had all forgotten. Again, they did not know the truth to the story.

No matter what anyone said Miss Darby would not hate it. No matter how many debated.

She waited.

 

 

Tea and Coffee

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April 22nd, 2018, by Patrick Starks

TEA AND COFFEE

Dear friend,

I feel you would agree that there’s nothing like a hot cup of coffee to get you up in the morning. A teaspoon or two of half and half along with a dash of sugar, all to compliment the coffee you now brew, making you feel sharp as a cougar. And just when it hits the back of your throat, it flows warmth up and down your spine like a winter coat. It is just the feeling you need to get moving again, the feeling you needed, the feeling you wanted.

It wake’s you up, it starts your day but later leaves you in dismay. You feel tired again, and ponder on another cup, but to the cabinet on your right you see a green box. Only until now have you had the chance to see it again or remember that you even had such.

It is tea, that of which you have been avoiding for at least a year now. You gaze back at the coffee that once made you happy but hesitate to fall for its tricks, for that it has now made you feel crappy, possibly sick.

Your head spins with the decision of which to choose, as both an angel and a demon hovers your shoulders like a wound. One making you feel warmth and the other colder. You then smolder on the thoughts on which one is best.

Water begins to boil with a small bag within it. It is clear as day you have made your decision. And instantly it is that decision that puts you in the mode of apprehension.

One sip and you have now burned your tongue. The demon on your shoulder laughs.

“You should have drank the coffee,” said she sarcastically, with a sarcastic grin.

The angel now meditates with you in sympathy as she knows that you are in agony. She then pulls from the feathers of her wing a random object and, throws it up and over your head. And now it is the demon who aches. The sounds of a chipmunk chuckles in your right ear, as from your left only flows anger and tears.

And through it all the coffee has become loop warm, basically cold if any. You think to re-warm, but from the way it is, you ponder to just throw two ice cubes in it and call it an iced coffee instead—call it a day. However, the day is too cold for that, this I know you would say.

You decide to drink it as is, and it satisfies the burns in your throat. Unfortunately, it as well leaves a burning taste in your mouth. It is easy to say that loop warm coffee and mint green tea do not go well together. The taste you try to tether somehow brings to you the exotic taste of leather.

Out of frustration, the coffee then goes down the garbage disposal and the demon on your shoulder fades. But just before it says it’s goodbye, clogs your garbage disposal as you knew not of the coffee grounds that rested at the bottom.

You take a few sips of the tea. And the thought of doing the same comes to mind.

“You shouldn’t,” said the angel with radiant wings. “Here, let me help.”

The angel rushes over to grab some honey, but mistaken’s pancake syrup for it. One last sip and you spit the tea out onto the floor. The angel tries to clean it up, but you refuse, no more.

You pour the tea down the drain. Now the angel becomes a mist, not ever knowing her beautiful name or the risk. Tisk, tisk.

“Why!” yelled the angel as it faded away. “Why! You shouldn’t have…”

Out of all that has happened, you feel exhausted. Your mouth is dry from the burns of taste and now seek a peaceful place.

The only thing left now is water in which you should of chose, it was the greatest fuel for your body, that you should’ve known.

And now as the water flows down your chest, you have no reason to attest, in your heart you know it’s whats best.  You will make your vow to not drink tea or coffee anymore, but in your heart the two you still adore.

It is wise for you to evaluate your addictions. It is wise for you to notice, as for my reason I wrote this, was in fact for you to note this.

Sincerely,

Note’

 

Half and Half

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April 12, 2018, by Patrick Starks 

HALF AND HALF

I am you and you are me. Together we breakdown walls, and for that we have vision, we can see. Ignore me if you want, but it will one day bring you regret.

Don’t believe me, shall we make a bet? CALL MY NAME, TRUST ME, WE’VE ALREADY MET.

Who am I? Who are you? If you seek answers than you should pursue. But it would be wise for you to have an opened mind, as everything that seems tangled in your life will unwind. 

Hear me calling out to you, and trust always in my point of views. I am half and you are half, it is not rocket science, this isn’t math. And as the path for you and I is awoken, don’t be afraid just soak in, all that is gracious when we are together. Combined we are stronger than leather.

So walk with me and don’t forget what you are and what we stand for, I promise in time, it is our patience that will bring you more.

Sincerely,

I Adore

 

Salsa Contest: Part II

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April 6, 2018, by Patrick Starks.

SALSA CONTEST PART II

SCENE 1

News Anchor #2: Are you seriously going to dance with that thing?

Salsa: Excuse me, but I am not a thing. I am salsa, I can dance, I can sing.

Salsa Dancer: Ha! Say’s the jar of expired goods.

News Anchor #1: Ha! Says the dancer who is no longer Hollywood.

Ms. Lopez: Enough! Let us begin! Romeo put the rose in my mouth.

Mr.Lopez: My love can’t we just do without.

Salsa Dancer: Come along my dear. Everyone steer clear. Everyone have no fear, for that my love for this woman is not like this man over here; my love is sincere.

Salsa: Oh my… Nope, not gonna say it, not gonna say it. But are you…

(News Anchor #1 begins to cry)

News Anchor #1: Oh my heavenly…

Salsa: Great! I knew someone would say it. Everyone happy now. And pull yourself together man, your embarrassing me. Have some balls.

News Anchor #1: But I loved her.

Salsa: Then let us take this love you have and show-er.

News Anchor #1: But I’ve already had a shower. Plus, I don’t think I’d feel comfortable taking it with a…

Salsa: Ugh! No, pendejo! Let’s just get this over with.

SCENE 2

Ms. Lopez: Wait… who will be the judges now if the news anchors are going to be dancing?

Unknown: I will!

Mr. Lopez: Oh my heavenly!

News Anchor #2: What the heck is that?

Salsa Dancer: I do not know my tortilla, but the sight of it makes me ill-a.

Cameraman: Um… Should I keep filming this, or blur out whatever that is.

News Anchor #1: Oh my…

(News Anchor #1 passes out)

Salsa: Ha! Well at least this time, he didn’t finish that…

News Anchor #1: Heavenly…

Salsa: Wow… Just wow.

Unknown/Queso: Hello again Salsa.

Salsa: M-my love, how are you. I haven’t seen in a long time.

Queso: I’m fine Salsa, but I am not stupid, I’m not blind.

Salsa: I-I was young.

Queso: As was I.

Salsa: I got stung?

Queso: By what? Obviously, that was a lie.

Ms. Lopez: Okay… Romeo lets go home I’ve changed my mind.

Mr. Lopez: Oh my heavenly…

News Anchor #2: Ugh! It smells.

News Anchor #1: Yes, but by the smell of your beauty Isabella, I could hardly tell-a.

(News Anchor #1 blushes)

Salsa Dancer: Come on my nacho dip, ignore the crap that comes from this mans lips. Let us dance the night away.

Queso: Thank you, but I will be judging not dancing.

Salsa Dancer: I wasn’t… Ugh… disgusting.

Salsa: But my love… If only I could…

Queso: Dj hit the music! Everyone take your places!

TO BE CONTINUED 

Salsa Contest

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March 30, 2018, by Patrick Starks

SALSA CONTEST

Intro

News Anchor #1: Hello everyone, my name is Sebastian Cole, and you are watching Komo 5 news.

News Anchor #2: Hello, hello. And my name is Isabella Valenzuela. Say, do you love my new shoes?

News Anchor #1: Um… Um… Isabella… That’s not part of the script…

News Anchor #2: Oh hush Sebastian, live a little, get a grip.

News Anchor #1: Um… Okay… Well let’s get started, shall we! Tell me people at home watching. Do you love salsa? Well, then you’ve come to the right place.

News Anchor #2: Yes! Come on down and show us that you have what it takes.

News Anchor #1: The contest will be held at Westlake Center. And…

News Anchor #2: And don’t forget to enter.

News Anchor #1: Um…

News Anchor #2: The contest will begin tomorrow at 2pm Pacific time. And…

News Anchor #1: And don’t be late to show off your shine.

News Anchor #2: Um…

News Anchor #1 & 2: See you all there!

SCENE 1: Home A

Ms. Lopez: Oh my heavenly! Romeo look! Their talking about a big salsa contest.

Mr. Lopez: My love ignore that contest, you are blessed, come back to bed and get some rest.

Ms. Lopez: I’m going to give people a taste better than their own mothers cooking! Oh, my heavenly! Romeo, w-what should I wear?

Mr.Lopez: Whatever you want my dear, I don’t care.

Ms. Lopez: Even if I went out bare?

Mr.Lopez: Yeah sure, whoa! Wait, what…

SCENE 2: Home B

Brother: There’s a freaking salsa contest! Sis, I’m telling you, I’m going to be the best. Everyone knows that with my salsa there is no need for a test.

Sister: I don’t know bro, last time I had some of your salsa I could barely feel my chest, and even thew up making a complete fool of myself, a mess.

Brother: That’s because you ate all that queso beforehand.

Sister: No, big brother. I’m for sure it was your salsa, it was bland.

Brother: Out of my way. I’m headed to the kitchen to get started; I have no time for this.

Sister: Psh!

SCENE 3: Home C

Salsa: You see, I told you I was popular. Everyone wants a piece of the salsa. And the ladies love me.

Salsa Dancer: What the heck are you talking about now Salsa. The ladies don’t love you, I’m the dancer. And the ladies love when I sha…

Salsa: Stop right there! Don’t say another word, we’re going to settle this once and for all, and see who has the biggest cojones, who’s got balls.

Salsa Dancer: Ha! Your just a jar of Salsa, you don’t have balls; your no bigger than then my little girl’s doll.

Salsa: So, are you rejecting my challenge?

Salsa Dancer: No, not at all. You’re on.

SCENE 4: Competition Scene

News Anchor #1: Okay… So this isn’t what we exactly expected.

News Anchor #2: You all do know that this is a Salsa contest, meaning to dance right.

Ms.Lopez: Oh my heavenly! Then why didn’t you just say that then, I can do that too? I was the lead salsa dancer of my high school dance crew.

Mr.Lopez: Oh here we go…

Ms.Lopez: Shut it, Romeo! Get your stuff ready!

Mr. Lopez: No way. Honeybun, you cant be serious. Do you really expect me to put on…

Ms.Lopez: Yes!

Brother: Looks like I’m going to need a partner then.

Sister: Ugh…. No way! You’re my brother. You really want to grab on your sisters…

Brother: Ugh! Na, na, na, na, don’t want to hear it; enough said. I’ll find someone else.

Sister: Nope! To late. You drug me out here, and now I’m going to make you vomit up the very salsa you made. Then maybe you’ll know what it feels to be me. Come, come.

Salsa: Wow that’s going to be a really awkward dance. But his sister is kind of cute.

Salsa Dancer: Step aside you expired sauce.

Salsa: Expired! What did…

Salsa Dancer: My love, my dear, please have no fear for that it is you and I who are destined to take this dance floor. Will you do a poor soul like I the honor, senorita?

News Anchor #2: Oh my… Your such a gentleman, and handsome one.

News Anchor #1: Um… You can’t be in the competition Isabella, we are the judges?

News Anchor #2: Can it Sebastian! You had your chance; no need for you to hold grudges.

News Anchor #1: Fine then. For my partner, I choose the Salsa!

Ms.Lopez: Oh my heavenly!

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two Ghouls and a Crow

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March 22, 2018 by Patrick StarksGHOUL TO CROW

Ghoul #1: Ugh… I’m so sick and tired of this graveyard, why don’t we choose another.

Ghoul #2: Oh, if only we could my brother.

Ghoul #1: You know why we starve right; all these filthy humans and their healthy eating; all of their teasing.

Ghoul #2: Well… What for you my brother would be pleasing?

Ghoul #1: Well if you ask my brother, I just want people to stuff their faces again with McDonald’s and Taco Bell,; to again be fat and greedy; all in such ways that would not please me, but feed me.

Ghoul #2: I am no genie, brother, this I cannot do, for that, all remains now are dusted, crusted, and busted up shoes.

Crow: Oh caw, caw, caw, just go on already! Find somewhere else to plunder, you two have done enough talking, you have ruined my slumber.

Ghoul #1: Oh… is that a crow that speaks, is it a bird for my hunger that lurks beyond my teeth.

Ghoul #2: Ooo, we should fry this one!

Ghoul #1: But the bird can already fly brother.

Ghoul #2: No, no, no, no. Ugh… Never mind. All I know is that he will taste much better than that dirty pig we ate, that swine.

Crow: Shut up already! You two can be such pre-Maddona’s, more so, like two kids, or walking piranhas.

Ghoul #1: You should watch it bird, or sooner or later we will have words, and I’ll clamp down on our neck so tightly, you wouldn’t dare speak, or blurb.

Ghoul #2: Yeah! Watch it bird, crow, whatever you are, the night will not save you, no matter if you wished upon a star.

Crow: Oooo, that sounds bizarre

Ghoul 1 & 2: Sigh.

Crow: Wow, you two are such fools.

Ghoul 1 & 2: Thank you!

Crow: No! I mean you two are fools, you ghouls!

Ghoul #1: Get over here!

Crow: Oh, to slow my dear.

Ghoul #2: Ahhhhhh!!!!

Crow: Was that some sort of power-up or cheer.

Ghoul #1 & #2: Bastard!

Crow: You know my brother Russel and you two could all learn from one another.

Ghoul #2: My god! You mean to tell me that your brother is T.H.E. Russel Crowe. That buff guy from that movie “The Terminator.”

Ghoul #1: No, no, no, no, no. My brother, you must mean that movie, “The Negotiator.”

Crow: You idiots, it wasn’t any of those films! Christ! The movie was called Gladiator, and he’s not… Oh screw it, I’m out of here, I’m headed back to my wife.

Ghoul 2: Hmm… My brother. It is a shame that he doesn’t know that we had her for dinner last night.

Ghoul 1: Oh come on, my brother, lets for once in our lives not be ghouls, let’s be polite.

SUMMER

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March 13, 2018 by Patrick Starks

SUMMER

“Nature, nature, look at all this nature; I’m about to savor it, like these NOW and LATERS. Trees, grass, the lake is all that I can see; including the sea, all in which brings me love and vivid memory. Summer is on it’s way, and I cannot wait to fish again, all in hopes that I find my catch, this I wish to the end. And downing this cherry Slurpee has never tasted so brisk, but tisk, tisk, tisk; my brain becomes frozen to the taste of your lips.  They say dreams come true, and it is you that have shown me that, that this life can be more than a dream, and it is this saying I will tat. You are my summer, Summer; the one and only, the one to keep me grounded, my gravity, I; no longer lonely.”

The Prince and the Fly

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March 7, 2018 by Patrick Starks

PRINCE AND THE FLY

Fly: Oh my god, my life is over, some one call the doctor, red rover, red rover!

Prince: My oh my, why must you cry? Red rover, red rover, just let this day be over.

Fly: You know, I used to be in a better body, but look at me now; did I deserve this? have I been that naughty? No one even bows.

Prince: Bow… I’m sorry but this I cannot allow, I am a prince after all, and to you this I have never vowed.

Fly: Say all you want Prince, but I know the truth; how you became what you are, how you maintained your youth.

Prince: Sigh.

Fly: So, your just going to ignore me now, is that it? If I was woman, surely you would not ignore me, not once, not one little bit.

Prince: Sigh.

Fly: Ugh… you can be such a boar! If I was in my current form, you do know that this would mean war.

Prince: Fly who do you think you are threatening me, you do not scare thee, but maybe just a little my dear, if you were a bumblebee.

Fly: Yeah, and if I was such, I’d sting you in your eye, so that you never see again, this I wish to imply.

Assistant: My Prince, if I may ask… But why do you quarrel with this atrocity? It’s plain to see, that in her tiny little body there’s lack of generosity.

Prince: Ha, my friend, could you have said that more comically.

Fly: I can; you are tweedle dumb, and he is tweedle dee. Heavens! I think you two just might need a lobotomy.

Assistant: I beg your pardon! But I have you know, I graduated from one the most prominent school in the city—La De Vardon.

Prince: Relax my friend. Lets hear her out, she must have had a current form, this I have no reason to doubt.

Assistant: Yes, doubt. That is what you should have my prince, madam is bad news; and for that I recommend another for you to choose.

Prince: My god man, have some class, don’t be so evil; a lady is still in our presents, don’t be such a silly goose.

Fly: Sigh.

Prince: So… go on, tell us what happened? And don’t you cry, I don’t have a napkin.

Fly: It was another woman, but obviously something else. One with powers, one that was skilled in stealth.

Prince: So your telling me that this woman was some sort of secret agent?

Assistant: No sir, I believe the madam is talking about something more ancient.

Fly: The woman told me I could be myself again if I had a kiss from a prince, and that everything in my life would soon make since.

Prince: I’m sorry but I am not kissing a fly, besides I might swallow you, I could die.

Fly: You could die? You mean I could die!

Assistant: It doesn’t matter! For neither of you this would be wise. Sir, if I may again… But this all sounds mighty familiar.

Prince: Yes, indeed, it does sound rather peculiar.

Fly: Screw this I’m going in. On my count; one, two, ten!

Prince: Wait!

Assistant: Sigh. Here we go again…

Fly: Am I woman again, do I look as beautiful as ever.

Assistant: I’m sorry madam, but you might want to start writing out a few letters.

Prince: Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

Fly: Oh, wow… your… well, this is a good look for you ya know.

Prince: Alfred bring my mirror, and don’t you dare tell me no!

Assistant: But Sir… If I…

Prince: Just bring me the silly mirror!

Fly: Sigh

Assistant: Sigh

Prince: No… No! A frog again…

Fly: Well, you don’t look all that bad, on a scale from one to ten.

Prince: I should definitely swallow you now. On my count, one, two, ten!

Fly: Hey watch it Frog! I am not your tasty treat.

Assistant: Sir… please sit down; here you are, a lily pad for a seat.

Fly: I’m sorry, but what do you mean that you were a frog again.

Assistant: Just that madam, he was a frog before. It appears that you have met the same fate as he; but thank god, thank the heavens, it isn’t me.

Fly: So, how are we going to get back to what we were? How did you solve it the first time.

Prince: We… No, no, no. We are doing nothing. Just go find yourself a piece of fruit, or something.

Woman: Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Assistant: What was that?

Prince: I know what, and it was no bat, nor cat.

Fly: I-is it a rat?

Prince: No, Maid Marian.

Maid Marian: Oh, is that all you have to say, is that all you can do; why the long face my love, why so blue?

Fly: You… Why? Why did you do this to me? You promised me if I kissed a prince, that my life would be free.

Maid Marian: Is it not, your free as a bird, you have your prince now…

Assistant: Oh, don’t be absurd!

Maid Marian: Shut it scholar, or I’ll turn you into a turd!

Assistant: No, no, no. No need, mouth shut, understood, heard.

Prince: Marian if I may please have a word.

Maid Marian: Speak prince, but make it quick, for that my patience with has run pretty thick.

Prince: Out of all that I have done, why torture me still? Have you not had enough? I’m sorry for what happened, okay, I know with out him life must be rough.

Fly: What are you talking about prince? What did you do?

Maid Marian: Many things my dear, many reasons I had to pursue.

Assistant: My god! Its been years, Robin is with us no more. So just drop it already, we all promised this, we swore!

Maid Marian: I swore nothing, my love is gone, as will be the same for you all.

Fly: I’m sorry; not to stall, but what does this have to do with me? Why must I fall?

Maid Marian: Because… You are the one princess the prince has always loved, the only one he ever wished to see in the stars above.

Prince: I-It cant be… Princess Daphne…

TO BE CONTINUED

Pringles

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February 23, 2018 by Patrick Starks 

PRINGLES.jpg

Man: Hi, How are you? My name is Ade and I love Pringles; in a bundle, or even single.

Woman: Exactly, single. Get a life or something, go out and mingle.

Man: What if I shared a Pringle, or two? Would my point then get across to you?

Woman: Never! Not if you love pringles, not if you shared a Pringle, or two. Pringle shmingle, heavens! Just go out and mingle you fool.

Man: Would you eat them with a ham and cheese? I think they make them at Applebee’s.

Woman: Never, not ever. Not if you love pringles, not if you shared a Pringle or two, not even if I had a ham in cheese, that was made from Applebee’s. But please, just put down the pringles, your single, just go out and mingle tool!

Man: Would eat them on a pizza, my Mona Lisa? You must love Pringles… do have amnesia?

Woman: Never, not ever, you think your clever, but I am no fool, nor tool, I know better.

Man: So does that mean you will join me on this crunchy adventure?

Woman: Never, not ever, no matter how clever. Not with a pizza, I’m not your Mona Lisa, and I surely do not have amnesia.

Man: Then would eat them with a beer my dear? And I know it’s weird, but do you think I should grow out my beard?

Woman: No, no, no, not ever! Not if you love Pringles, not if you shared a Pringle or two, not even if I had a ham and cheese, that was made from Applebee’s; not if I had a Pizza, I’m not your Mona Lisa, and I surely do not have amnesia; not with beer, I am not your dear, but it wouldn’t be bad if you grew out your beard. Ugh… Just put down the Pringles, your single you fool! Did your mother drop on your head a tool?

Man: So if I grow out my beard, you will have a Pringle?

Woman: My god, your such a creep, you make my skin tingle.

Man: Okay last one.

Woman: No, no, no, we are done.

Man: Would you eat them at Disneyland, where you could meet Mickey? And whats that on your neck? Is that a hicky?

Woman: I beg your pardon, but that’s none of your business, and besides, I’m single.

Man: Then why talk to me? You don’t need a Pringle, your single, Mickey hickey! Just go out and mingle, you… you ghoul.

Woman: That’s it! Give me those Pringles! Mhmmm! Are you happy now! Were on a crunchy adventure!

Man: I knew you loved Pringles, look at you, your eyes even twinkle. Should we go to the park and finish them, and watch the dogs bark, as we eat M&M’s?

Woman: Wait… Are you asking me on a date?

Old Woman: Clearly child, is there any reason to debate?

Man: The ol… I mean, the young lady is right.

Old Woman: Mhmm…

Man: How could I not ask, your such a beautiful sight.

Woman: B-but I ate all the Pringles?

Man: Pringle shmingle, my Mona Lisa, you and I; are single. But before we go, really, whats that on your neck?

Woman: It was years ago, from a car wreck.

Man and old Woman: My god, what happened?

Woman: Got hit by a Pringle truck, and the seat belt around my neck was fastened.

Teachers Pet

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February 21, 2018 by Patrick Starks 

TEACHERS PET

Teacher: Alright children gather around, or I’ll make you all write fifty pages of your vowels.

Child #1: But Mrs. Skywalker, I just washed my hands, I looked everywhere, but there aren’t any towels.

Teacher: Then wipe them on your pants, Lance. Today I want to introduce you all to Pepi, a weasel who can dance.

Child #2: But he’s just a weasel.

Child #3: My mom said that they can give you the measles.

Teacher: Yeah, and I wish I had a beagle. What else is new.

Child #1: He looks weird. Why is his nose so pink?

Child #2: He looks smelly… he stinks.

Child #3: Why does he stare at me like that, he doesn’t even blink.

Teacher: Yeah, and sometimes Asha you do not think.

Child #2 Can it do a cartwheel, like this?

Child #1: Can it do like a snake and hiss?

Child #3: Can it do like me and P***

Teacher: Zip your pants back up Asha!

Child #1: Oh look! He’s doing it now!

Child #2: But how?

Teacher: Well, its all because I taught him myself children.

Child #1, #2, #3: You can dance Mrs. Skywalker?

Teacher: Of course I can, they don’t call me sky walker for no reason.

Child #3: Could you show us, please and…

Teacher: And what?

Child #3: With sugar on top…

Child 2: Hey don’t give away all our P**?

Teacher: Excuse me. Did I just hear you say…

Child #2: Pop! Soda Pop!

Teacher: Hmmm…

Child #3: Nice going Mandy.

Teacher: Open your hands child… Oh, thank god it’s candy, and you over there, stop eating that glue.

Child #1: Why should I, don’t feel bl..

Teacher: See what I mean.

Child #2: Eww… he’s turning green.

Nurse: I’ll take this one off your hands Mrs. Skywalker, seems the performance was not to keen.

Teacher: Kind of, but not really.

Nurse: Oh, don’t be silly. Look, Pepi’s done it as always.

Teacher: Oh my goodness… just like yesterday. All of them, sound a sleep.

Nurse: Let me get this one out of hear, we’ll be light on our feet.

Teacher: Pepi, my pepi what would I do with out you. Your mommy’s little teachers pet, my dream come true.

The Silly Family

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February 9, 2018 by Patrick Starks SILLY FAMILY

Man: My name is Ron, I do not have a son, nor do I have one to play with in the sun.

Boy: But Ron, Mr. Walls may I call you. Why do you want those things, you have me, I am not your son, but can be.

Man: Silly child, you cannot be my son, if you cannot bring me a wife; one to bring me kisses, and tuck you in at night.

Boy: You mean like a mother, one that would become the referee of me and my brother.

Man: No brother, not yet, you assume too much; besides, there’s not a woman in this place that I would touch.

Woman: Silly man, Silly child, none of you have even noticed me standing here in this aisle. Why should I bring you kisses, why should I tuck you in at night, when all you two do is bicker and fight.

Man: Bicker and fight?

Child: Fight and bicker?

Man and Child: Fibicker?

Woman: Must I repeat myself, can your heads get any bigger.

Man: Now this is a woman that I can love, in harmony, like two turtle doves.

Woman: Don’t even bother you’re not my type, your rotten to the core, no longer ripe.

Cashier: Silly man, Silly child, Silly woman, can’t we all just get along, can’t we be human.

Man and Woman: But the boy is a dog.

Cashier: Does it matter, he’s no cat; so, he won’t scratch or claw.

Man: Just ring me up you silly cashier, before I make that smirk on your face disappear.

Woman: Um… Is anyone besides me in shock that the dog can talk.

Cashier: Not really. But on your way out you should probably give it a walk.

Child/Dog: I do not take walks, and am certainly not an it, but if you don’t mind, could you ring me up for some kibbles and bits.

Man: Silly child, or dog, whatever you may be, how can you pay for your kibbles and bits; you don’t work, all you do is play, fetch, or sit.

Woman: Silly dog. I’ll buy your kibbles and bits. After all, I have no reason to kibble and fit.”

Man: Kibble and fit?

Cashier: Fit and kibble?

Man and Cashier: Kibit

Dog: Must you two be animals, and stare at my mother’s tits.

Woman: Thank you son. let us be going, it seems these to need much growing.

Man: But wait let me pay for your food, I feel awful I was rude.

Woman: Okay, but don’t think that you’re getting off that easy, I am woman of class, it will take much to please me.

Man: Understood. Shall we all get going.

Woman: Yes, lets. The weather man said later it be snowing.

Dog: Are we going home? I’ve never had a home.

Man and Woman: You do now son, you will never again be alone.

Dog: Are we a family now? Mr. Walls, Dad, why did you want this so much.

Man: Because like you I was lonely but will never again see such.

Woman: Ugh… Silly Family.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

P.U.M.A Girls

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February 1, 2018 by Patrick Starks

PUMA GIRLS

In Kygo, it is said that the skies are red, and the air is mist, and that all that stand before it become intertwined, in a twist. The people of the city became bound to fear, as they trembled to what lied in the mist, what would appear. Yet, in the midst of it all, there would be a child to challenge those very fears that stalled.

The child was like no other. This child was bold, strong, and cunning; in their florescent eyes one could see that, it was stunning. Abandon at birth the child would then be destined an orphan, that in which would give them more than just strength, but strength in the toughest organ. As tough as the child became, they were still a child after all. They cried nights on end, until they learned more about themselves, and how to fend.

Overtime, the child would buy into the talk of the town, into their sad looks and their frowns. That he or she’s parents did not abandon them by choice; that somewhere in the mist many could still hear their voice. He or she then entered into an unknown world, never to return again, in the hopes that they would rejoin with their family—a new life to begin. Years would go by, and the people of the town would tell their children’s children of the orphan child who they would name after the city, but oh, was it a pity to see them go; Kygo, the child who became a hero to their home.

“S-so does that mean they’re dead?” said a young girl.

“No, no my angel, they’re still alive, somewhere out there.” An old woman replied.

“Why doesn’t anyone go after them? They probably need our help grandma. I thought we were supposed to protect people,” pleaded the young girl.

“I’m sorry, but not a chance little one. Surely you missed everything I just said. Besides, your mother would probably kill me if I ever let you go anywhere near that kind of evil. Even if I let you out in the rain with a jacket on, she would probably still kill me; although, I’m sure it would cause you no harm, we are angels after all. Now, night, night, may your halo shine bright.”

 “Oh alright… Night grandma.”

The old woman gave the little girl a kiss on her left and then right cheek, as she tucked her into a cotton candy cloud. The girl closed her eyes, but as the old woman flew off, one eye remained opened. Little did the old woman know, the little girl would make her way out into the mist regardless of what she was told. However, she wasn’t stupid, she knew it be silly to go out there alone; so, she rallied up a team, one that she knew could get her back to her home.

First, was of course her best friend, Uma. Uma Thurman, she liked to be called, or Kill Bill, which wasn’t really a name at all. It was obvious that Uma was a fan of the famous movie “Kill Bill”, however, it was surprising for her age she was even allowed to watch such; in Kygo such things were forbidden, a sin, but as any child, the children always found a way around to getting access to it. She wasn’t really what any would call the brains of the operation, but she did have two years practice in Jeet Kune Do, and a strong attention for detail, which meant she could just about get out of any sticky situation, and for that she was made co-captain of the team, the protector.  

Second, was Maddie, short for Madalyn. Maddie was only one letter short from her actual name, so it really wasn’t much of a difference to begin with, but it was what she preferred from the rest. Maddie was definitely something one would call the brains of the operations. Although, her appearance was different from the stereotypical smart girl; she was no Velma from ‘Scooby-Doo’, or any Laney from ‘She’s All That’, she was just Maddie. She didn’t wear glasses, she didn’t wear quote on quote—nerd clothes, guy clothes, barely any clothes for that matter.  Maddie was truly something out of an Abercrombie commercial, and it was easy to say that her influence was from the planet earth as well, although, it seems she’d really take it to the extreme, more than others.  But on the plus side, Maddie could just about build anything from scratch, and with her dad being the cities handyman, it wasn’t a surprise at all that she would be taught the ways of wizardry—a dream come true, to satisfy her father’s misery.

The crew was almost complete. There was just one thing missing, the final piece, the last crew member; Arma, who they all called armadillo. Unlike Maddie’s nickname, which isn’t often mentioned without a black eye.  Arma was okay with hers, she was a southern gal after all, or at least she wanted to be. Arma was a strong believer in the southern hospitality. She would even paint her wings red, white, and blue, while here halo remained true—a dedication to the big red state.  Arma’s skill wasn’t what many would call special, at least not for where they were headed, yet, some would disagree that being a fine chef was a useless talent. Arma could just about create gourmet dinners out of nothing, southern dishes to be specific. None knew how to cook at all, and all figured they would starve without her, and so Arma was brought on as the final piece to the puzzle.

The tank, the technician, and the medic. The perfect combo for any fierce excursion.

“B-but what of the leader, the girl that wanted to go in the first place. What was her name?”

“No one really knows. All that anyone knows is that her name started with a “P”. The P.U.M.A girls was what they called themselves, the only angels to actually wear shoes, specifically Pumas, as many above remained barefoot. But if I had to bet, the leaders name was probably Patricia, or something like that,” Said the man.

Bright eyes of a little girl then blossomed. “But my names Patricia.”

“That you are. Are you the leader? It’s okay, you can tell me, I won’t tell your mother, I pinky swear it.”

“Stop joking around dad.”

“Well it’s the truth ain’t it.”

The little girl blushed as the man kissed her on her right and then left cheek.  He tucked her into to covers that wrapped around her like clouds. A click and clack, and the man cut the night light on as he turned his back.

“You can turn the light off dad, I don’t need it anymore.”

The night went off. A heartfelt smile pierced through the dark, the man’s little girl was growing up, too fast he prayed, but he was happy for her; even envisioning her being a big star on a red carpet one day made him teary eyed.

The little girl then dreamed of the mist, one she would wake up to, one she would not be  ready to persist.

“Patricia wake up! We gotta go!”

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

VJ the Rottweiler

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January 5, 2018 by Patrick Starks

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There’s nothing like the smell of fresh cut grass, the warm touching of the sun, and the drool of a life-size Rottweiler to get you up in the morning. Yup, me and V.J the Rottweiler were an item, partners in crime even, best friends, we did everything together. And at the time that we met, I was just a toddler, and as was he. It was easy to say that we were both pups during those years, new to the world and eager to learn about all its mysteries; although, as the months passed on, V.J would double in size, now becoming somewhat of a big brother to me, second big brother to be exact, couldn’t forget about Giovani.

Where I was from, most parents would have cringe at today if they ever had their little ones near, but not my parents, not Tarzan and Jane. Mom and Dad were something else. They were everything a child could ever want in a parent—sympathetic, strict, positive, strong, wise and loving.  And even though my family and I were what some would call country, we truly enjoyed those moments while we had them.

Our home was built by the hands of my dad, on an opened field, with only tall grass to surrounded it, along with the creatures that hid in them. As dangerous it was to roam the field, there beside me stood my bodyguard as always; a Rottweiler whom most would run from today if they ever saw such.

Rattlesnakes, scorpions, black widows, even cougars were what V.J and I were up against. Sure, we felt we could defeat all that were on the list, however, the cougar would have been frightening, and a deathmatch if encountered. My brother Giovani told me the story about dads wrestle with the giant feline, how he took him down, but as I’ve gotten older I really doubt that such ever happened. Dad does have that big scar on his shoulder though. And every time I ask him about it, he just dances around the question to Stevie Wonder.

Like dad, me and V.J were not afraid. After all, we had our cat Sylvester for the snakes, as cats are known to have in their spreadsheet of professions. On most days, mainly weekends, Dad, VJ, and I would make our way to the barn. There in the barn we had a horse, who we named Copy. Still to this day I have no idea the meaning behind why dad gave her that name, but yup, that was her name, Copy. Dad fed her the typical apples and carrots, and she would waste no time to work her way down to the bottom of the bucket. I usually would feed her hay, but mom made me stop after Copy had accidently mistaken one of my fingers for a piece of that hay. But don’t worry my fingers are still intact. V.J as well had learned a valuable lesson from the black beauty, the bump on his head still left him memory of it. Dad would try to warn V.J, more than he could count. Vj’s courageous soul would get the best of him, and in the end, Copy would show V.J just how much courage he had in his furry body.

The bell would ring. That was a sign from mom that supper was ready. And man was the supper good, just thinking about it makes my stomach growl. Flame broiled hamburger patties, complimented by homemade fries. Giovani was already in the kitchen with his face stuffed as much he could stuff him. In my family food was an Olympic sport, if you did not get to the table in time, you would lose, and be left with an empty stomach to show for it. Me and V.J without hesitation headed in right after Dad.

—Sorry son, but you know the rules. No dogs or pets in general, at the table.

—Come on dad.

—You know the rules. Plus you know it ain’t sanitary to have that dog around all this good food. All those flees and mess.

—Yes sir.

I took V.J to the garage where we kept most of his things. He had the patio to stay too, but last time I left him there he was surrounded by thousands of scorpions. I couldn’t leave my buddy out all alone. So, the garage was always our second alternative. I took a handful of fries with me and a patty on our way to the garage. I wasn’t going to let my friend starve. He did have Mud Bay, but come on, if you were a dog, is that honestly something you would be okay eating ever day, no variety, no nothing, just pellets in a bowl along with a bowl of water—I don’t think so. Once I gotten VJ settled I headed back inside, but just before doing so gave him a big hug, for assurance that I would be back. He gave me a hug back, wrapping his gigantic caramel-colored paws around me. I was still little, but VJ was a gentle giant, an intelligent one to be frank. There aren’t too many dogs out there that know how to jump up and hit the garage door button to let themselves out, but somehow our VJ did, and because of that I knew he could take care of himself.

Me and the fam would say our prayer and then eat, regardless of what greedy ass had eaten already, we still prayed and still ate. And after kicking my brothers ass in Mario Kart 64 afterwards, it was time for me to hit the hay, as most children at that time were told.

—Time to go to bed baby. Go brush your teeth, you to Giovani. We got a long day tomorrow and I want to get ahead of all the chaos. People are like ants nowadays. Everywhere. You know, there use to be a time I could drive down the road and have it to myself. But I don’t miss those days. Getting pulled over, your daddy being harassed by cops was enough. I’ll admit, we live in a good era, don’t you two forget that. Now get going.

What mom said, mom got, and we didn’t dare challenge it. Not even dad, and he was freakin’ Tarzan.

The next morning was descent, not to cold, not, to hot, but just right. For once we were given a break from the southern hospitality of the sun.

—Mom do I have to go. Why can’t I go out with my friends. I’m in high school!

—Don’t raise your voice at me Giovani. You are not going, and that’s that. I need you to help me with your little brother this evening.

—But momma…

Mom gave Giovani the look. And when she gave that look, it be wise to not even think of a challenging plea or it be your last. Giovani became silent. Overtime we would finished getting dressed, and were on our way out for a trick or treat time. Before mom could even get to the garage, the door was already opened, VJ had let himself out into another day of adventure.

—That dam dog.

Mom had figured it out. Not like it was hard though, the claw marks near the button clearly identified who the culprit was, and his name was VJ. As we drove down a sandy road, I called out his name, hoping he would chase after the car to say goodbye to me, as he always done. There was no VJ. I called again, still nothing. And then I called for the third time, but this time with more ump, and there he was revealed, subtle, but I knew it was him.

VJ had the saddest look in his eyes, like he didn’t want me to leave. He limped his way out to reveal himself clearly, along with the injuries he had gotten. I’d ask mom to turn back around so that we could take him with us, something was wrong, but vision of him faded before I even got the chance to speak.

—He’s fine baby, we will be back later today, I’m sure he knows that.

That Halloween night was long, it was perfect, I had a full bucket of candy, even a new toy as additional bonus, but little did I know when I came back home things would no  longer be the same. It was dark, cold, something was different about home. It was quiet. Too quiet. I called out VJ’s name, this time more than I had done before. There was still no sign of him, no paw steps, no bark. Just silence.

—Clark! Clark!!

Mom yelled for dad. I rushed over to see what was going on as we jumped out of the car, but then Giovani stopped and held me tightly. Tears rushed down my face, just as fast as I had gotten to the scene. It was VJ,  laying on the ground, in one of his favorite spots, only he wasn’t a sleep. I called his name again, Giovani held me even tighter, then mom joined in.

—I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry. Everything will be alright.

—Mom what’s wrong with VJ…

Mom became speechless. She looked at dad, and dad looked to ground. He was speechless as well.

—Well… baby you see VJ is a sleep right now. And he will be for a long time.

—B-but when is he going to wake?

Mom this time just rocked me back and forward, saying nothing. Dad let me say my last goodbye. It felt like a whole day had gone by standing there, but I knew it only had been a few minutes. Dad picked VJ up and carried him off, I cried harder. I could tell dad wanted to as well, but he always dealt with pain differently then most—dad loved VJ like a son.

—Damn Cougars, sons of bitches!

Dad had already assumed what happened, the swears in the background told me that.

—It hurts, I loved that dog. Little shit. Even through his death he found his way back to us, back home.

At the end of it all, I at least got to see my best friend one last time, and for that, I am blessed to have gotten that chance, as I know many sometimes do not.

Rest In Peace my friend. May we be rejoined once more in the next life.

—Love you always

 

Zoya’s Christmas

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December 12, 2017 by Patrick Starks

CHRISTMAS

They say when you grow old, that you forget the person you were before, the innocents you once had. However, my sister Zoya would remind that such sayings were just taboo for the ones that needed an excuse—an excuse for their hatred of the world, but more so their pain. It was just two days away from Christmas and I was already exhausted by anything that had the meaning of jolly behind it, but Zoya would then tell me of a story—about the little girl ghost next to her side, when she turned forty. Continue reading →

Alone at Once

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December 12, 2017 by Patrick Starks

DRAWING 12.16.17

Wow, what can I say, today has been a pretty good day. I finally got that big promotion from work, finally got the chance to attend my little girl’s ballet recital, for once, and finally got around to cooking and cleaning right before the misses got home. Yup, today was a good day, but then Saturday came.  Continue reading →

F.R.A.G.I.L.E Minds

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December 2, 2017 by Patrick Starks

FRAGILE MINDS

High School was hell for me, more so life as I viewed it. My mind was fragile, just as most people’s minds are, it was human I would trick myself into believing. In my life, sadness would always swarm around my head like fruit flies, blocking all confidence that I ever had to exist, and I really, I honestly, just wanted just that—to be free from it all. Me and Linda always felt life to be just a big popularity competition, a competition for the insecure we laughed. I obviously wasn’t on the top chart as you can tell by my tone of confidence, not even the top million, but I knew Linda would be at least somewhere in the rankings—to me Linda was better than any Beyonce, or Katy Perry, she was life. At night when me and Linda gazed at the stars, she and I would always talk about someday leaving the planet and traveling to another, naming our two to three children—Pluto, Venus, or Mercury in which we both believed to be unisex. Linda and I were truly soulmates, together to the end. Out of all the people I had grown to know in my life, all I had grown to love, I never knew that it would be Linda to take her own life. Continue reading →

My Reasons Why

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September 30th, 2017 by Patrick Starks 

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(Episode 2) / Plus Bonus quote!

Ron and I still had the painting of Mona Lisa—the painting would maintain its mint conditioning, but I would fear for how long. And so, I kept it close, pressing it against my sternum, but gently, I didn’t want to ruin the one reason to why Ron and I were here—a world magical to only the books I’d read to my little princess, Dalila. And I didn’t trust Ron, my so-called partner in crime—crime was a thing he was champion at, but a partner I’d always second guess. He’d always reek of dishonor and lies, the very traits a criminal should have; however, Ron still had a heart, he wanted to be back home just as much as I, to try and win back the heart of the woman he’d lost—the painting would be his ticket back in her heart. Continue reading →

Thank You all! / “Rosita”

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September 27th by Patrick Starks

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Hey everyone and happy Wednesday 😊 I’d like to take time to say thank you all for supporting the Pacharcblog, I really appreciate the love shown and the fantastic writers I have met down the road. And as much as I’d love to keep giving you all praise as you all deserve, I must move forward with the other reason for writing this post.

There will no longer be three post a week, as I am putting more focus into the book I have been working on for quite some time now—stay tuned, it is almost finish 😊. On that note, there are a lot of series that I have started on the blog as most of you already know, and feel I owe it to you guys, including myself to finish them. So I decided I would make a calendar of when the continuation of these stories would be released—so that you are aware of what is going on, I don’t want you guys to feel like I’m bailing on you lol.

The first continuation will be to “My Reasons Why,” if you have not read episode 1 yet, go check it out, promise you wont be disappointed, I hope lol—just simply type the title of it into the search engine on the right side of the page and it will bring you to it. The release date episode 2 will be on September 29th, this Saturday @ 2pm.  After that release I will be continuing “Tonka and Barbie,” which will be released October 8th , Sunday @ 7pm. To find out more about the dates and times click on the Upcoming Tab which I have just added to the site.

Here is something short to leave you all with for your time and patience😊

“Rosita”

I can tell by her laugh that she’s the one, but wise man would say that I was too afraid to say anything, worrying that I’d  be no fun. You got no chance, the little boy next to me would say, but he was just a child—what all the girls would call a little bae. But will she understand me, or think I’m too nice—the dagger to a good man’s heart, the cut of a blade, the cut of a knife. But my kindness is my strength, an underrated gift—one today that everyone looks as if a myth. And the way she stares into my eyes is enough to make any man shy away, but I promised even to the heavens, that today would be my day. She walks by and all I can ever notice is her smell, giving reason to why the guy next to me had fell. Sarcastic, but the man was truly unconscious, beauty had struck again, I felt this was my chance—until another would swoop in with a name that rhymed with romance. Lance was a charming one and a cocky on for that, but he’d always strike out, not matter how hard he swung the bat—physically and mentally. And as she talked with me for only a moment, I could tell she felt the same, as love was all that could, and ever remained. But we both still hesitate, no affection to give, waiting any longer and we both have yet to truly live. And as I now look into the future, I can see that there was no worry, Rosita was the one, and so this poem I will burry.

Barista Girl

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September 24th, 2017 by Patrick Starks 

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Double or triple, I’d ponder, maybe even a quad, but I feared that make me a goner. There was at least seven behind me waiting to laugh at my rejection, but I couldn’t wait, I had to espresso my affection. Barista girls cheeks would then turn red as her chocolatey eyes sparkled, I could see my words were smooth enough to leave her somewhat startled. But coffee, my coffee as she stirs you up, can you feel through her delicate hands that I honestly had any luck. The numbers written on your forehead would tell me otherwise, as you now have become my greatest prize. The following day she and I would leave the park with coffee on the ground, love was in the air, for that even our coffee cups had found.

Class of Golem

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September 22, 2017 by Patrick Starks

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“Let there be light,” professor Golem would say. The whole classroom was still, no one said a word, only gazed towards the front of the room . “I said, let there be light,” the professor would repeat. And still no reaction from the class was given—there was no light, one would say behind me. A pile of  research would then clutter the classroom ceiling, and by the looks of it, lord only knew what this person was feeling. Continue reading →

What I was

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September 3, 2017 by Patrick Starks

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I wasn’t always like this. I used to be free, I used to be graceful, yet grateful of this life—especially when I was amongst the others. People today would call it conformity, but it wasn’t it all like that—we were a family. We gathered food together, we traveled together, we played together, and most of the time, laughed together—it was truly an artistic life, one that I never wished the paintbrush to leave. Continue reading →

Saving Love

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September 1, 2017 by Patrick Starks 

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Love never knew that she was sick. Every day as I watched her come back from work, I could tell that a piece of her was missing—that the parasite would not only control her mind, but her body. But it wasn’t her fault—why she lost control—the parasite became stronger as the days went on, feeding off whatever negative emotions came from her fears, or others. Continue reading →

Georgette

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August 30, 2017 by Patrick Starks

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Strawberries, cherries, and a dash of sugar were my ingredients, but there was always something missing—something that would give it a kick. I’d try lemon, but it made it slightly sour, I’d try lime, but it only made it bitter—my tongue never appreciated such taste, but I was chef, and for that, it was my tongues fate—fate to be my sacrificial lamb of experiments, of my special ingredients. Continue reading →

My Heart, My Kryptonite

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August 16, 2017 by Patrick Starks

57203768 - a red heart shaped tree at sunset.

Growing up I’ve always wanted to be a hero, or some sort of superhero, but I always lacked the special abilities to do so. Batman was of course the closest I could relate to. I was never wealthy man—not like him, but always felt he was like everyone else—normal. He never had any super powers, but he had heart, that’s what my brother always thought. But as much as I felt I could relate to Batman, my favorite was Superman. Continue reading →

My head is a Genie bottle

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August 12, 2017 by Patrick Starks 

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When most people think of living in a space, a space where they can have privacy—they think of a private study or some sort of private resort, a vacation. But not me, whenever I thought of such things, I’d think of the genie and his bottle in that movie “Aladdin” or the show from the sixties— “I dream of Jeannie,” that was always moms favorite show. Continue reading →

If I were a Pencil

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August 9, 2017 by Patrick Starks 

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This woman… I don’t know who she was or what was her purpose, but it seemed ever since she bought my family and I, all she ever cared to do was use us—use us until there was nothing left. And before all of this, our lives were simple, we had peace, no one ever bothered us, although there wasn’t many that came by, came to buy. Continue reading →

My Turn

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August 4, 2017 by Patrick Starks 

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The victim was unconscious, their skin was cold as ice and body still as rock. There was no trace of the victim’s attacker, only bite marks of unfamiliarity presented itself. I knew it wasn’t a vampire, for that the bites had more than two punctures aligned with one another. I knew that it was no werewolf, for that the punctures were not large enough—plus, the victims head would no longer be a part of their body if it had been. Before I could even get a grasp of what could have done this, an odd sound appeared from the shadows. I began to get the chills, I was uncertain of what was behind. Continue reading →

Osiris and the planet Black Hole

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July 30, 2017 by Patrick Starks

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The wind was subtle, but aggressive, rainstorms and mudslides were all that was formed within the crests of the planet known as Cachiche. Osiris one of the few men of the planet, didn’t know what to expect on that day, he’d thought his life was in the hands of the gods, but questioned why it had to be so—he was never a believer in religion, but it made since, he was from a planet where the people held the title of god, where the people could be the creators, where people held power. In a world left with so many questions to be answered, he felt there would soon be a time he would no longer feel the touch of his wife or the love of his children.

Continue reading →

War of Ferra

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July 23, 2017 by Patrick Starks

1877453 - crying woman's eye, black and white image, low key, selective focus

The world… It’s quite magical when you think about it, if you stand still, just for a moment, you can see just how lively and peaceful it can be. Ferra use to believe the same, but after she went off to serve in the war, everything changed. She was different, not just personality wise, but with people. She always adored meeting new people and more so roses, but what she experienced changed all of that. Continue reading →

The Tattooist

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July 19, 2017 by Patrick Starks

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Today is my first day. I’m a little nervous, but I’ve waited my whole life for this opportunity. I can’t chicken out now. I’ve been begging Alexa for to give me this chance for years now, and with the kick ass portfolio I’ve developed—I have to say, it opened the door towards my destiny.  Continue reading →

Here I Soar—A Dragon

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July 16, 2017 by Patrick Starks 

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When I was just a little one, my mother taught me three important lessons—lessons that creatures like she and I needed to know. The first lesson was flying. You were nothing to anyone if you couldn’t fly. My first time trying it was scary, although I must admit, it wasn’t willingly either. I still remember it like it was yesterday, the moment when mom let me go. My body just fell when she did so, plummeting straight for the ground which would determine my fate—the fate if I lived to go on and be big and strong, or just end, right then and there. As I continued to fall, I assumed she wouldn’t just let me die, but what she told me afterwards made me think otherwise. Continue reading →

The Heart of Caroline

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July 12, 2017 by Patrick Starks 

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Caroline… She was only sixteen when we became official partners in crime. We were just teenagers then—high schoolers, with no clue to what the world had to offer us. Caroline was of course drooled over by all the boys, the jocks, in which I hated the most. They’d always come around us during lunchtime singing that song by Outkast called “Roses”. And it was obvious they only sang it because her name was in it—and man did that song get stuck my head, still annoys me today. I on the other hand, I was just the opposite. I was the loner, the rebel, if you will. No one really cared about me, not any girl, but Caroline did. Continue reading →

Elmo and I

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July 9, 2017 by Patrick Starks

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It was always quiet when I was a child, never loud, crazy or exciting. For some that was a surprise, I had four brothers and a sister after all—it was easy to say we were a big family. For the number of us that there were, our parents always made sure we got what we wanted, especially during the holidays, but if you’re thinking we were spoiled—we weren’t. Continue reading →

The Bowman

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July 6, 2017 by Patrick Starks

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The bowman was hungry, he hadn’t eaten for days—at least not since he last had dinner with his family. The days had gotten a lot colder, harsh, and the bowman hadn’t a clue to when he would return—when it was okay to. Continue reading →

Trees: Growth never ends

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July 2, 2017 by Patrick Starks

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The night was cold, yet purifying, the man had discovered something new. He had never seen such a place, let alone one that be so close to his location. However, that wasn’t his concern. He only thought of the scream he heard just moments before entering what he believed to be a sanctuary. He looked everywhere for clues but couldn’t find anything. The man then came across a desolate path—a path of mystery, a path of trickery. He took a step with his left foot and then his right, but as he stepped with his right, he realized he was now upside down. The man was aware he was a bit late to telegraph such a trap, although feared what the trap was laid out for. As he remained swinging by the branch of a tree, he recognized a hat that laid buried beneath the mud. Eager to confirm what it was, the man swayed his upper body side to side to grab it, he missed on his first try. He tried again for the second time missing again—yet, was much warmer than before.  He then gave it one more go, swinging as hard as a child on a playground swing. He finally obtained the hat, falling back into full speed towards the tree he hung. As he gazed at the hat he now held in his rugged palms, his head hit the body of the tree. The man was knocked out and was out for quite some time, but once awakened, found himself in a place mystery. Continue reading →

Trees: From Root to Stem

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June 28, 2017 by Patrick Starks

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The day was hot and muggy. The man stood in front of what appeared to be over a hundred lumberjacks. He tried to explain to them what he saw, what he discovered, but little did anyone care to hear his words.  He’d hoped his best friend Jeff would get an idea of what he was talking about, that he’d understand. But not a word was given, not even the slightest bit of movement—it was as if everyone was frozen in time. The man pleaded for understanding. A few of the men he spoke to walked away, frustrated and annoyed. Life was hard enough already, and being that no one needed lumber for the summer—they weren’t making much of a profit in their line of work either. If they sold anything, it was to teenagers and young adults who just wanted to party and have bonfires. The man’s antics however were not over. He felt that he could sway them, only if they knew the truth—knew his truth.  Continue reading →

TREEs

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June 25, 2017 by Patrick Starks

43033367 - old travelling van in beautiful autumn forest,digital painting

In a planet filled with green and blue, people still seek to find out what was true. It was said that oceans ruled the world, flooding cities and countries making people bow for forgiveness, for they felt their sins were the cause of all its destruction. But the one thing people had forgotten was what watched over them—trees.

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