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

A Night in New York

August 20, 2017 by Patrick Starks 

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(Episode II to Night Light)

“What kind of writing is this?” Night asked. “It looks familiar, I swear I’ve seen it before, even the smell of it brings back memory, although the memory is faint.” The letter was no ordinary letter, for that it had the writings of Night’s ancestors, of his childhood. Nights parents had shown him these writings before, however there was only four that he knew of that could’ve known such—his sisters. It couldn’t have been his parents he thought, but they’d passed years ago. Those were sad time for him and his sisters he thought—annoyed by the pain in his heart, he swayed any remembrance of them, at least what was left. But the letter… it still brought curiosity. Continue reading

Night Light

August 18, 2017 by Patrick Starks

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The days were never this cold, but much warmer.  Night could feel change in the world, in his world, and sooner or later knew that it would come knocking at his doorstep.   In his earlier years, he’d discover his light for the first time, every child had one—but of course, Night was the only one known capable of wielding such, at least with competence. His mother was always concerned for that she felt he was too young for such power—power of the gods. His father on the other hand, was just happy to know he had a boy. He’d already have three little girls after all, and prayed to the heavens that they would one day forgive his sins—sins of the wars he fought, and that they one day bless him with a son—and that day, his prayers would be answered—a new beginning, hope for the village. Continue reading

My Heart, My Kryptonite

August 16, 2017 by Patrick Starks

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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

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