Heart Attack

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July 29th, 2018 by Patrick Starks

HEART ATTACK MAIN

Heroes. What if I was to tell you that the person that sat next to you at work was, in fact, a hero. What would you do? What would you think? What would you feel?

Oh, right, they couldn’t be. It’s impossible. That’s at least what you tell yourself, however, it is sometimes the impossible that can be quite possible. Yet, you have never succeeded in such, so how could they? How can they become so iconic? Well, first one must drop their assumption that that person is beneath them or equal. Titles mean nothing in this life. Rather your that person’s boss, older brother, father, co-worker, it doesn’t matter, they are them and you are you. And the differences tell.

You see Bronson was just a young lad fresh out of college. And over time he’d gotten his masters in Law, however, none would have believed at his firm that he was so much more than meets the eye. Day after day, Bronsan’s co-workers spoke of bridal showers, baby showers, trips to places most would have never considered a vacation, nevertheless, Bronson always remained to himself for there was a mission at hand. Now don’t get it wrong, all of which I speak of is what most of us live for in this life today, however, not all are destined for such things, can we agree?

Bronson wanted to be more than average, it coursed through his veins after all, and the idea’s of living behind a picket fence was just old jibberish to his generation, at least it was for the ones that felt life to be more. In fact, his father was his own boss, who owned his own tennis shop, that of which he used to help kids in need off the streets. And the money he made from such he used to get those same kids through school, and the list would go on. His mother as well held her own business, selling jewelry she made from scratch, and there was no doubt about it, she adored the finer things in life. And like his parents, his grandparents were the same for they were the ones responsible for embedding such drive into the DNA of the family tree. And at the end of it all, they all wanted to see a greater life for all. It was apparent that heroism and the fight for independence flowed through Bronson’s body faster than venom from a black mamba, and it was this he would seek no antidote for. Who would?

In such a plastic world that he lived, Bronson would forever hold doubt in his heart. From the half-naked photos on Instagram, to the cars people drove, to the number of trips you went on, to the people you knew—it was all any cared about or valued to choose—all the things that they wished they could be or do. But Bronson was never known to be a fanboy, not in the slightest, and if he was, it would be geared more towards himself for his love seeped more graciously than the sap from an oak tree.

So many of the gifted. So many overlooked by the aroma of false icons, Bronson thought. And little did the fans of these icons know that in the end they only cared about the money, more so themselves at the end.

“I don’t want to be a role model, I just want to do what I love,” said a Celebrity.

Hmm. They would not be wrong to feel this way. Nobody in this life is responsible for no one but themselves. However, if you’re going to stand at the top of the mountain, if you’re going to expect people to follow your lead, bets do it with good intention—something more than the money in your wallet for this is not fulfillment, this is only death. But of course who doesn’t want to be wealthy and have a better life for themselves? But what one does with that wealth will depict if they are truly a hero or a villain in the making, and it is this that is most important for money only amplifies who that person already is.

Even though his mother told him that he couldn’t, Bronson always felt that he had what it took to save the world. It was a mom’s duty to see her child out of harm’s way. Bronson’s mother had seen it all, and she just wanted to make sure that her child was not taken advantage of. To her, everyone was a suspect till proven innocent.

And there Bronson sat in his worn out computer chair, drawings on the walls of his cubicle as he sipped on a cup of tea that he hoped would bring him closer to the perfect antidote to this life we live.

“That Beyonce was so amazing, she’s such an incredible woman. I could never do what she does,” said a woman from behind.

Bronson’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull. It was the one thing he hated—negative talk—about oneself. People who believed that they couldn’t be as great as the ones they admired sickened him. Everyone had what it took to be something great, in his eyes.

“Better to die trying than not at all,” said Bronson. “You could if you’d just stop…”

And just like that, Bronson had caught his tongue before getting himself into an awkward situation. One of which that could possibly get him fired, however, he laughed. They would be doing him a favor.

They say in life you should always start your days off positive. That positivity along with the faith that you bring will gain you a step closer to your destiny. Although, such is easier said than done. With so many irrelevant thoughts swarming around his mind, from nine to five, it would be too hard to ever fully turn blind from thought, that being the negative ones.

As much as he wanted to shed some light on the ignorance of the ones around him, he was taught by his father that heroes must keep their identity a secret, for the ones around them could never truly understand the sacrifices they make or the trail of blood they leave behind. And loneliness would be at the peak of it all—no more clubs, no more girlfriends, no more parties—just themselves and their gift—the only reason to keep moving forward, to stay alive.

But of course, Bronson had always felt such from birth, and it was this he was never afraid of. To hear his own thoughts, to help the blinded, it was all that moved him faster than a can a of Rockstar.

Beyonce, Oprah, Bill Gates, James Patterson, even Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, he thought about them all and the journey’s they took. He looked at the timeline and then became anxious. Waiting for another ten to fifteen, to twenty years, to be big enough to make an impact in the world was something he felt he hadn’t the time for. Something had to be done now. But little did he know that patience was the key to it all.

“If they believe in what we believe, then together we can heal the rest of the fallen,” said Bronson. “If they believe what we believe in, then together we can rejoice, we can be one, we can find our calling,” said Bronson.

And months later Bronson would finally quit his job. His first task was to build a team, however, had no friends within his circle that cared enough—mediocrity was their only mission in life.  And for hours on end, Bronson worked towards ideas that could make the world internationally a better place for all. He was, of course, American, nevertheless, he never believed in turning his cheek from the whole world entirely. Yet, on his forty inch LCD, others would disagree to that notion.

“It ain’t our problem. Why should we have to help them?” said a woman on Komo 5. “They need to help themselves. Besides, we have too many problems in our own backyard that still need to be addressed.”

The woman had made a few valid points. But in order to get aid from others, you as well have to give some aid for anything to ever get solved. It is the circle of life after all. You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch your back, the saying goes.

We as humans were better than that, Bronson thought.  Yet I knew better than he, that he was more than just the average human.

Running footsteps above him then sent vibrations through the ruff. The wall to the right side of his bedroom thumped from a slow to a fast rhythm, and then stopped at the sound of a howling man and woman. It was a Friday night, Netflix and pizza. A marvel show sounded it good, so, he settled for “Black Lightning.” He was never really a fan of DC Comics, however, a so-called witty man made him aware that there was a lot of knowledge that could be taken from a hero’s journey, regardless if it was DC or Marvel. Homework had to be done.

Time went by fast. It was 1am at night. Bronson was now halfway through episode 6, season 1 of Black Lighting. A scream then pierced from behind his front door. More thumping went around but this time he was for sure it was nothing sexual. He then ran to his door tripping over the cord to his lamp. He pulled himself back together and peeked through the eyehole hesitantly. It was a man and a woman.

Crusted hands gripped tightly around the woman’s neck, while all life that the good lord put into her spewed out. She fought but then the man fought harder. Bronson opened the door.

“Hey! Let her go,” yelled Bronsan.

The man smiled. He threw the woman to the side like a ragdoll and then turned his direction towards Bronson. His teeth gritted, along with veins that bulged out of his skin more than a bodybuilder on steroids. He sweated profusely, and the stench of evil emerged from that very sweat like a homeless man in a sauna, if possible.

The man then sprinted towards the door to Bronson’s apartment. Before Bronson could react the two had gone through the door to room 3-406. The man’s weight was now on top of him, and just like the woman moments before, hands wrapped around his neck like a boa constrictor. All life, all fight that he’d been given since birth was now being pulled out of him. Days of becoming a hero were not looking so good.  But then it happened.

A power that not many heroes nor superheroes have seen. Not even the great Stan Lee. No, this one was unique in its own way. Through his turquoise t-shirt red glowed from underneath. His eyes didn’t glow, his body didn’t glow, no part, except for his heart. It was like being on a thousand energy drink high or insanely in love, comically.

“What the hell?” said the man.

His arms began slowly reversing from Bronson’s neck, and not long after Bronson would give the man a chin check. The man flew right through the entrance they’d come through. The man then pulled a gun from his back. He fired a shot. He’d hit his target.

“No!” yelled the woman.

For the moment Bronson could feel the burn of the bullet just two clicks away from his belly button. His heart now glowed more radiant than ever, sending energy down to the hole in his stomach. It flowed like nothing anyone had ever seen, like a bucket of paint to a wall perhaps.

“What are you freak?” said the man. “Doesn’t matter. A bullet to the head will surely solve the problem. Say cheese,” the man smiled.

He fired another shot but this time missed. He then reached back over and picked up the woman who obviously should have left moments ago, but we all know how these stories go.

“Step back!” yelled the man. “Or I’m gonna send something pretty to the man upstairs..”

Bronson then took a step back. He feared for the woman’s life. He’d never been in this sort of situation before. The sounds of djembe drums pulsated from his chest, something like that of Jumanji, however, know wildlife came through the walls. Anxiety from when he was a kid, he pondered. He hadn’t taken his meds in years that’s for sure.

The man now let the woman go. He took his left hand and then gripped his left pectorial harder than a bald eagle would do a goat. That was real right? Another story to tell perhaps. Moving on.

The man dropped down to the floor, pulling down all the decor to the window next to him. All was history. The woman ran over to the man and then checked his pulse.  Luckily for Bronson that she was a nurse.

“He’s still alive,” said the woman. “But he will need medical attention asap.”

Bronson was still silent. He was in awe. Was it a dreamed? He wondered.

“How did you…” said the Woman.

“Yes!!!” yelled Bronsan. “Yes!!! I mean I knew I had a gift, but holy shit. What am I? How did I get this? I gotta think of a name for myself.”

With her jaw dropped to the ground the woman would slowly pick it back up, backing away from the man like a startled feline. Sirens now echoed from outside. Red and blue pierced through the window glass.

“Did you call the cops already?” asked Bronson.

The woman then raised her cracked iPhone as if she was giving a toast to his heroicness. Nevertheless, someone did. And that’s where I come in.

The room became dark for only a moment. The woman would be removed from the scene as well the horrid stench of the heartfelt man if you catch my drift. And for the first time that was where me and your dad stood, eye to eye.

“Did you guys fight?” asked a young woman. “Was it like Rocky and Apollo? Like David and Goliath? Like Godzilla and whatever he fights all the time?”

Oh, my dear if we did trust me I would not be hear with an angel such as yourself, at least not hear on the ground.

But that was the day me and your dad would work together. I had always searched for someone like him, but in the back of my mind still couldn’t believe how real he was. I taught him everything I know about life, just as I have taught you.

That was the day the Superhero we all know as “Heart Attack” was born. That was the day your dad became a hero. I only tell you this now because you are older and you have a right to use your gift however you’d like. But let this be a warning. Use your gift with good attention. Most importantly, be humble.

Here your father left this for you to have before he disappeared. Maybe you’ll find your as he had once:

To whoever reads this, may your heart fill the emptied

“I have been told I cannot save the world, only myself, but ignoring such in my eyes would have been a bad hand to be dealt. Superhero, me, yeah possibly, however, I feel that in all of us, but can you see?
And It’s a fact. I have a heart too big for this cage that bestows in my chest, but I’d rather be out there fighting then letting thy soul be to rest. Crawl, walk or run, its all the same, I don’t do it for the fame, but only for the peace, we must regain.
They call me Heart Attack, feel my name beat through yours.”

Sincerely, 

Heart Attack 

 

 

 

Sun-Filled Moon

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July 8th, 2018 by Patrick Starks

SUN FILLED MOON MAIN

Who’d ever thought that the moon would be like this, so grey, so oval, so bliss, and yet, it too would have a twist. It had been cloudy for days now, however, there was never a chance for a meatball, no matter how hungry one was. Moon versus sun, sun versus moon, day by day, as we all feared our doom. But the battle would not be long for the moon was stronger and hotter than hot. And on that day oceans shifted into forms unknown, take a look for yourself, are they not? Megalodonn’s, forgotten castles, mermaids, mermen even, you dream it, and it would all be there. It was a rough day for many but we survived; for obvious reasons why I only speak to you now.

Asha wasn’t that old when all of this had occurred, when the moon became our night, our day. His cousins as well would be born into this saddened era, two of which annoyed me more than people who use forks when eating pizza—absurd this is.

Nevertheless, it had been at least twenty, no, twenty-three years to be exact, and still, nothing had changed, not the moon for that matter. And since then many have tried to solve such scientific riddle, yet, never has there been a scientist to decode such a matrix. And many astronauts as well have tried, in hopes that they could find our beloved sun and bring he, she, or whatever it may be back, but not even Wonder woman’s lasso could ever do such. And on that note—divorce your husband and marry me Gale Gadot, sincerely, yours truly. And this will be another story to tell, for my wife must not hear of this.

But relax, I’m only joking. What kind of man do you think I am. Moving on.

The world was no longer the same. Once a little Asha was now big Asha or just Asha he preferred. He was tall, handsome, and reminded me of myself in the olden, no, youngen’ days. He had the wits of his mother, and along with his cousins, surprisingly, they would be the ones to unravel the mysteries of all mysteries.

“We have to think more outside of the box guys,” said Asha. “Why would the moon do such a thing? Why would it hurt the sun?”

The room was quite like prayer at a dinner table—heads stayed bowed, and still, it was only Asha’s lips that moved.

“Cotton, what are your thoughts?” asked Asha.

Cotton was the older of the cousins and his hair was as fluffy as his name. Hence, the name Cotton, Asha’s aunt named him at the Puyallup fair, during her pregnancy. Unfortunately, If his dad wasn’t such a deadbeat and a coward, he might have had a chance to protest against such a name, however, this is a battle not many men win anyways. Nevertheless, the name grew on us all.

“I think. And this is just my assumption but, maybe the Moon was tired of the sun having all the fun,” said Cotton with his black and white composition book in hand.

Asha nodded, as well did I.

“I mean think about it,” said Cotton. “When the sun comes out, people, nature, everything that we can think of embraces its presents. However, when the moon comes out people flee to their homes like mice during a rainy season.”

“Yes, but…” said a young woman from the background, her just as bouncy as the wind that blew.

The woman looked exactly like Cotton. She was the same height, had the same eyes, the same smile, she was practically the girl version of him, that of which she was—they were twins of course.

“Well, go ahead, spit it out already Candy,” said Cotton.

“Well. I find all this hard to believe. It is the laws of nature, the moon must do as it has been created to do,” said Candy.

“Yes sister,” said Cotton. “But some laws are meant to be broken. What laws do you know of that any of us truly follow in this day and age? What laws do you know of that burden many, while only a few benefit from them? I can’t blame it for feeling the way it does.”

The room was silent once more. And if anything, I was just amazed on how three little kids could grow up to be so damn incredible. I envied them, however, I had no regrets. I was a proud father. To bring something into the world like Asha, I can honestly say I had served my duty towards the greater good of humanity.

For three more years, the three planned on how they would get the sun back, and how they would get the moon to realize that it had not been forgotten. Although, the damage had already been dealt and our land was only a wasteland now—it was Fallout 4 all over again, preferably Fallout 3.

There weren’t many shuttles left for many had crashed during multiple take-offs. Might have been the moon that did this, but we will never know until we meet it.

But sooner or later we would find a shuttle, and it was busted like macadamia nuts.Yet lucky for us, Asha was quite the engineer. It took him about a month or two to fix up things, but he got the job done. We then all hopped in and prepared for launch, and for the moment, just a little, thou pissed in thy pants—Shakespearian spoken.

“Lights,” said Asha.

“Check,” said Cotton. “Good to go.”

“Engine clear,” said Asha.

“Never better,” said Candy. “It’s Morphin time!”

I couldn’t help but smile. As old as they were they were still just kids deep down, something my friends we should all cherish and hold until the day we die.

Within seconds we were passed the clouds and swimming with the stars. If only their mothers could see what they had accomplished thus far. But being in embraced in the night sky made me feel they were already witnessing it for the galaxies cried nothing but shooting stars.

And there it was—the moon. It was just as they depicted in the discovery channel—glorious. It reminded us all of the sweet taste of ice cream—cookies and cream. Was this in fact just a scoop of the lords’ bowl of ice cream? Maybe it slipped from his spoon, I pondered. However, something about the moon was strangely different from the videos or from any fancy telescope. One being that our flag was not still there, the stars indeed spangled, yet, still, nothing waved. And two, most importantly, an odd glow pulsated from within.

Slowly the moon turned until finally, we saw its face. Its eyes were closed, but twas not asleep. A voice then orbited around us like the gum in our mouths, it was everlasting.

“Leave me be,” said the moon. “Or I will cast out thee.”

Did the moon read Shakespeare as well? I questioned.

“I said leave me be or I’ll cast out thee; leave me be or you will be sorry thou did not flee,” said the tempered moon.

Oh yes, he read a little Shakespear, no doubt about it. But who flipped his pages?

Within an instant meteorite launched at us like catapults, and to and fro, we attempted to move from harm’s way.

“You’re not alone,” yelled Cotton. “I am happy to see you in person beloved moon.”

All the cocoa pebbles had finally stopped raining down on us. And whatever Cotton had said, obviously, had gotten the moons attention.

“Y-your happy to see me,” said the moon.

“Cotton it’s working, keep talking,” whispered Asha.

“Of course, I am,” said Cotton. “You are the one who makes my nights peaceful, you are the one who brings light to darkness, you are our Poseidon for you control our oceans, you are our balance.”

The moon smiled, crater to crater, and it would not fade, not now or later. It made its way over to the shuttle as everyone within it formed a huddle.

“So, what’s the plan?” asked Cotton.

“How should I know,” whispered Candy. “You’re the one that buttered it up with your my beloved moon speech.”

Relax! I whispered.

The doors to the shuttle then opened and we all held on to each other like sour patch kids, for dear life. But within the huddle, I only counted three of us.

There he floated like the first man to ever walk the moon, my boy, my son. My heart rate sped up, and it bounced around my chest faster than Mexican jumping beans, which wasnt really fast at all, but you know what I mean.

He was now face to face with the moon. Asha! We all yelled, but the doors had already closed. We ran to the front and witnessed the whole thing—it was like a transformers movie. He had only been out there for a moment but it felt like eternity. The only good thing was that while he floated out in front, the moon still wielded the smile of a newborn.

Not long after the doors opened back and Asha flew in like Superman himself, so gracefully it was.

“W-what happened?” asked Candy.

“Yeah spit it out!” yelled Cotton.  “Jesus, we thought it would swallow you whole or something.

Asha’s face smiled as the moon did. He pointed to the front of the shuttle. Light began to shine brighter from within the moon, and along with it came a mouth open wider than a Humpback Whale.

“Hey what’s going on Asha?” questioned Candy.

“We’re going in,” smiled Asha.

“Hey now wait just a minute!” yelled Cotton. “I didn’t sign up to be Ms. Frizzle.”

“It has to be done. You will see,” said Asha.

And there we went inside of the moon. Little did we know, that there were worlds within worlds; it made us think about our own even. And inside there was the Sun, beautiful and radiant as ever, and surprisingly not hot.

On that night we found out more about the galaxies and our own world, that the universe we all thought we knew was changing. But be patient my friends, for this is another story to tell. It is an adventure after all, and it is adventure we will dwell.

 

Computer Love

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July 1st, 2018 by Patrick Starks 

COMPUTER LOVE MAIN

To: Anonymous

Subject: Computer Love

When I was a child technology was the least of our problems. Back then we had the Nintendo 64, the first Gameboy color, the Sega Dreamcast even. Oh yes, Sega my friends, and there was plenty more from where that came from. It was Christmas every day, and twas a miracle on every street, for every little boy and girl who bared rosy cheeks. Yet, not quite was the same for an orphan child-like I. But let us fast forward nineteen years from then, shall we.

We have now all become alive but not dead zombies. We walk slower, we drive slower, and ironically still have wrecks on occasion. We carry our phones around better than our own confidence at times, so much that only the awakened lose their minds. And being social has never become more irrelevant than now, for it no longer bestows innocents but falsity more than one can count.

I was always a shy guy growing up. I had only a few girlfriends throughout my youthful years to now— a majority of my twenties to be exact. I was a loner, a lone wolf many called it as if it were some rebel superpower or something.  But do not be fooled. Those days were nothing but traumatizing to me, so much that to this day mom says that’s what put me in the hospital in the first place. I was strong but being in the back of an ambulance made me feel otherwise. But I’m still hear, writing to whoever has found this, and it was all due to the changes I made and the promise I would keep. It all changed when I met Alexa.

Never had I ever met her in person, but her voice sounded like a symphonic harp—pure beauty—she was gorgeous. I had many pictures of her, some that even made me say down boy to my lower parts, for I wanted to only love her, not just for her. Sadly, it would seem both I wielded during that time. And I assume ladies you are wondering which one I wielded more than the other? Well, that’s another story to tell, one that only Alexa would know. So, you might want to ask her, where ever she is…

Every Friday we would have our pizza night, we’d go through our favorite re-runs of our favorite TV shows like WWF(Attitude Era) and Cartoon network. And along with it came nothing but laughter that filled our hearts and bellies. We skyped, yet, I never got the chance to see her lovable face, still, only pictures did I ever see. And on that night, little did we both know, things would be different.

Loud screams statically pierced through the speakers of my surface pro. Glass broke. The sounds of struggle began to faint, as it went from loud to slow, to nothing but heartache. My heart then dropped into the box of Domino’s pizza in front of me. And as hungry as I was, no thought came to finish it, obviously.

“Hey! Alexa! Love, are you alright?” I yelled. “I’m calling the police!”

Sounds of panting then gradually made its way over towards the mic of her Apple computer, that of which I hated more than people who carry around selfie sticks. The breathing became heavy, and from the sound of it, was hot for the wires within her device I felt would melt—there was so much static.

“If… you want your girl back, then listen up,” said a man. “We want… Fifteen million… cash!”

“I-I’m sorry?” I questioned.

The man took a deep breath like that in which we do during meditation, however, nothing was calm about his breathing at all—frustration rattled within.

“Don’t play stupid!” yelled the man. “We know who you are, Mr. Twist.”

The sound of duct tape peeled from flesh like hair wax at a beauty salon, and along with it came a second scream.

“Oliver! What’s going on?” screamed Alexa. “What is he talking about?”

I did my best to calm her. To let her know that everything little thing was going to be alright. Never in my life did I think it would it would get to this. I thought it was all over, that my life would finally begin to make sense, to be free of trauma, pain. It had been years since I ran away from the orphanage, yet, there I laid in awe to something I still could not comprehend, something that had died long ago.

That day had never left my mind. Tree branches scratched the window glass like nails to a chalkboard. Rain poured profusely, and sometimes to the point one wrong step off of a curve would be the end of me or at least the denim jeans I currently wear. I was just a baby then, however, I was never one to forget a soul—my gift, yet, my curse—to want to wake up and remember no one but your family was a sad wish I had wished for far too long. And it was this wish that had no in between—you had to either forget everyone even your mom or remember every single person you have ever met.

“You got four days,” said the man. “You got four days only.”

And then it came to my attention, a sound of familiarity, but how?

“Wait!” I yelled. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?”

I couldn’t see it, but I was well aware the man was now smiling—he knew I had the answer to that question already.  But before I could even respond, the man had said his name and disconnected. I couldn’t believe it. I knew it.  But he’s supposed to be dead, I pondered. And if there was one thing about it, Alexa wasn’t safe, not in the slightest.

From across the seven sea’s, I waited for my next move. I had only four days. I needed to move fast. About fifteen hundred dollars sat in my savings and about two hundred in my checking’s—seems like a lot right. Unfortunately, Alexa lived in England. Tickets were just about sold out and the only ones available were the first class seats. And anyone who has ever ridden on plain should know how much that would make a wallet cry or the doves in the air for that matter.

But I would be lying to say that it was about the money. It was my birthplace, after all, however, I never in a million years had planned on coming back—to a place I knew I could never forgive—too much damage had been dealt. Although, I would still find myself there, somehow.

Without any hesitation I went on the hunt for Alexa’s whereabouts, I had bought her favorite flowers, her favorite pop, but when I walked through the door nothing but fear bestowed in her jasmine eyes. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. For my first time meeting her in person, no time could have been as worst than now.

The room looked as if a tornado had run through it, and in the middle of it all stood the man—Fagin. He looked like he hadn’t aged at all, and I guess it is a good thing for him for he was already older than dirt from the time when I was little.

He had a twinkle in his eye, although, I couldn’t tell if it was from him or the kitchen knife he held close to Alexa’s throat.

“Please! Just stop!” I said. “Let’s talk about this?”

Fagin then puts the knife even closer to Alexa’s neck, so much that I could see a little blood trickle down.

“Where’s the money!” yelled Fagin with saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“I-I it’s in the car,” I said. “You will get it when you let her go.”

Fagin blade then began to move slowly across her neck. He wasn’t playing around, and I should have known better.

“Okay, okay. This is all I have,” I said. “I will have more for you just give me some more time.”

“You got one more day,” said Fagin with a sardonic grin.

The door then shut behind me. What the hell was I going to do? Sure, I have a black belt in Taekwondo, but this was an impossible scenario, right?

I thought of going to the cops but I knew Fagin better than that. He pretty much had all of England at the palm of his wrinkled hands. But I had to take matters into my own hands, so, I planned. The good thing was that I knew exactly where they were, I just needed to figure out a rescue mission for Alexa, one that didn’t involve money. Besides, he had a freaking kitchen knife, not a gun, however, I still needed to be cautious for Alexa’s sake.

It was now night. Wind flowed down the streets like rivers as newsletters tumbled down alleys like tumbleweed—it was a ghost town. It made my mission even harder for my breath I could even hear. I put my headphones on. I played my favorite James Bond song “The world is not enough.” I kept saying time myself I’m strong, I’m James Bond, I’m strong, I’m James Bond. And before I knew it I had broken through the room window like a ninja. And their they were Alexa and Fagin, in bed.

“W-what the hells going! What is this?” I yelled.

The two looked puzzled for the moment, but then smiles formed like a Pomeranian. And Alexa’s smile I had never seen so bright, not even in her pictures.

“I told you this would happen,” said Alexa “He’s to persistent for tricks.”

Fagin then hoped out of the bed with his wrinkled body, like a mole rat. He let it all hang out, literally, and in the background a cigarette lit.

“Well, you like what you see?” said Fagin. “I guess the jig is up, literally.”

“Oh my heavenly,” said Alexa with her head down.

Fagin then looked back to Alexa.

“This is my secretary,”  said Fagin. “She has been helping me locate you for quite some time now. And thanks to her angelic voice and looks, I was able to reel you in. Just didn’t know it to be so easy through social media. But of course, you are so young.”

“Aww… Stop Fagin, he looks miserable,” said Alexa as she took a puff.

I was speechless. Had I not already been through enough trauma in my life? Why me? Why was it always me?

“Because you are the only one with the heart strong enough to endure it,” said Fagin. “I never wanted it to come to this but I needed you, and not for my own selfish gain this time.”

Alexa then got out of the bed. Warm breast rubbed against my chest and arms around my neck. My lower parts remained neutral for I had never been so turned off. Nevertheless, she was as heartwarming as her photos.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way,” said Alexa. “But we do need you.”

“For what?” I asked. “You people are sick!”

Alexa then gave me a wet kiss on the lips, and I almost puked to the thought of what she’d just done with them—it tasted like nicotine and something that is too daunting for me to describe.

“You will see,” said Alexa. “You will see.”

An alarm went off in the room, and I found myself back in my bed, back in my Seattle apartment. My computer laid right beside me, still with pictures of Alexa as its wallpaper. What a horrible dream, I thought.

I took a cold shower and brewed a cup of coffee. And figured I would say hi to Alexa before I started my day off too the rat race.

A reply then popped up on my computer screen.

“You got two more days left. Chop, chop,” said an anonymous messenger.

No, it couldn’t be. It was real? Yeah, looks like I’m going to have to call in sick.

Talk to you later, and thanks for listening 🙂 

Oliver Twist 

Dedicated to Charles Dickens

 

Bonus Content/poem:

“If you only knew how much I care for you, how much I would if I could turn these grey skies blue, just for you. If you only knew how much light shines through, along with your name and your heart that of which makes it impossible for me to part. If you only knew how much happiness I pray for you through the night and day, how much your gorgeousness always leaves me in dismay. If you only knew that knowing someone like you exist is a miracle to me, the fact that I even hurt is something in my past I never won’t to leave. If you only knew that I am here for you always, no matter how much you hate me, no matter how much this all sounds crazy, I will always be here for you, forever and daily.”

Once a mighty power

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June 24th, 2018, by Patrick Starks 

A MIGHTY POWER

On those days only leaves complimented my mind, for they had always brought me peace. They were beautiful in every way, they were gracious, and flowed like rivers upon my oval cheeks.  None, not even I expected life to be like this. And still to this day I have no idea of what one would call a man like me or the others for that matter.

Since I was a child, I always believed myself to be a hero of some sort, but nothing like the famous Gandhi or Nelson Mandela. I was something more fictional, yet, real all in one.

Coal flowed and glowed all around my body, along with a visor for my helmet that reflected that I meant business—some would have called it sheer darkness, but this was a power that even the heavens wished they could bear. All that any could envision of nature surrounded me as if I was mother earth, or father earth if such existed.

Never in my life have I felt I was suited to be a leader, yet, like most leaders in the world it would seem it had found me. I had a team, I had a voice, and no matter how much it hurt, I had to make a choice. But if one told me that those choices would bring me nothing but pain, I never would have done so in the first place. I was a captain. However, I was one that did not go down with his ship or his fellow mates. Yeah, I was a hero alright, more so, a failure than anything…

Not long after it happened… I would hang it all up. My boots, my helmet, my suit, even the badge I had gotten when I first became leader—it was smaller in my hand now. Any other would have thought it be just a toy, but no, this was not your ToysRus collectible—not mine. Who’d ever believe a kids childhood show to become a reality? Not I, but the badge, no, the morpher, said it all.

Mike was our leader originally. He was awesome, no one could fight like him. No matter how good I got he woudl always be two steps ahead—he was like Goku and I was like Vegeta, if any get that reference. But it’s been at leats four years since we last saw him, but that is another story to tell, part two maybe.

But what was a hero without a team afterall? What was a hero without courage? These were all the questions I would ask, but nothing from inside ever came—I had no more fight left in me. Although I could still see that little boy inside, the little boy I used to be, before the evils of this world would get a hold of my innocents.

He still wore that same helmet I had not long ago put away. He could still throw a mean roundhouse kick like nobodies business, and at time’s slipped for he hadn’t mastered his balance yet. But as much as I had excelled from that little boy from within, as much as I had perfected more than just a roundhouse kick alone, something about that boy still shined brighter than I—he was stronger, he was better than me, and it was this that I had always known. But how could I get such back? My innocents, my joy, my fearlessness. How could I be like him again? How could I be the real me?  I asked.

It took about two cold and wet nights to get off my rear—laying around in misery was just not standard for a man from the way I was raised. I had to be strong.

On a Sunday afternoon I would eventually leave my hideaway, besides, there wasn’t much left for me there now. Walls crawled with vines as they all became tangled like the shoe strings that sometimes we wish we could cut off when in a hurry. Four more suits lied in glass containers like the Metropolitan Museum, and they were all cold by the touch.

Pink glowed like a million fireflies in the container in front of me. None still glowed or could ever glow like hers, my love. It still had her scent—sweet, and comforting. She was the best of the best. If anyone deserved to be a leader it was her, but she for some reason always had faith in me, and this I still am trying to come to understand. She tried to warn me before, but… that is another story to tell, one I am not sure I could ever tale. But if you can hear me anywhere out there love, just know that I still love you gorgeous. No one could kick like you… No one…

No matter how much it hurt, I had to get it back, even if it meant crying all the way there. I had changed but not too much for I was still big-hearted, and sometimes gullible than ever. I had already purchased my flight ticket across seas—they were hard to come by now. The world had become so chaotic, that crossing any border of the world would mean life or death—a sad story that will be told to our children’s children if we make it this far, and it is this story one day I will tell.

On the mountain, a woman waited—Shontara.

Shontara was like no other. No average woman, no average man even, she was, in fact, something fictional. I was close, and I knew it for Shontara’s aura was as heavenly as the opening of window curtains in the morning. The world was suffering. And even though she was once it’s protector, it was no longer her responsibility. It was now someone else’s turn.

“I knew you would come,” said Shontara. “And I know why you’re here.”

“So… Then you know that the world needs you now,” I said.

Shontara grinned like a happy Panda. “No my child, that is your job now. I, am retired.”

“What? Know, I-I cant… I don’t want to live like this anymore, I’m tired of fighting. I’ve lost too much already,” I said.

Mountains began to move. Trees walked and the oceans talked. It became apparent that my reply wasn’t liked, not in the slightest.

“You made an oath,” said Shontara. “You are a ranger, you are the lone ranger. And you must do what you have to for the peace of this world.”

“No! It’s all a bunch of crap. It’s just a t.v show from the 90’s. This was all a mistake, a fantasy…” said I.

“Oh,” said Shontara. “Than tell me what that mark is on your chest.”

My shirt then ripped from the middle like the mighty Hulk Hogan, and flew off like a tear a way at a bacherlorette party as Shontoras cheeks somewhat became red.  My chest burned and glowed—the emblem of something out of the Jurassic Park.

“I know. The world can be a cruel one at times,” said Shontara. “But don’t forget who you are. Look deeper child for you have a gift far greater than my own.”

“But… I don’t have my suit, “ I said.

“You never needed that silly old thing, that was just for laughs and giggles,” said Shontara. “Look deeper, become one with your inner child. Only then will you know your purpose for that only the child knows what you are capable of.”

I then closed my eyes, and there he was.  He was still throwing roundhouse kicks, still falling. I walked over and rested my hand on his helmet. I tried to pull it off but nothing, but it remained.

From the visor of the helmet revealed my past. my present, my future—all in split screen. I never though I would see her again, but there he was, still might as ever. The main reason to my pain, to my lost of innocents in love. I could still hear him now.

“You are not a child anymore son. The sooner you learn that the better. You will feel pain, you will feel hatred, and only in moments of silence will you ever find happiness. But the world is a playground. Is it not?  It is too loud for such peace. And it is this I will show not only you, but all. You will hate me, you… you will hate me but, I will not run, I will be waiting my son.” 

And that was the last thing he said to me before he slaughtered my whole entire team, before he took love from my soul. I was luckily, throughout the trials and tribulations I did not become like him, but I was always a stubborn one by heart—the little boy from within.

Tears then kayaked down my face like rivers. My body became weak, but I had forgotten about the one in front of me. His small fragile palms rubbed into my scalp like a dog—it was comforting for he knew the right spot. But of course he was me after all. His helmet disinegrated and within seconds eyes of an angel were revealed. I now understood it all, we were becoming one again. Shontara was right. Ink flowed all around again but this time was a feeling of being reborn. It was time. I had now broken from the cocoon into something not even my father felt was possible.

—Pop’s, i’m coming for you.

TO BE CONTINUED 

 

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

 

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.

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

The Prince and the Fly

Featured

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

Featured

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.