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.

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

The Silly Family

Featured

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tonka and Barbie

October 8th, 2017 by Patrick Starks

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Season 1 / Episode #2

Here I was, at Barbie’s new home, her new playhouse as some would call it—it had an awkward feeling, nothing welcoming at all, nothing that felt remotely like home; if anything, it felt like the home of Frankenstein, as all I would witness was madness and the baring of slight suspicion within the room. The place was cold, had a smell not usually identifiable to the nose—lingering within the nostrils, no matter how hard you blew, never able to escape, not a cold, not a flu. As well was it poorly lit—making it difficult for even ones with twenty, twenty vision to see, and for that I found where I laid would not be my cup of tea, not warm, nor cold, but neutral. Continue reading

A Warriors Way 27-0

May 24, 2017 by Patrick Starks

WARRIOR PICMany people doubted me, silently hated me- wanting me to fail at every one of my goals in life. But when I looked back and saw that little boy I once was, I see today that it was his strength, his attitude to never care about what others thought— is what pushed me through all the pain, the lies, portrayals. Continue reading