June 24th, 2018, by Patrick Starks
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