Distant Lover

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August 14th, 2018 by Patrick Starks 

Distant Lover

“Letting nothing get in our way would be like moving oceans like Poseidon, keeping us reminded, of the things we are still blinded to. We have seen all the signs, yet we have always remained kind, to one another, parting like the ships from docks, distant lovers. But maybe one day you will realize that I only wanted the best for you, as it willows in the night sky more symphonic than a cows moo.”

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

 

Game, Set, Match

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June 10th, 2018 by Patrick Starks

GAME SET MATCH MAIN

To: Athena and Maxilla

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” said mom. “And why is that?”

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

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

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

“Game, set, match!” yelled the judge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here I come love.

Sincerely,

Dad

Ring around the Rosie

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June 3rd, 2018 by Patrick Starks 

RING AROUND MAIN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

“I=Am Love”

March 15, 2018 by Patrick Starks

I AM LOVE.jpg

“If I could fly I’d be an eagle, if I was a dog I’d probably be a beagle. But I am love, so I could just be Cupid, falling in love with all the wrong ones; that made me stupid. Though, my tears are like rivers, finding an ocean to escape, trying to expel passed this plastic world I gape. It is true I am love, but only one turtle dove; no shampoo thereof. But still, I am love, and life is forever precious to me, no matter how far I am pulled from these stars above the sea.”

The Prince and the Fly

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March 7, 2018 by Patrick Starks

PRINCE AND THE FLY

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

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

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

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

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

Prince: Sigh.

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

Prince: Sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fly: Sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prince: Wait!

Assistant: Sigh. Here we go again…

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

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

Prince: Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

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

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

Assistant: But Sir… If I…

Prince: Just bring me the silly mirror!

Fly: Sigh

Assistant: Sigh

Prince: No… No! A frog again…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woman: Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Assistant: What was that?

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

Fly: I-is it a rat?

Prince: No, Maid Marian.

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

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

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

Assistant: Oh, don’t be absurd!

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

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

Prince: Marian if I may please have a word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prince: I-It cant be… Princess Daphne…

TO BE CONTINUED

VJ the Rottweiler

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January 5, 2018 by Patrick Starks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come on dad.

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

—Yes sir.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—But momma…

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

—That dam dog.

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

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

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

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

—Clark! Clark!!

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

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

—Mom what’s wrong with VJ…

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

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

—B-but when is he going to wake?

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

—Damn Cougars, sons of bitches!

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

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

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

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

—Love you always

 

Saving Love

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September 1, 2017 by Patrick Starks 

14806481 - closeup of a hands of a couple held together

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