Dear Nicholas Sparks,

I will not fall under your devious spell again.

I have tripped up 4 times too many. You are not going to subject me to your horrors ever again.

Oh you have my two oldest wrapped up in your tale spinning and they cannot break free. They have fallen under your deception but never again will I be privy to your information, the pain and grief you have given me is still in my swollen red eyes even this morning, but I will hold out next time, you can count on it.

You see, your plan is to draw us in with sweet catchy titles and inspirations of true loves and soul mates. You give us the charms and delights and then like generations of fragile china you slam the cabinet to the floor and we watch in horror as it crumbles to dust.

I for one am not going to seek you out, I will turn my back when I see the cover of your DVD, I will close my eyes when your pages open before me and I will don my ipod if your audio tries to pull me in once again. Oh yes, I have tried all these genres and many different stories your sad brilliant mind has delighted in presenting to us in gift wrapped packages of intrigue, but never again.

My first introduction to your house of pain was a simple move made by my girlfriend, who I must have done something bad to her for her to engage me in a movie called, ‘A Walk to Remember.’ My flood gates opened wide and contrary to my girlfriend’s suggestion, Merlot did not dull that pain. I sobbed and hated her since she had suffered the consequences this movie inflicts upon ones soul before and yet she drew me in, and let me taste of its bitter-sweet demise.

Then I caught a movie ‘Message in a Bottle’ on television, I was unaware since the movie started with a cute little story. Had I known and understand that you were the creator, I could have been forewarned of the gale that was about to besot me, but no, me in my naïve ways sat on my couch, sobbing and cursing the screen.

I caught on for a few years, I steered clear of you, but the years dulled my senses and my sweet step daughter talked me into a cassette for my long trips to listen to as I rode. She had read your book and thought it brilliant and convinced me that I would be missing out on a "story of a life time" by not having met Jeremy Marsh, a New Yorker who falls in love and marries a southern gal. She exclaimed in some ways I could relate. Well, I listened to ‘Love at First Sight’, I was dragged in and enraptured. I loved Jeremy and his sweet belle Lexie, hour after hour I laughed and giggled until you caught me, ensnared me, and I was once again a pawn in your hand.

Mile after long mile, I bawled and sobbed and yes again rejoiced, but as I pulled in my drive I had aged by years and my emotions were in shreds. Little had I realized I was in a swamp, caught in a deeper pit than I realized, for I had prior promised to watch a movie with our oldest daughter. “Momma you will love it!” she promoted. Had I known, had I realized that your wicked name would be attached Mr. Sparks I would have told her to throw that movie away, but no, a promise is a promise and last night I wept and cried once again to 'The Notebook'; oh yes, you had your way with me for the last time.

No more!

I will refrain from you and will not fall prey to you once again.

Although I cannot see you, you already know what I know, that in my suitcase is another contraption of torture, one you whispered in my mother’s ear. You are evil Nicholas, but I am far too wise to your ways. I don’t care that my mom bought me an Easter present, I don’t care that ‘The Guardian’ was given to me in such a thoughtful way, because I know you Nicholas Sparks, Oh how I know you, and unfortunately, you do know me.

Sincerely,

Whispered Promises