The house was cursed with the clamor of an unceasing silence. Dark, dreary shades hung in the windows, and the thin reflections of the leafless trees danced with the wind. The branches creaked and a light mist clung to the bleak surroundings. Soundlessly, the passersby watched the lamps slowly extinguish as the fixtures burned through their meager ration of oil.
In the house was a man. Dressed in dark garb and prepared for a sleepless night, the man watched as the flame struggled against the thick, oppressive air. The smoke from the fire draped itself over him like a misty cloak, permeating his nightclothes and choking out the pleasant odors of the night air. The room was ill-furnished, filled only with rough-hewn, inexpensive used furniture. The dying ivy that grew in a broken terra-cotta pot in the corner stretched towards the window, attempting in vain to find a ray of life-giving sunshine. The drapes were hung listlessly in the windows, covered with dust and stained from the constant smoke.
On the table was a box. Poorly painted with an acrid smelling paint, the wooden package lay with its top askew. In the box was a heart. The small, bodiless organ lay in the bottom of the box, lonely in its solitude and macabre in appearance. The name of a martyred man of God was scrawled across the paper heart. A box of chocolate candies lay next to the package, on top of the Return to Sender label.
The knife was silent and quick. The blade flashed in dying throes of the lamp. Thus ended the life of a most strangely romantic man. He should have stuck with a teddy bear.
Happy Valentine's Day!