For the last three days, Mara has received a card, flowers and a box of assorted chocolates at work. Each came with a note, not signed, One day I will have you.

At first, the gifts were pleasing and put smiles on her face, but the more she thought about it, the more she wondered, “What if this is some creep or sicko, playing mind games with me.”

The end of another week arrived and with that, she left the office on a dark and somewhat dreary Valentine night. With a slight grimmacing smile (and no Valentine lover in her life), Mara started walking the five blocks back to her apartment. What, with the weather frigid, she walked briskly, with purpose.

Starting on block number two, she could hear whistling, a somewhat eerie whistling. Mara didn’t stop to see where it was coming from and began to increase her pace, all the time thinking how nice it would be when she left Saturday to spend the day with her sister, Grace.

In block three, the whistling seemed louder, and closer. This time, she did turn, without stopping, but saw no one. Her heart began to race slightly higher and she was becoming nervous. Where was the whistling coming from?

By block four, her nerves slowly cracking, for now, the whistling continued. It was as if the tune itself was mocking her now apparent fear, Desparately, she tried to make her legs speed up so she could be inside her apartment, and be safe from whoever it was doing that eerie whistling.

As she reached block five, she felt, more than heard someone directly behind her. Fearful and scared, she walked faster; tears formed and slid slowly down her cheeks.

Less than fifty feet from steps that would lead her to the security door to her apartment building; that was when it happened.

A hand reached out and spun her around.

She gave out a brief piercing scream, and as quickly, she cut short.

“Oh, Brandon! It’s you. You gave me such a scare.”

Brandon works for the same company she does They rarely speak at great length, but they say good morning to each other. Simple things, nothing more.

“Yes, it’s me, Mara. I had hoped that....”

“Hoped for what? Wait! Was that you that sent me all those gifts? Thank you.”

“Yes, it was me. I had hoped you would like them, but then I overheard you saying to no one in particular, what if it’s some kind of sicko.”

With that, he plunged the knife deep into her belly and twisted the blade.

Mara’s eyes went wide from the pain but no sound came from between her lips. The suddenness and shock was too much for her. Her blood pooled out of her in the shape of a heart.

“I just wanted to get to know you better, Mara, but that won’t happen, will it. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Brandon walked to his apartment, thinking, Who will be next?

Jack: So, what’s your zodiac sign?

Kristy: I’m a Scorpio.

Jack: Ah, cool.

He cleared his throat and looked at his watch. Jack would have shared his zodiac sign, too— but he could never recall what it was. She had told him she’d have to leave soon. Jack sighed and gave Kristy a hug.

She told him that she had a great night and couldn’t wait for their next meet. Jack smiled and escorted her toward a taxi.

He watched the taxi all the way till it stopped at the light, then turned right when the light was green. Jack walked to his car and grabbed his car keys.

When he reached for his door handle, he felt a sting on the back of his neck. He brushed his hand and he had caught~ a Scorpion. Where had it come from? He felt dizzy and fell to the ground. The last thing he remembered was that he had seen a scorpion, but it was only a tattoo on Kristy’s left back-side.

#DeadlyValentine.

It could be the television? Might she have left it on this morning when she left for work? She could not remember having turned the set on, but then she couldn’t remember closing the bedroom door, either. A cold current of fear shot adrenaline upward from her tailbone, expanding through her chest, down her arms to spark her fingertips... an alert, something was not as it should be.

She didn’t normally come home for lunch, but she wanted him to find the bottle of “Old Fitzgerald Bourbon” when he got home. It was an expensive, and rare treat. He would be ecstatic!

She laid the card with its sexy message and the beautifully gift-bagged bourbon on the granite bar-top. “No,” she knew, “the sounds coming from the bedroom were not the television.” Her heart began a slower beat, a cautious beat, a life unravelling beat. A strange taste bit the tip of her tongue, metallic and sharp. She tip-toed to the door. It could not be... not on Valentine’s Day, of all fucking days?

Twenty years crouched behind that door, waiting to pounce. Can there be a fear greater than twenty years lost? Of a lifetime spent wasting? The door stared back at her with immeasurable dread. Twenty years of life, of love, and children raised. Twenty years working, and saving, and laughing. It just couldn’t be... not today. They had reservations for tonight at ’Velencia’s”, for Christ’s sake! They were supposed to grow old together. It was that time for them! Could he really be in there banging some twenty-fucking-something-year old intern?

But what if it wasn’t some intern? What if he was in love? Her mind raced, looking for missed clues. How long could this have been going on? He was with her on Valentine’s Day. What did that mean? Was it just an easy day for a star-struck seduction, or was there more to it?

Her lip was trembling now, joining her fingers. Her chest was weighted, crushing her breath. What if it was Lucy? What if she lost her husband and her best friend in one life-draining swoop? What would she do then? That would be unbearable, would it not? He and Lucy had always been close, casually flirtacious. They were even cute together, how they got along so well. “Oh, God... could she have been that blind?”

And what would she do? Not about the cheating, but with the rest of her life? She did not want to be alone. She loved her life, the life they had built together... she loved him! Perhaps she should sneak away. She could act like it never happened. The kids were at college, they would never have to know. These things passed quickly sometimes, if left alone.

There was a, “shush”, from behind the wall. They heard her. They heard something. She began to panic. Should she run? She reached for the knob, and threw the door open... loosing the beast that would devour her.

“I feel eyes watching me from the shadows.” Flame Point said to his friend as he looked around.

“ ’Tis your imagination, Flamey!!” White Feather, a white Unicorn Heraldor, said as she walked along side of Flame Point.

Then, they both heard a bush rustle behind them. They turned around and didn’t see anyone. They turned a corner and stood on her front porch.

“Go home and sleep. See you tomorrow.” She said with a chuckle and kissed him on the cheek.

He smiled and walked into his house. He ignored Midnight and walked into the kitchen where his parents were. He felt someone watching him. He spun around and didn’t see anyone.

“I feel someone’s watching me.” Flame Point said as he looked at Midnight.

“It’s only Nature watching.” His mother said.

“I’m serious. I feel like someone’s stalking me.” Flame Point said as he heard breathing.

“Absurdity. Go to your room!!” His father snarled as he pointed upstairs.

“No!! Someone IS stalking me!! Y’all selfish!!” Flame Point yelled back at his father.

“Room!!” His father’s voice boomed throughout the room.

Flame Point stomped upstairs and into his room. He looked through his window. He could see an outline of a heart and a face of someone. He closed the curtain. Later, he fell asleep. Someone carried him into the kitchen. He woke with a start as he heard laughter. He yelled. Midnight burst through the house. She saw him in the kitchen, with his legs tied together above a pot of boiling water. She turned the stovetop off.

“How?” Midnight asked as she untied his legs and set him on the floor.

“T’was our neighbor. She’s got a window that faces mine.” Flame Point said.

He went into the living room with Midnight in tow.

“We don’t have a neighbor.” Midnight said.

Flame Point laid on the couch. His sister went back to bed. That morning, Midnight walked into the living room and saw a blood trail that led out the back door. His sister followed the blood trail all the way to The Boss’ house.

“Where’s he?” Midnight yelled as she knocked on the door.

A young winged girl answered the door.

“He’s here, safe and sound.” She snapped at her as she closed the door.

“Who was it, Aphrodite?” Flame Point asked as he held his side.

“Nobody.” She said.

“Minions, come!” Their boss yelled.

They all ran. Flame Point kept looking over his shoulder. He got there and stood by the Boss. He motioned Aphrodite to stand in front of Flame Point. He kept hearing laughter until he heard his Boss start pulling the trigger. Aphrodite snapped and disappeared.

BANG!!! The gun shot, killing him instantly. His body dropped as Aphrodite reappeared from thin air. His Boss started crying.

“First Officer Flame Point killed. Born-January 15, 1720. Joinage-January 20, 1738. Death Date-February 14, 1755.” One of the other minions said.

“Never trust a stalker like me.” Aphrodite said as she walked away from the scene.

I knew someone was following me, the whole time.

It was Valentine’s Day, and, like always, I was alone on a bus. Now sure, there were other people on it, just none of them knew I existed.

I had of course had clothes stolen from my bedroom, flowers, anonymously given, of course, and the occasional love letter. But I never really paid it much mind. I was flattered, actually. Someone cared enough to stalk me.

But there were days, like today, that I worried.

We all worry though, right? I’m fine.

My apartment is one in a very crowded building. That’s why I was surprised when I was alone on the elevator. That’s happened.... actually, it’s happened a lot. Just coincidence, right? Come on, Brie. You know this is stupid. No ones going to hurt you.

I am always relieved to sink into my sofa. It’s not real leather, it’s not super cool and expensive, but it’s comfy. That’s all I need in furniture. Comfort.

I can’t sleep. I can usually fall asleep instantly after coming home from work, but something in my head... something seems off. It’s right there, in the top of my brain.

WAIT!!!!

My couch isn’t usually facing the window, is it? It’s usually turned away from it, in fact. Who moved it? And why? I’m on the seventh floor, and I overlook the parking lot. No other buildings. I think I hear something——

It is cold. Very cold. I open my eyes. I’m lying— no, not lying, tied up— on a floor. Where am I?

“Hello, dearest,” says a female voice. “I’ve been waiting for the moment where you could finally meet me.”

“Who are you?”

“Ariel. You’ll enjoy this, I promise.” Ariel looms over me and I realize I am naked.

“Hey, wait a sec—” Ariel traces a fake nail along my face, and then down my whole body. It stings, and I realize that it’s drawing blood. I suddenly am paralyzed as she draws lines of blood everywhere on me. Ariel moans.

“I’ve dreamed about this for a long time,” she says. “Dreamed of your face twisting in agony. Your pain turns me on, see?”

“You’re sick,” I groan.

“Why thank you, dearest.” Another nail dug into me, harder. I screamed, to the sound of her laughter.

“Oh, this is so much more fun than I ever imagined!” she shrieks.

Please make this end, I want to scream, please kill me, please make it all end.....

Now she has a knife, and she’s digging it deep into my stomach. She twists it and I scream. She twists the knife so that it takes out a rope of intestines.

“This is even more fun than I dreamed it’d be,” she whispers, and then slides the guts along my chest. “And the best is yet to come.”

I scream.

Megan didn’t have real friends, never mind a boyfriend or a date to the St. Valentine’s Day dance at school. Tonight, everyone was celebrating love with candy and flowers – even her parents, and probably kissing, she made a face; but she, like every other night, would sit at her computer playing games. Even so, she felt a little thrill of excitement as she sat down at her desk and typed in the password on her computer.

For a few weeks now, she’d been chatting with someone she had met in various gaming rooms online. At first, she thought it was weird that he, she assumed it was a he, kept showing up in whatever game she was playing, but then she started looking forward to seeing the familiar skull and bones icon pop up no matter what game she was playing. It was almost like having a friend. He seemed to want to be with her, even if it was only virtual reality. He would give her hints about how to get higher scores, or ask her how her day was and actually respond with more than, “that’s nice” or “I’m sorry.” She had started looking forward to the secret moments with SB, as she called him.

Megan stared at the computer, a little shocked, a little excited. Her normal home screen had been replaced by a black screen; in the center was a blood red heart laying on top of a white skull and bones. In the middle of the heart, in black letters it said Be My Valentine. Below the heart to the right was a button that said, “Let’s Play.” She hesitated a breath, giggled, and then placed the arrow over the button and clicked. Suddenly the screen turned a murky, swirling charcoal and gray and a hand began to emerge, covered with a shiny substance…as if the screen had melted and conformed to the new shape. Megan looked surprised but not afraid when it touched her hand. A gentle caress. But when she looked from the hand to the molten screen, a face began to form and, as terror struck, the hand reached up to cover her mouth and stifle her scream.

Sunday February 10th, 2019

I implore you to have pity on Adeline Crane. The 87-year old retired office assistant had developed debilitating bilateral cataracts that not only blurred her vision but made her eyes rather sensitive to glare and intense light. For this reason, she kept her home low lit with heavy antique burgundy drapes always drawn. She was, and forever had been, ideal.

I try to be silent when she enters the house today. With the gentle creak of her shoes tapping against floorboard, I lull into their metronomic thrum. She ruefully whispers to herself as her cane clatters into the umbrella stand. I could not help but release a sharp wince.

Her gaze darts to the kitchen. Feeling her way through the oak-laden cavern of this cave of a home, she manages to find her hand on the handle to the aperture above the sink and feebly tugs it shut.

I catch a glimpse of her shuddering. I sway behind her and gently pull the knitted shawl over her shoulders a little tighter.

Wednesday February 13th, 2019

Once a month, Adeline’s daughters forge an effort to pack up and stop by the home for lunch. This week, Emily Crane-Williams is the only family able to make the pilgrimage.

She arrives at half past one, announced by the softest of knocks. Atop an engorged belly rests a striking white vase. She mentions that she has brought grandpa’s ashes, as the vase settles amidst the dust atop the fireplace. Gold lettering lines the bottom of the vase, I stand to read it: “Now and Forever. Addie and Alfie.”

Addie. I whisper, enjoying the sound traveling through my lips.

Thursday February 14th, 2019

I watch as Adeline sits at the dimmed dining room table. Today, she has a series of photographs splayed across the table. Polaroids of a life I had never seen.

She stared blankly over them, as if trying to focus with her failing sight. I looked over the photos she had. Addie and Alfie Wedding, 1953. Alfie and the Girls, 1968. Then I see it. Addie is dressed in a black satin night dress and she is smiling.

There are a pair of men’s shoes in the corner. Shoes I had never seen. I groaned as her hand absentmindedly lingered over this photo. Addie, 1955. I swipe my hand over the table, knocking away the photographs.

“Who’s there?” Her voice is shaken, eyes darting around the barren kitchen, “I will call the police!”

Adeline. How much of you did you hide from me -- I mean, Alfred? Who knew about this? Her palm pressed against the table as a gasp escaped her lips.

She was fragile when she fell, the thrum of her heart fluttering as she wheezed. The final photograph fluttered onto her chest as she laid on the floor.

Adeline Ann Crane, aged 87, departed this Earth on Valentines’ Day 2019. Loving mother and survived by numerous grandchildren. She will join her husband Alfred Crane.

From the womb, visceral, screaming, pale bodied and blue eyed. Untouched, unbroken. Born into the power of the North wind, swilling with destiny. The child saw with clarity what others did not, a soul of earth and fire, she laughed with the shadows. She danced with the shadows. Not shadows, but a child, blonde and wise. Moonlight streaming through the window, on the child of death. Where has he gone mother, every morning she pleaded. My only friend, where has he gone. I am all alone when the sun is up, he only comes to me at night. From the wardrobe in the corner he crawls, into the gold and blue room. The mother recoiled, her child, a monster, a witch. Witch of death. Like her father, he too saw the child. A giggling shadow in the night. The sound of cartweels on rooftops. I died in fire, in coal, in neglect. I am a saviour, I am a lover. Witch. Another living child enters the house, a boy, death hung over his dreams. Vomit and pus and seizing. The frantic phantom doth summon the father, the father followed the shadow, a running child, into the room where his only son lay dying. Saviour. His victory given to God. God, fuck God. Witch. Chessboard tiles, angel delight, the mischief of cupid. Her heart would forever belong to the otherside. Leaping over garden walls to frolic with the living. Tears and tears and tears. Onto tights, and skirts and jumpers. Hatred, such violent cursed hatred, hatred from the living, against a child. Child of the veil. Reaching out, reaching out to the mother. Vulnerability rewarded with violence and screaming. Liar. Witch. Liar. Black cat, stuck in a loop. Appearing, disappearing, appearing, disappearing.

For Madeliene Finch she felt this Valentine’s Day was going to be one she remembered. At just 22 she hadn’t experienced the holiday like some. She’d never been given flowers or chocolates. She hadn’t ever met someone special to enjoy it with, until now.

She had just moved to a new town and started working at the coffee shop. With so many new people coming in it gave her many opportunities to meet someone new, but she also loved those familiar faces that appeared so often, especially that of Lewis Knight.

Lewis was the reason she was looking forward to Valentine’s Day. Since meeting on just the second day of her new job they spent a lot of time together. He would come in in the mornings, and at night they would spend hours talking at his place.

When Valentine’s Day came she was ecstatic at the flowers waiting for her when she arrived at work. She couldn’t wait to get them back to her apartment and let them light up the tiny room.

Around ten she made her way up the stairs, holding tight to the bouquet. Her mind was on where she put the vase her mother gave her, and the frustration of her overstuffed purse hiding her key that she didn’t notice the box of chocolates setting in front of her door, until she tripped over them.

She unlocked her door, pushing it open, and then grabbed the box. She walked into her apartment and laid the flowers and her purse down, then opened the note attached to the box.

Madeliene,

A treat for a girl so sweet

Soft and warm as your chocolate locks

Filled with cherry red as your lips

Held in a heart shaped box

She smiled thinking how sweet Lewis was, first the flowers and now chocolates. She sent him a quick text thanking him, but when he replied telling her it wasn’t from him it dawned on her. Lewis had never been to her apartment. Sure he knew which building it was, but she had never told him which apartment she lived in.

She thought maybe her mother, but she would never write a poem like that. No, that was more romantic; flirtatious even.

She walked over to the window to shut the curtains. She noticed someone down below leaned against a tree. Through the dark it was hard to be certain, but it looked like he was looking up at her. She closed the curtains and made her way towards the back.

She turned on the hall light and on the floor were rose petals. She followed them into her room; lit with a candle on each nightstand. Petals covered the bed and on her pillow a note.

You’re so beautiful when you sleep.

She turned, her bedroom window open to the apartment across the street.

She rushed back opening the curtains, but he wasn't there.

Then from the open door in a voice she didn’t recognize she heard, “Hello, Madeliene.”