The Legend of The Pit

"What's this?" Valentine asked, interrupting Mark's thoughts. His crooked finger pointed towards a greeting card in the box. His yellow fingernail was long and dirty.

"A Christmas card she gave me last year." Mark explained.

Valentine nodded, his head moving left to right as he surveyed the contents of the box.

"And this box at the bottom? What is this?"

Valentine inched his hand inside the box, gauging Mark's reaction.

"May I?" Valentine asked in a soft voice.

Once Mark nodded Valentine brought the small blue box up to his lap.

"And what are these?" he asked Mark, examining the box in his hands.

"Scented candles she gave me for my birthday." Mark explained.

"May I?" Valentine asked, his long dirty fingernail moving towards the upper flap of the box.

"Go ahead." Mark said with a smile.

Mark watched as Valentine pried the box open. He tilted it so one of the mauve candles fell into his hand. He brought it up towards his nose. As Valentine closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the candle a look of perfect contentment came over his cragged face. When he opened his blue eyes they appeared to have a glimmer that was not there before.

"What a wonderful scent," Valentine exclaimed as he cupped the candle in his hands, as if it were as fragile as a robin's egg "it reminds me of summer. How I miss summer."

Mark was amazed by the amount of joy that the candle gave the old man sitting beside him. Denise had given him those candles nearly six months ago and up until he had tossed them into the cardboard box they had remained at the bottom of a drawer of his bureau, along with socks and underwear. He felt guilty.

"You can have them if you want." Mark said.

Valentine lowered the candle from his face as he gave Mark a wide-eyed smile. Mark was amazed by how happy his offer seemed to have made the old man.

"Are you sure? You were going to throw these into The Pit."

"I'm sure," Mark assured him "they make you happier than they ever made me. No sense in throwing them away."

"Thank-you very much, Mark." Valentine said, placing the box of candles on the ground to his right.

Valentine leaned towards the box once more, his eyes roaming over it's contents.

"Is this Denise?" he asked, pointing towards the edge of a photograph sticking out from between letters and other objects.

"Yes." Mark plucked the photograph from the box and handed it to Valentine.

"She's very pretty." Valentine remarked, squinting as he turned the picture towards the fire.

"Yes, she is." Mark agreed with a nod.

"And this... what is this?" Valentine asked, gesturing towards a neatly folded letter bound by a red ribbon.

"A letter she wrote me last year."

"May I read it?" Valentine asked.

"I don't know... it's kind of personal." Mark demurred with a shrug.

Valentine gave Mark a knowing smile "Yes," he said in almost a whisper "everything in this box is. I'm just trying to get a better understanding of how much you love Denise and how much she loves you."

"Loved me." Mark corrected, sounding bitter as he sneered.

Valentine sighed as he shook his head. "No, Mark... she loves you. What's in this box proves it."

Mark shrugged, not wanting to get into a debate with Valentine.

"Let me demonstrate..." Valentine exclaimed.

As Mark watched, puzzled, Valentine picked up the box of candles beside him. He opened the box, tilting it so a candle slid out into his dirty palm. Holding the candle in his fingers Valentine raised it above his head, then released it from his grasp. It fell to the ground and rolled towards the fire.

"Why did the candle fall?" Valentine asked.

"Gravity." Mark answered, sounding annoyed.

"So, you believe in gravity then?" Valentine countered, cocking his left eyebrows up. He picked the candle up from the ground and brought it up to his nose, closing his eyes as he drew in a deep breath.

"Of course I believe in gravity," Mark snapped "Newton proved that it exists in the seventeenth century. What's your point, Valentine?"

Valentine opened his eyes, lowering the candle to his lap.

"But you don't have a photograph of gravity in that box, do you? You can't see, hear, or taste gravity. Still, you know that it exists by the affect it has on objects. It's the same way with love, Mark. I know that Denise loves you, just as you love her, by what that box contains."

Mark reflected on Valentine's words for a while before replying. "If she loves me, then why isn't she with me tonight?"

"Why aren't you with her?" Valentine countered with a glare.

Mark's lips tightened as he avoided Valentine's questioning eyes. It wasn't that he wanted to avoid arguing with the old man, but because he had no satisfactory answer. There had been many times when he had reached for the phone, intending to call Denise, but stopped out of pride or stubbornness. Mark felt his body go limp as he leaned back against the knoll behind him as Valentine's eyes followed him.

"When something dies it leaves behind a foul odor," Valentine continued "that's what you smelled when you stood by The Pit. The death of love."

Mark looked up, giving Valentine a puzzled look.

"Don't let love die, Mark." he urged.

Mark nodded, pretending to understand.

"Will you show me more of what's in the box, please?" Valentine asked.

Mark gave his newfound friend a nod as he sat upright. He reached into the box and unfolded the letter tied with a red ribbon, then handed it to Valentine. Mark watched as the old man's expression changed to happiness as he read what Denise had written.

One by one Mark brought out the contents of the box to show Valentine. He handed them to the old man to read, pleased by how happy Valentine seemed as he read the cards and letters and gazed at the photographs. The night passed quickly it seemed.

Before Mark realized it the black sky had turned to sapphire. The moon and stars had vanished and Mark knew that the sun would be coming up soon. It was no longer Valentine's Day. He had to be at work in a few hours. The fire beside them was beginning to die. All that remained were glowing embers and coals from the wood that had been burning.

"I should to be going, Valentine. I have to be at work in a few hours."

Valentine nodded, dropping a photograph of Mark and Denise into the box. He tilted his head up and smiled.

Mark folded the box closed and stood up, clutching it in his hands.

"Thank you for your company, Mark," Valentine told him "I haven't spent such a wonderful night in a year."

"No need to thank me. I enjoyed it as much as you. You gave me a lot to think about." Mark told him.

"Before you go, Mark, there's something I want you to have." he said.

Valentine reached for the gold chain around his neck. He pulled it over his head and extended his hand towards Mark.

"Please, take this locket, Mark." he said as the gold trinket swayed at the end of the chain.

"No... thank-you, Valentine, but I couldn't." Mark replied with a brusk shake of his head.

Valentine took Mark's hand in his and dropped the locket into his palm. He pressed on Mark's fingers, curling them closed.

"I want you to," he insisted, clutching Mark's fist "you gave me the candles -- it's more than fair. Wait until you get back to your car before you open it in case you drop what's inside."

"Okay," Mark stammered "thank-you very much, Valentine. Take care of yourself."

"I will." Valentine promised, "you take care of Denise." He watched as Mark hurried away.

The sun was rising over the horizon as Mark saw his car in the distance. He smiled. Then it occurred to him that he should offer Valentine a ride back home, or to wherever he was going. He turned around and sprinted back towards where he and Valentine had been sitting.

"Valentine," Mark called out "hey... can I give you a drive home?"

Mark rounded the corner behind the line of pine trees where he had left Valentine. He stopped, looking bewildered. His jaw went slack. Within the circle of rocks where the glowing embers of the fire had been minutes before there were now cold dead ashes and charred wood. Mark turned left and right, searching about.

"Valentine?" His voice echoed, but there was no reply.

Mark heard nor saw nothing. He listened for Valentine's voice as he stood in the silent woods. He gave his head a perplexed shake, then turned around and began to make his way back to his car.

Mark tossed the cardboard box onto the passenger side of the seat and pulled the car door closed. He as glad to be back in his car -- at least it was slightly warmer. He started the engine and turned the heater up as high as it would go, smiling as the blast of warm air hit him. He reached into his right jacket pocket and felt the locket that Valentine had given him. It dangled from the gold chain as Mark held it up, examining it closer.

Now that he was able to inspect it closely in the light Mark discovered that the locket was shaped like the left half of a heart -- as if someone had snapped it in two, leaving a jagged edge that ran down along the right edge. With his thumb nail Mark carefully pried the locket open. A small folded piece of paper fell out onto Mark's right thigh. He picked it up and unfolded it, bringing it closer to his face so he could read it. Written in blue ink was a note.

I love you with all my heart, Mark. Meet me back at the house.

all my love,

Denise

Mark stared in disbelief. The handwriting definitely belonged to Denise. It matched that on the cards and letters in the box that she had written perfectly. He read the note again.

"What the hell?" Mark muttered to himself as the pushed the open locket and note in the pocket of his jacket. He started his car and turned it around.

As Mark sped back towards town the sun shone in his eyes. He glanced down at the clock on the dashboard of the car then pressed harder on the accelerator.

Chapter 4

Mark pushed the door to his house open wide and marched inside. He dropped the cardboard box on the kitchen table and walked into the livingroom. He could hear the sound of his television, but was surprised because he had not turned it on before he had left. As he rounded the corner he discovered Denise, asleep on the couch. Her brown hair was covering the side of her face and she was curled up like a cat. When she heard him approach she raised her head, pushing her hair aside.

"Hi." she mumbled, smiling as she looked up through half-closed eyes.

"Hi..." Mark mumbled, shocked at discovering his ex-girlfriend sleeping on his couch.

Denise sat up, brushing her long brown hair over her shoulders. She wiped the corner of her mouth, then looked up, smiling.

"I still have a key, so I let myself in," she explained "I'll give it back before I go."

"No, that's okay, Mark spat out "what are you doing here?" He found that his voice sounded abrupt and he smiled, attempting to comfort her.

"I had this horrible dream, Mark," she began, then tilted her head to the left "well, more like weird, I guess... I dreamt that I saw this filthy old man with long grey hair. He was wearing a blue short and jacket and jeans. He looked like a homeless person. He told me to meet you here. It was so vivid that I couldn't just ignore it."

"Oh..." Mark grunted, now intrigued.

"But that's not all -- here's the weird part." Denise continued. She reached for her purse on the coffee table. Reaching inside she slowly pulled out a gold chain. Swaying at the end of the chain was an open gold locket.

Mark stepped closer, his eyes growing wide as his jaw fell. He reached out towards the locket, taking it in his palm. Once he closed it Mark discovered that it was the matching half to the one Valentine had given him, complete with a jagged left edge. Together, they made a complete heart shape.

"I found this inside." Denise said, picking up a piece of paper on the coffee table. She reached out for Mark's extended hand.

Mark was hardly surprised when he read the note in handwriting that matched his.

I love you with all my heart. Meet me at the house.

love,

Mark

Mark looked up at Denise as he held the scrap of paper in his trembling fingers.

"I was so scared when I was coming over," Denise said, her voice shaky "I was frightened that something had happened to you -- then I was scared even more scared that you weren't alone." She tilted her head down, avoiding his wide eyes.

Mark slumped down on the couch beside Denise. "I love you." he said, his eyes meeting hers.

"I love you too, Mark." she gushed, throwing her arms around his shoulders. She pulled him tight as tears began to stream down her soft cheeks.

Epilogue

A week after Mark and Denise returned from their honeymoon in The Dominican Republic they arranged an appointment with the man who had photographed their wedding so they could see the photos he had taken. Both of them were very eager to see how the pictures had turned out.

"So, here are your photographs." John Sedgewick told the newlyweds, sliding a large manila envelope across the coffee table.

Mark tore the envelope open. He began flipping through the stack of photographs as Denise glanced over his shoulder. Soon his mouth widened and his arms went limp. He pushed a photograph towards his wife.

"That's the man in my dream!" Denise exclaimed.

"You mean the old guy in the dirty clothes?" John Sedgewick asked.

Denise and Mark looked up at the photographer, nodding in unison.

"I thought he must be a relative -- maybe an uncle of either one of you," John suggested "he's in almost all of the pictures, but I don't remember seeing him there. I mean, I would have noticed him, considering how he's dressed." He blushed, realizing he might have offended Mark or Denise.

Mark continued looking through the photographs as Denise leaned over his shoulder, awestruck. In nearly every photograph, whether it was at the church or the reception, Valentine could be seen standing beside Mark and Denise.

Mark and Denise turned towards one-another, smiling in wonder.

"So, is he an uncle or grandfather of either one of you?" John prodded. His eyebrows raised and his eyes grew curious.

Denise looked up towards John Sedgewick. She let her hand fall to her lap as she held a photograph. She cleared her throat.

"He's our guardian angel." she said.