(Feb '16) Prompt #3 - Red

[Naraness]

The third and final prompt of February is the word "Red"



If you have any questions about how to participate in this event,
please visit the rules (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=77770) thread or PM Naraness (http://role-player.net/forum/member.php?u=24919).

Happy writing!

[Mysteria]

hmmm, I'm logged in and trying to access the rules thread you have linked, but it wont let me?

[Kris]

Thanks Mysti. Rules been edited!

[Kicks]

A tender hand caressed the side of your bare cheek. Blood simmered beneath your skin, streaming its way to meet the touch of the suitor. Its path laid out for it, grappling along veins and arteries like a maze to be defeated by whispers. And a soft kiss laid upon your lush lips, promising more to come with time. Promising a sweet farewell but joyful return come the night.

A hand lingering along the small of your back for a brief moment... then vanishing just as quick into the night as the kiss. The ghost of the hand left a tingling sensation along the skin of your back. Your boiling blood urged for the touch to come back. But away into the night, soaring with a taxi down the street, did the suitor and his touch go.

So you retire to your room. Up the drifting stairs of the apartments. Along the cracked and plastered walls. Down the narrow hall and to a metal door pleading for a cleaning. The key you produced slid perfectly into its socket. A satisfying clinking filled your ears with pleasure.

A cold gust greeted you as you stepped in from the heated moment, leaving behind the yearning for touch and gratification and welcoming in solitary and independence.

The clank of your door behind you. The sound of the bolt sliding place. The rusty movement of the lock turning. And then the heavenly smell of leftovers being microwaved.

Had you not been so neurotic at dinner that night, you would not be famished now. But the suitor was handsome, well met for this world and the next. Had he come down to bless you from the heavens? Or was he a demon summoned from the pits of hell? Something too good, too devilishly sweet could only be the work of the devil.

And yet you could still relish his lips on yours. It left a brief imprint that would be gone when morning came. Soon it would return come the next night, shepherded in by his all-consuming presence. You could already smell his cologne, gently licking the nape of his neck and hemline. You could feel the silk roughness of his skin. The strength of his hands, pushing around your body into a warm embrace.

You open your eyes now, the beeping of the microwave disturbing your dream. You slid the hot plate out from the cavern of the microwave. Its gentle light lit up your food, taunting you with sight alone. You close the door of the microwave and meet the table with your plate. A hand scoops up the fork you set out for yourself, and digs into the food with deep craving that could not be dampened by food alone.

Each bite was tantalizingly slow. Each release of breath garnishing only more longing... more desperation. A simple call could fix all your problems. A plea for the taxi to turn back around. Had you made a mistake by not offering him up into your hearth? Or had you been a smart woman to let him leave you with a kiss? Wanting more... so much more...

The sink became filled with hot water as you advised yourself to think about something other than his touch... his stroke... the gentle of his voice as he whispered 'goodnight' into your ear.

Hands washed at the dirtied plate, at the spoiled fork... at the remaining dishes from this rushed morning. Shaking hands held together only by will loaded the plates into the half-empty dishwasher. To still your mind you turn the dishwasher on and listen to the gentle whurring.

Nothing could silence the animalistic craving coming from within your very soul. Yes, you decide, it had been a mistake not to invite him up into your sacred place. You should have used the moment to your wholesome advantage. He would have come along, you were sure of it.

Your wet hands dry themselves on a dish towel quickly. Barely dry and shaking with determination and need, you dial his number. He picks up after only the second ring. His voice is hushed, rushed, and demanding your full attention. You urge him to come over, insist that you simply cannot spend the night alone. He agrees hurriedly, promising he will be there soon. The click of the phone and you put it back in place.

You ready yourself. He will be there within minutes. You had to prepare yourself for him, get ready. Your apartment was clean and inviting, well lit to set the mood. It smelled of honey in your home. You fuss over how it smells, how clean it is, how the lights are until you hear it. The buzz. You call him up and he is at the door within seconds, breathless, desiring only you.

You close the door behind you, locking it before you turn to him. Already his hands are on you, claiming every inch of your skin with the veneer of his gloved hands. You take your time, savoring the satisfaction you took from every touch.

Your hands reach for his shirt. In a spurred fashion you rid him of it. It is your hands covering his chest that kept it hidden from the rest of the world. Your lips on his neck that kept it protected from the cold. The soft of his skin pressed up against your mouth. You were ready. You wanted this more than anything. The craving came from deep within you, demanding your full attention and taking you for what it was.

You sink your fangs into his neck. There is no scream from him. It is quick, it is efficient. Within seconds his life is drained from him as it fills you to the very core. You take the red essence of him into your mouth. Each gulp is another reminder of what you are, what you crave, what you absolutely desire and need.

And with that reminder is the acceptance that comes with it.

[~N~]

A man and a vampire walk into a bar...

Very old joke.

She moved with the hypnotic grace of a lioness, her sheer black dress accentuating every single curve of a body that she cared for quite meticulously. Her sensual movements concealed a certain... trepidation... seamlessly beneath her aura of ageless beauty. She could be five-hundred years old or twenty behind those blood-drenched lips but who's really counting.

There were dozens of other women there that could have competed for my attention, each with fashionable glittering jewelry, ranging from tasteful and classy to gaudy and desperate for attention. For her part, she adorned herself with a simple silver teardrop pendent that clutched a shimmering ruby, and a couple rings to match. None of them captivated me as much as her eyes, however.

Sparkling with iridescent veins of gold growing within wild emerald spheres that glowed with animalistic desire, they could not be ignored. When I fell into their eternal gaze, I felt like I had slipped, plunging into depthless sea that saw the molten beginnings of this world, and I was transfixed.

Hypnotic beauty, a thousand-year-long gaze, and lashes that disclosed no secrets, promising only deeper, darker pleasures than any man in this place had ever imagined; she had my attention. Her smile, tugging seductively upwards at the ends of her crimson painted lips informed me that I had hers. The tongue that traced its subtle passage over her parted lips, peaking out just enough for me to capture a glimpse of it spoke of a hunger roused from deep within her, where her stomach no doubt tightened in anticipation.

I might have waited a thousand years for a woman like her.

A vampire and a man...?

I couldn't tell you what the conversation was about now. The impact she had on me was overwhelming, and it had been forever since I felt quite so swept under a woman's spell. I let myself go, let myself slide deeper and deeper into her embrace, even as I pulled her into mine. Her breath on my skin was a tantalizing tease that her softly smiling lips followed up upon.

There were glimmers, moments where those plush lips turned down, as though she didn't know what to make of me. Despite my best intentions, I felt her pulling at my wrapping, curious to get know me better, even apprehensive about what she might find.

What could make a woman like her apprehensive?

We said our goodbyes. Goodbye, goodbye, parting is such sweet sorrow... that we should say goodbye until it be....

My phone rang. Her number came up. I hadn't even gotten ten minutes away before I told the taxi to turn the fuck around. Now.

I barely even registered the ascending stairs before my finger hit the doorbell and she welcomed me in...

... to her home, smelling like delicious, sinfully sweet honey...

... to her embrace, enveloping me with pressing, needful passion...

... to her kiss, striking like a seductive cobra after putting its glossy hood on full display.

It's like a trap snapping shut on your life, when a snake bites you. Instantaneous. The poison is in you before you even realize you've been bit. Just like her. How appropos for a woman who truly wants to make a meal of you.

The vacuum people at Dyson would be envious of the suction on those luscious lips, and her technique was absolutely flawless. Blood banks, eat your heart out; this vampire could drain an entire year's supply in under a minute with the way she did me.

Sexy enough to make any man give every last drop he had without a moment's hesitation.

People are shameless fans of certain couplings.

Freddy vs. Jason. Alien vs. Predator. Bear vs dogs. Hell, FX and other stations have made a fair amount of profits putting together ridiculous matchups like Vince McMahon has done with the WWE. Nobody admits they watch these things, but they do. Godzilla vs... whatever.

Vampire...


...versus...


... Demon.

They never see it coming. I held on to her as the life was drained right out of my fingers, and she indulged like a starving she-wolf. Didn't miss a single drop.

And when she finished? She gave those lips a slow, savoring slide of her tongue to make sure she left no trace. Cleaned up and swallowed every last bit.

Good girl. What a classy chick.

It's not the same with a vampire. They have no real soul to speak of, so it's more like putting on a nice new set of clothes that are tailored just right, without all the struggle of forcing down and overcoming some kind of screaming, hopeless ghost.

When those long lashes parted once more, reopening those mysterious, hypnotic eyes to the world, her lips turned up with all the immeasurable joy I could feel rising up within me.

Normal people tend to decay after a while. Their bodies get all banged up and after a few head twistings, they go all to pieces. It's a shame, especially when you find a nice one.

But vampires? They last so much longer.

As I slid my hands slowly up my curvacious, tight body, newly warm from her latest meal, I could not help but spread those blood red lips even further, revealing my pearly white fangs to the heavens. I passed my tongue slowly over them, carefully feeling every sharp edge, every smooth surface with slow pleasure.

Is it still drag if I don't have a corporeal body of my own? Sauntering over to avail myself of one of her fashionable coats, I went to check myself out in the mirror...

... oh right.

Well, I would just have to use the wandering eyes of the city to keep me appraised of my appearance. After all, the night was still young.

Opening up the front door once more, I stepped out under the stars and started humming a familiar tune (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBecM3CQVD8)into the brisk evening air.

A vampire and a demon walk into a bar...

[NnightStalker]

"Twenty seven, that's how many reds there are." Reds, the term for a person turned evil, murderers, thieves, the whole bunch of them. It was surprise that even in a place here, they would exist. He looked to the group of people behind him, there was four of them. They had paid him to take them on a road from one city to another. Normally he never worked as a caravan guard, however he was taking a break from being on the front lines of the war. The war, what a sad thing, in a world of peace, a city on the other side of the continent fell sick to a plague. From it the city's inhabitants turned into these monsters. They had the ability to spread to anyone they touched as well. These monsters quickly waged war on all that was living, spreading from city to city, port to port, farm to farm. When the three major races of the world, finally noticed the war they were majorly pushed back to the other side of the continent, with only a few cities left. It was then that they came together to form an alliance, and a battle team known as the assault squad, and the defense squad. Those two squads were responsible for the war. The assault squad was responsible for the attacking the monsters and pushing them back. When they capture land, farms, mines, cities, and anything else, it was the defense squads job to defend it and hold it. Just in case anything managed to get past the assault squad. Most of the alliance was part of the defense squad due to the vast amount of land there were responsible for protecting. Where is, the assault squad was made of only about fifty soldiers. He, well his name was Rylouth. Rylouth was one of those fifty. It was rare to see an assault member away from the front lines. However he needed a break. A vacation so to speak, some time away to see, to remember what it is that he was fighting every day for. After all on the front lines, it was dangerous, one wrong move and you were dead. Not only would you be dead, but you would become one of the monsters, still aware of what you're doing, being forced to stick through it. He shook his head and looked at the enemies that were in front of him. Twenty seven, reds. They had know what of knowing who he was, hell even the people he was guarding had no way of knowing who he was. There was one girl in the group, she was suspicious of him, he could tell. She knew there was something wrong about him. Probably his gear. Most had no idea who the assault people were, only that they all got the best armor and weapons ever made in this world, to most these people were above legends and heroes, they were something from another world. They had been fighting for a few years now and people were starting to forget that those in the assault were real people. Most were starting to think that they were created by the gods to fight the sickness. However this women was onto him somehow. He didn't know how for he had never met her before. He looked back from the group to the enemies. They were in armor and had their weapons ready. Rylouth only sighed, for they had picked the wrong target to attack today. He pulled out his sword, and gave it a twirl in his hand. As it did so the swords blade came into full sight, it was made out of a rare metal, and the reds in front of him could see that. The blade was that have a one handed longsword. It was made of black steel and a blue sort of crystal. Together they came together for one of the strongest swords ever made, even in the assault squad there was no sword as strong as his. He walked forward toward the reds and as he did, he undid the cloak that was hiding over his armor. As the cloak fell the ground it was then that this armor was shown, and with his armor being seeing both the group behind him and the reds in front of him recognized the armor. It was made of the same material as that of his sword, a black steel with blue crystals smelted into it. One of a kind armor, one of a kind sword. The only pair of this exact material to exist. The group behind him whispered about how he was with the assault squad and so did the reds in front of him. However as they stood there it looked like they steeled their nerves. "I'll give you a chance, run or die." Was all he said with a smile as he held his sword in his right hand. One of them did a charge at him. What an idiot the red was. He simply sidestepped and stuck his sword out so that the red charged right into the blade. As the blade pierced the red, his body exploded into dust. Death, when someone died their body turned into dust. Most of the time the dust was returned to the ground and went to feed the world. However if a person was infected by the sickness their body didn't turn into dust. It would stay in it's body form until exactly twenty four hours later. After that it transforms into a monster. He hadn't seem dust in such a long time. Apparently neither had the reds really. These reds must pureply be in the business of stealing instead of killing. He almost felt bad for them, but at the same time it was only an almost feeling. "One of you are dead. Even if all of you try to fight me at the same time you will die just like your friend here. I have fight things that are hundreds of times more dangerous than you, every day. Do you really think you can win here. Leave, this is your last chance." This time they didn't have to whisper. They all turned tail and ran. He sighed and gave a twirl of his sword before placing it back into the sheath that was on hi

[Griff]

Jamie’s eyes opened slowly, the side of her bed and dresser fade from being blurry to semi-clear. Grumbling, she began to push herself up, awkwardly wiping off the drool piling on her arm. Pushing the hair off her face, she sat up and wiped her face, clearing the gunk out of her eyes. Looking at the small neon clock flashing near her, she noted the time and stood up, intending to be presentable.

Shambling in front of the mirror, Jamie flattened her hair, combing through it with her hands. Turning around to her closet, she took off the wrinkled clothes she slept in and instead pulled on a slightly small red polo shirt. Adjusting her lopsided bra, she pulled on a decent pair of dark blue pants and walked out of her room.

Jamie stopped in front of the bathroom and quickly brushed her teeth and washed her face. Pulling up her lifeless flat hair into a bun, and grabbed the foundation on the counter, and applied a thin layer to her face. She stepped out and walked into the kitchen in the next room.

Stepping onto the cold linoleum tile, Jamie suppressed the involuntary shivers that passed through her as she went to the fridge next to her microwave and grabbed the carton of eggs out of her fridge, conveniently hidden behind the carton of milk.

Yawning, she turned around and set the eggs on the counter, and bent down to grab a bowl and a whisk. Opening the half-empty carton, she grabbed two large white eggs and cracked them on the side of the bowl, trying desperately to avoid getting goo on her and keeping the shell pieces out of the plastic dish. Failing, she rushed to grab a paper towel and wipe up the little bit of egg that fell off the side of the bowl and got on the counter. Throwing away the egg shell, she grabbed the whisk and beat the eggs together. Quickly remembering, she turned around and added a dash of milk to her egg mixture.

She put away the eggs and milk, then whisked it together a bit more. Jamie dropped the whisk into the sink and turned around to add a dash of salt and pepper to the mix. Setting the bowl down, she reached down and grabbed a small black skillet out of the cabinet by her feet. She placed it on the stove and turned it on, then she went to grab a small amount of butter out of her fridge and placed it on the skillet.

After seeing the butter melt, she put the egg mix on the skillet, and pulled the eggs across the skillet gently, waiting for all of the soft parts to harden. When it did, she turned off the stove, and scooped the egg onto a plate, and put the rest of the utensils in the sink.

Placing the eggs on the table, Jamie went to the fridge and grabbed some watermelon--it was the only fruit in season--and cut some slices--the red juice pouring all over the bowl that she put it in.

Setting the sticky watermelon on the table she went to clean the red fruit juice off of her hands, and then called out, “Molly! Breakfast!”
The stomps of tiny feet could be heard throughout the tiny house as a person entered the room. She was a young girl, with half-brushed curly blonde hair, and was half dressed, pulling on a red blouse as she ran in.

Chiding the girl, Molly, Jamie scolded, “I told you to be ready by 7, hurry, your breakfast will get cold.”

Molly ran up to the table and ate as fast as she could, gobbling down the eggs and watermelon in under 5 minutes.

“Slow down.”

A muffled sound of disdain was all Jaime got in reply.

After she finished eating, Molly ran up from the table and threw on her shoes, tying them as fast as she could. She stood up and was abruptly grabbed by her mother who proceeded to untangle more of her long curly blonde hair. Struggling, Molly pushed herself away and went to grab the rest of her stuff. Picking up her ladybug backpack and her red lunchbox, she grabbed her mother’s hand and started to drag her out the door.

“Hey, hey. Slow down, stop pulling!” Jamie sighed.

“No, we’re going to be late!” Molly replied while she and her mother stepped out of the house and into the cold morning air. The brisk air chilled both of the girls’ faces, and they huddled for warmth as they walked down brick steps to the sidewalk.

Reaching the sidewalk they walked through the suburbs, passing frostbitten grass and steaming grates. They were on an uneven cracked sidewalk, and looking up they noticed other children being walked to school, everyone being a bit frozen.

They passed a small grey and brown puppy on the way, and Molly spent five minutes petting its ears and feeding it a bit of her lunch as it rolled around on its stomach, trying to get as much attention as possible.

Smiling softly, Jamie pulled Molly away from the puppy, urging her to go on, “Come on, we don’t want to be late again.”

Whining, Molly protested, but reluctantly agreed.

Waving goodbye to the puppy, Molly caught up with her mother. Turning the corner, you could see a little school, the grounds around it covered with kids running in. It was the size of a couple of houses, and brick red, with chalk drawing surrounding the outside.

Kneeling down, Jamie gave her daughter a hug and said, “Have a good day! Don’t forget to ask about that math test!”

Shrugging, she responded, “I won’t.” She started to run off into the school, but suddenly added, “Bye Mom!”

Molly walked into the school, ignoring the yells and fun of the kids around her. She walked into her off-white classroom and sat down, taking out her pencils and red pens. She heard the bell ring right after she sat down, which made her smirk. She actually made it for once.

This month is hard if you don't know how to write romance XD

[Kris]

He will sniff you from the crowd, to know if you are fitting. He will contact you only if he feels you are worthy and then he will break you down, as he will fit himself inside you, forcing up his way to your mind and drain you.

She is eagerly willing to sell you her body, just for love. And will cuddle you fondly, picking her nails inside of you, as she plans her next move, and you are not in her plots.

Modern age succubus and incubus never actually vanished with society awareness. They no longer live in myths and are in fact pretty updated with our world and economy. They lack the horns, but they have long nails to penetrate your mind and devoid you of the ability to need and want anything else.

They can appear in many shapes and sizes, top class manipulative people, that can swallow your energy and money, turning you to a stupid thrall that only wants to serve them. For praise. For the high opinions of you. To know that you are the right pick for them, only so they could continue to abuse you, making you believe the pain is a pleasure you are so willing to have. And they are drugging you to need it, to the point you lose yourself and think you can be nothing without them. That you are nothing without them.

They often give birth, and can be parents. Modern age demons that makes you live their dreams, so they will continue to preserve their twisted image in your head, making you feel shallow and hollow without their admiration. They want you to serve their need, but cares little for what you have to say or think.

And they build their ground so nicely, fertilize the land, so they can send their whips and long hands into your soul, only to absorb more and more, until you have nothing left but looking up to them.

Their smile, beautiful, their mind twisted. And you are still so much locked without knowing that your free will was taken long ago, even if you believe you still have a choice.

You don't. The fire caught on under your skin, and their burn. In your waking hours you will ponder on their action, and their image will surface in your dreams. If you hear them whispering about you with anger, if you will feel how the earth is losing touch under your feet.

Sadness taking over you when their will find new toy, and leaving you to wonder what you did wrong. They are so deep in your mind it's not even funny.

Do you love them? Maybe they making you feel like you do. But you still worship them, blaming you for everything they do, as if the self inflected pain is rightfully yours and you need only endure enough because you can change them.

Sometimes they hit. Physically abusing you. Forcing their might and anger. You did wrong and you shall pay. Coloring your vision with red, often in private, but maybe not, just to make you an example to their other dolls. And they are right, always right.

Modern age Imps, will not always hit, and not always force you into things you don't want to do, but they can still make you do it, by making you doubt... shaming you... or worse, making you feel sorry for them. Some of them appearing so weak sometimes, as if telling you to take pity. They need you to understand their pain. How they are having trouble making friends, how society wronged them, how others have banished them, and how you are the only one who can change them and make a difference in their life.

See... like twisted virus their effect your working cells just to eat your from within and hide in a working shell as they slowly work to change you from within. Because you are not good enough for them, not yet something they can use, be proud of. But of course, you have the potential to be what they need. You just need to find them for them... that is... you...

It's what you want no? To serve and plead for them, no?

Watch your body fury and suffering almost disappearing when their words are not bitter. The sweet admiration and praise... how long you wait for them between each lashing. Wag your tail at their every command. After all you are not special. There were before you, and there will be many others after you. You think you have recovered if you run away? They are always there, searching for you, even without needing to, they are just there, in your mind, as the process of them taking over you have already begun, when you sacrificed your everything for them. School, life, friends, wishes for the future...

Modern age succubus and incubus, never actually vanished with society awareness. They no longer have bat wings, but they do have cars and credit cards. They know how to dress and how to kill your wills, making you spread your legs and mind for the whims. And the more you play hard to get, the better for them. They love the exercise and the chase.

Like every predator, they need a good wild hunt, just to go and rub into your face and making you feel so grand in their honeymoon period, before they will start to make your tremble. They will shackle you, stop you from leaving,, singing in sweet voice filled with passion of how they need you, and how you are so great for them, and how much worthy you are in their eyes.

They will lie and hide behind masks, making you work twice for their mistakes and yours, making you fall from grace with them. and once they had their fill, like every good demon that absorb life force of a human being, they will clean themselves of the crimson red plump that is you, and head for their next target.

[m139]

Red

Snip. Snip. Snip.

The excess red construction paper fell into my lap, until what remained in my hands was a red heart. Well, sort of a red heart. As we all know, hearts do not actually look like the cutesy little shapes we make. And even if we did, well, I'm sure they would be much smoother than I could ever get with a pair of scissors.

But still, here I was cutting one out, imperfect as it was. When I had finished, I laid the heart, about three and a half inches at its widest point, in the pile beside me. Twenty down, and so many more to go.

I turned the red construction sheet of paper in my hand, and then continued on heart number twenty one.

I really do not why I started doing this, why I started cutting a heart for every person... but no matter. There were still so many more to go.

Snip, snip, snip. Snip, snip, snip. On and on I went until I had exhausted the whole entire back of red construction paper I had bought for this purpose. By this time, I had lost count of the numerous hearts I had cut out. Yet, even with some two hundred fifty pages cut into pieces, I knew it would not be enough. So then I started on the pink construction paper.

Snip, snip, snip. The hours went by, and the rectangular sheets of paper slowly turned into small little hearts. Soon, the dark blue carpet around me was almost unable to be seen through the ring of red and pink. And once the light purple hearts joined them, well, the ring of colors was definitely impenetrable.

As I stood up, and surveyed the small room around me, I felt quite pleased with myself. I had moved everything out of the room, and all that remained were the four white walls, the carpet, the ceiling light fixture, and now, of course, the little construction paper hearts in the ring on the floor. It was not finished yet, but at least I had finally began. I walked out of the room, and closed the door. The rest of the project would have to wait for another time.

It was another week before I could continue again. When I walked back in the room, things were as I had left them. Hearts on the floor, blank walls, blue carpet. I bent down and picked up one of the hearts. Then, I wrote my name on it. I picked up another one, and wrote my wife's name. Then, I picked up another, writing on it my father's, then another, writing on this one my mother's name. And then I wrote the names of everyone who had been there to see her at her birth, at least all those who I could remember.

Then I continued on. All the other important events. Her first preschool teacher, the kids in her class then. The people in her kinder dance class. Her piano teacher who still asked how she was doing even after we had moved away. Her old friends, her new friends. Parents of her friends, people we knew from church. The name of a random stranger she had spoken to when we were helping out at a soup line. On and on I went. It took a while, not because I ran out of names, but because it took a while to write the names on all of them, but soon most of them were filled out. And by most, I mean, all the hearts but one had a name. And the one I had left out was special. It was bigger that the others, with a width of an entire sheet of construction paper.

And then, I started laminating them. I had giant sheets of the material, on which I laid the hearts side by side, the names all facing the same direction. Then, I pressed the other sheet on top, and, using a ruler, pushed all the little air bubbles out. I continued this process until all the hearts, except the one I had not yet written on, were laminated, and then I stood up. That was all the time I had for that day. And so, again I closed the door, and left the room.

When I came back in the room, almost three weeks later (I had been rather busy), most of the laminated hearts had been cut free from each other. A few sheets still remained intact, and these ones were stuck to the wall with a staple gun. The hearts were in a big pile in the center of the room, with the unwritten on, un-laminated one off to the side. In the room now, there was a single piece of furniture- well, sort of furniture. It was a ladder. My wife had done her job well.

I took the remaining hearts and found little gaps in the display for them. Here went one, there another. There was a bit of overlap in some places, and a lot of overlap in others. By the time I had finished putting up all the laminated hearts, the room was colored in red, pink, and light purple. Besides the space I had left for the big heart, there was only a few specks of white to be seen. I smiled, closed the door, and left.

When it was evening, my wife and I went in the room together. She commented on my job, and then, together, we took the last heart. We decorated it, and wrote on it our child's name. Then we laminated it. We smiled as we left the room, leaving the heart we had just finished in the center. We would bring our daughter in here tomorrow.

The next day, we led her into the room, blindfolded. She was a little grumpy, but a little excited too by all the secrecy.

When we took off the blindfold, she gasped in surprise.

"I told you you'd get some valentines, this year. These are all the people you have made a difference in their life. Dear, the world would not be the same place without you. We will always be grateful for you, and so will these other people. However, I think there is one heart missing..."

Here, my wife handed our daughter the large red heart with her name on it. Then, she whispered in our daughter's ear, "Always remember to love yourself. And always remember that you are loved."