0 comments/ 16635 views/ 0 favorites The Legend of The Pit By: epiphany65 Chapter 1 Mark Withers sat on the edge of his sofa in his livingroom, leaning over the coffee table in front of him. On the floor between his feet was an open cardboard box. Strewn about on the coffee table were letters, photographs, greeting cards and various other momentous that his ex-girlfriend, Denise, had given him. He and Denise had broken up just over a week previous, ending their three-year relationship. Now Mark was left alone in the house that they had been renting, with nothing but a collection of objects and memories. Relics of their relationship. Mark had gathered up all of the cherished souvenirs and gifts Denise had given him over the course of their relationship, intending to throw them away. Picking up a birthday card that Denise had given him two years ago on this twenty-first birthday Mark scanned the note she had written at the bottom of the card. He scoffed as he read "Love always, Denise". He dropped the card into the box, atop the other things he had deposited in it as tears welled in his dark eyes. With a heavy sigh Mark slid the remaining items on the table towards him. One by one they fell from the coffee table into the cardboard coffin at his feet. As Mark was folding the cardboard box closed on his lap the doorbell rang. His heart began to race as his immediate thought was hope that it might be Denise. He dropped the box on the coffee table and dashed to the door. When Mark opened the door he discovered one of his best friends, Kevin Craine, standing there. He and Kevin had known each other since they were seven years old. Kevin had always been one of Mark's most loyal and dependable friends. "Hey, man, how's it going?" Kevin asked. He walked past Mark and took a can of Pepsi from the fridge. "Okay, I guess." Mark replied, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans as he forced a smile. Kevin went into the livingroom and sat down in a chair beside the coffee table. Mark followed him and sat on the sofa. As Kevin gulped his Pepsi he peered over to the box. His green eyes narrowed and he was filled with curiousty. "What's in the box?" "Stuff that Denise gave me," Mark replied "I gathered it all up so I can throw it out next garbage day." "So you think that's going to make you feel better?" Kevin asked in disbelief. "It can't make me feel any worse." Mark countered. "Are you sure about that? What if a month, or a year, from now you want those things back?" "I won't, Kevin. Believe me. They're just painful reminders." Kevin placed his Pepsi can down next to the box as a smile appeared on his face. "Then what you need to do is take them to The Pit." he told his friend. "The Pit?" Mark questioned. "You've never heard of The Pit?" Kevin asked, quite surprised. "No, what is it?" "It's sort of like Mel's Hole." Kevin explained. "Mel's Hole," Mark laughed "is that a porn movie you saw recently?" "No," Kevin replied, sounding quite earnest. " Kevin leaned back in his chair. His eyes moved to the wall opposite him as he grinned. It was a few moments before he spoke. "Do you know where Sullivan Road is, Mark?" "Yeah, but I haven't been out there since I was a kid." Mark replied. "Well, if you follow Sullivan Road down along St. Joseph's Cove it will take you to The Pit. After the pavement ends, follow the dirt road for about another mile." "So? Then what?" Mark prodded. "Then you'll see a line of trees," Kevin continued "there's a path that leads into the woods for about a hundred yards -- inside is a clearing. That's where The Pit is. You can't miss it. It's surrounded by a rock wall about waist high that someone built years ago -- although it might not be there anymore. It's been years since I've been there." "What am I supposed to do?" Mark asked. "You have to go there the night of Valentine's Day, after dark, before midnight -- no later. Throw the box of things that Denise gave you into The Pit." Kevin explained. Mark sneered. "I don't see how that will make me feel better than putting it out with the trash next Monday morning. Besides, Valentine's Day is almost a month away." Kevin gave an understanding nod. "You're just going to have to trust me on this, Mark. I did it, and it was the best decision I ever made. My grandfather said he went out there years ago. I think even my dad did too." "How did you hear about all this anyway? It sounds like one of those urban legends to me." "My grandfather told me about it when I was a kid. I guess he heard about it from his grandfather." Kevin explained. "So what exactly is The Pit anyway?" Kevin shrugged. "No one really knows for sure. Some say it's an abandoned well -- others think it's an entrance to an old mine shaft from when they used to mine coal out there years ago. Some even say it goes down all the way to Hell. It's been there forever. No one who's alive now can remember when it wasn't there." Mark had rarely smiled since he and Denise had broken up, but as he listened to his friend he felt the corners of his mouth turning up. "It sounds like those stories you hear about someone selling their soul to The Devil at the crossroads at mightnight. Are you sure I don't need to take the bones of a black cat or something like that with me?" he asked with a laugh. "No, it's nothing like that," Kevin assured him, shaking his head "it's something positive. Scoff if you want, but do it, Mark; you'll be glad you did -- believe me! You were just going to throw the stuff out anyway. What have you got to lose?" "An evening when I could be doing something else -- that's what I've got to lose." Kevin shot Mark a snide grin. "Like you have plans for Valentine's Day now. What are you going to do -- drink beer and listen to sad songs while you hope that Denise calls?" Mark bristled at Kevin's words. His mouth grew tight as he glared at him with narrow eyes. "Okay, I'm sorry, Mark. That was harsh. But I'm serious about you taking this stuff to The Pit. The worst that can happen is you'll have a story to tell your kids years from now." Mark thought for a while weighing his friend's words carefully. Despite his skepticism and misgivings he was swayed by the emphatic manner in which Kevin had encouraged him to take the box to The Pit. After close to a minute he looked up to Kevin with a smile and nodded. "Okay... I'll do it." "Great," Kevin exclaimed "you won't regret this, Mark. It will make you feel a hundred percent better. I promise." "Yeah... and come February fifteenth you can laugh at me for being gullible." "No," Kevin said with a shake of his head "you won't hear me laughing." "We'll see. Your life is great, Kevin. You and Brenda have a perfect marriage and a baby on the way. I'm the broken-hearted fool." "Do you think that my life was always like this, man? I've gone through what you are right now -- which is why I'm telling you to go to The Pit. It helped me." "Okay... okay. You've made your point." Mark exclaimed, raising his palms towards Kevin. Kevin gestured towards the box on the coffee table between them. "So, have you put everything in there that you wanted to get rid of?" "Yeah." Mark nodded. "Good." Kevin replied as he stood up. He picked the box up from the table and tucked it under his left arm. "I'm taking this with me so you don't throw it out. I'll be over the night of the thirteenth with it so you can take it to The Pit the next night." Mark followed Kevin to the door, feeling rather silly. His better judgement told him that he had fallen for one of Kevin's jokes, but he was desperate for any sort of relief from the aching and longing he felt. Kevin had been so adamant about The Pit that Mark decided he had better give it a try -- if only out of desperation. "I'll see you on the thirteenth," Kevin promised "but if you need to talk, or want some company before then, give me a call." "Thanks. I will." Mark replied before closing the door. Chapter 2 It was just over a week before Mark forgot about the box that Kevin had taken home with him. He had not forgotten about Denise however. People had told him that the pain would go away in time, but time was passing too slowly for him. It was only when Mark saw displays for Valentine's Day in stores that he remembered the box that Kevin had taken home with him. He snickered to himself, thinking that Kevin too had no doubt forgotten all about his promise to return it the night of the thirteenth. One of these days Kevin would return the box, then he could put it out with the rest of the trash at the curb Mark told himself. The evening of February thirteenth Mark was sitting on his sofa, watching television as he ate a pizza that he had picked up on his way home from work. When his doorbell rang Mark jumped. He placed his glass of Pepsi on the coffee table and marched to the door. When Mark opened the door he found Kevin standing there, arms out-stretched, holding the cardboard box he had taken home with him during his last visit. "You thought I forgot, didn't you?" he grinned. "Well..." Kevin pushed the box into Mark's hands and walked inside. He took a can of Pepsi from the fridge and began to nurse it, still with a smug grin. "So, you know what you have to do, do you?" Kevin asked. Mark went into the livingroom and placed the box on the floor beside the sofa. He took a bite from the slice of pizza on the plate as he nodded. "Yeah... go down Sullivan Road to the end and walk into the woods. Toss the box into The Pit, then come home and wait for you to call so you can laugh at me." "You got it right, except for the part about me laughing at you," Kevin replied "oh... and make sure you bring a flashlight because it's dark out there. You better wear warm clothes too. It gets pretty cold at night." He took a slice of pizza from the open box on the coffee table and bit into it. Mark nodded, chewing on his pizza. "If you don't have a flashlight, I'll loan you one." Kevin offered. "I've got one in the tool drawer in the kitchen." Mark said. "Good. You'll need it." "I gotta tell ya, Kevin, this whole thing seems pretty damn silly to me." Mark said. "I know," Kevin replied, chewing on the pizza "I know exactly what you're thinking. I thought it all too the night before I went out there." "When did you go anyway? You never told me about it before." "Close to three years ago," Kevin said "Brenda and I had broken up and I was going through what you are now." "Oh..." Mark grunted, not wanting to pry, although his friend's disclosure came as a surprise to him. "I'm going to have to go," Kevin interrupted "I told Brenda I'd pick up some Haagen-Dazs for her and that I wouldn't be too long." "Okay." Mark replied, following his friend to the door. "So, you're sure you understand all my instructions?" "Yeah... it seems pretty straight-forward." Mark replied. "Good," Kevin said "have fun!" Mark gave Kevin a puzzled look as he watched him walk towards his car. As he held onto the door, watching Kevin drive off, Mark could not help but smile as he imagined the teasing he was going to have to endure in a day or two when Kevin called to ask how his trip to The Pit went. Chapter 3 When Mark arrived home from work at the end of the next day, Valentine's Day, he saw the cardboard box containing the things that his ex-girlfriend had given him sitting on the coffee table. He sighed, knowing that he had promised Kevin that he would deposit it into The Pit that night and that Kevin would probably call the next evening wanting to know if he had done as he had promised. This night was his only opportunity for the next year to do this. Mark made himself a sandwich and ate it as quickly as possible. The sooner he got this over with the sooner he would be back home he reminded himself. He pulled on a black fleece coat and rummaged through his kitchen drawer for a flashlight. After making sure the flashlight worked Mark brought the box out to his car to begin his journey. As Mark drove along Langfield Street he could see the moonlight shining on the water of St. Joseph's Cove. It looked picturesque, but Mark never concerned himself with that. He had a mission to accomplish so he could get back home as soon as possible. He turned right onto Sullivan Road, knowing he was getting close. When the pavement ended Mark slowed down, navigating the dirt road with care to avoid potholes and ruts. He reached into his left pocket to reassure himself that his flashlight was there. When the rutty path came to an end Mark pulled his car over to the right. His headlights shone on a cluster of pine trees about fifty feet in the distance. He knew he must have found the right place. Mark shut his headlights off, then turned off the car engine. He picked up the box on the passenger seat beside him and stepped out of the car. The moonlight helped to illuminate the path before him, but Mark was still grateful for Kevin's advice to bring a flashlight. He aimed the bright beam on the ground ahead of him as he made his way towards the narrow path in the distance. Once Mark entered the pathway inside the stand of trees he discovered that it was much darker without the aid of the moonlight shining down. He squinted, trying to get his bearings. Mark followed the path up a small hill to a flat open area. There he could see a clearing just as Kevin had described. He shone the flashlight around -- searching left and right. Now the half-moon was clearly visible once more. Moments later Mark saw something a ways away that he was sure must be the rock wall surrounding The Pit, as Kevin had described. Mark quickened his pace, eager to get back to the warmth of his car. Mark could see the vapor from his breath in the night air as he marched towards The Pit. He tugged the zipper of his jacket higher towards his chin. As Mark approached The Pit he directed his flashlight into the murky darkness. He could see nothing. Once he was about ten feet away a stench rose from The Pit, filling his nostrils and lungs. He felt his throat tighten and feared he was going to vomit. Mark stepped away, gasping for air as he bent over. Drawing in another deep breath of fresh air Mark approached The Pit once more -- holding the cardboard box tight in his hands, prepared to toss it into the inky abyss. As Mark hoisted the box towards his shoulders he heard the sound of rustling dead leaves on the ground and twigs snapping behind him. Thinking that a racoon, or perhaps a porcupine, was approaching Mark lowered the box and turned around. He aimed his flashlight out towards the row of pine trees behind him. "Hello there." Mark could hear the voice, but it was a moment before he saw the dark figure approaching him. Mark's heart raced, sending adrenaline to every muscle and nerve in his body. As the elderly man drew closer Mark realized that he was too old and frail to be a threat; he relaxed. "So what brings you out here tonight?" the old man asked. Mark shone the beam of his flashlight over the intruder. His dirty grey hair was pushed back on his head and hung down towards his slight shoulders. He was wearing a blue plaid flannel shirt, over which was a brown suede jacket. His jeans were dirty and there was a hole in the right knee of them. "What do you want?" Mark demanded, trying to sound menacing. "I was just wondering what you were doing," the old man replied "I mean you no harm." Mark could feel his muscles relax as he looked into the old man's face. His blue eyes seemed kind and he had a friendly smile. He looked gentle Mark thought to himself. As he moved closer Mark detected a familiar scent. At first he could not place it, then he could not believe his senses. It was roses. The old man smelled like roses. But how could it be? "I came out to The Pit." Mark explained. "Ahh... yes... The Pit," the old man sighed, sounding weary "every year on this night I see people just like you -- young men mostly -- throwing their love away into The Pit." Mark gave a puzzled look. "Do you honestly think that will make things better?" he asked Mark. Mark shrugged. "A friend of mine told me that's what I should do." "Yes. I see," the old man said "so, that box... you have all the things she gave you?" "Yes." Mark replied. "What's her name?" the elderly stranger demanded. "Denise." Mark answered. The old man nodded, looking back over his shoulder. "I have a fire going over there. Will you care to join me for a while? It's such a cold night." Mark felt empathy for the stranger. Like him, he too was alone on Valentine's Day, and probably reminiscing over lost loves. The least he could do was spend a little time with him and perhaps cheer him up. Mark could also feel the cool night air slicing through his fleece jacket and the thought of sitting by a fire for a while appealed to him. The old man turned and lead Mark towards a thicket of pine trees behind them. Behind the trees was a small clearing where a fire was burning within a circle of rocks next to a grassy embankment. The old man sat down a few feet away from the fire, leaning over as he held his wrinkled hands towards the flames as they rose into the darkness. "This is nice. I seldom get company." the old man remarked, smiling. Mark sat down, placing his box on the ground between himself and the old man. He smiled as he reached his hands out towards the crackling flames. Soon Mark could feel the heat of the fire radiate through his clothes and warm his body. He smiled. "My name's Mark." he said, glancing towards his right. "Nice to meet you, Mark." The old man never looked up from the fire in front of them. "And you're...?" An enigmatic expression crept over the old man's face. He turned to face Mark, his blue eyes moving up and down. Mark noticed the deep lines around his eyes, illuminated by the fire. On either side of his mouth lines formed as his thin lips formed a smile. They appeared like deep shadows on his face. "People call me by a lot of names," he said "but I'll answer to anything." Mark thought for a moment, wondering if his new acquaintance was a fugitive from the law who didn't want his true identity known. He decided it was probably best to not pursue the matter. "Well, since this is Saint Valentine's Day, how about I call you Valentine?" Mark suggested. "Perfect! Valentine it is! Although I don't know how many people would call me a saint." His laugh echoed amongst the trees. Mark lowered his head, glancing down towards the box between him and Valentine. The heat from the fire was soothing and Mark did not want to get up, yet he knew that his purpose there was to deposit the box into The Pit. "So, what do you have in the box?" Valentine asked. "All the things she gave me." Mark mumbled. "Yes, but what exactly? Will you show me, please?" Valentine prodded, leaning closer to Mark. Despite his reluctance and embarrassment Mark pried open the ears of the box, revealing it's contents to Valentine. Valentine bent over, darting his eyes inside the box. Mark noticed the lines on Valentine's face deepen as he squinted, peering inside to survey the contents of the box. The orange light from the fire bathed Valentine's face and Mark guessed his age to be close to eighty -- although he may have just appeared older than he actually was. He had probably had his heart broken many times throughout his life Mark thought to himself as he frowned. Now he was old and alone on Valentine's Day. Suddenly his own plight did not seem so bad to Mark. As Valentine leaned over the box Mark noticed what appeared to be two small gold medallions hanging from chains around Valentine's neck. They looked valuable and seemed out-of-place, worn by someone who appeared to be a vagrant. Mark wondered if they might have been gifts from a past lover, or perhaps a wife Valentine had years ago. 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.