Art and the philosophy of life

Archive for the ‘Hearts’ Category

Hearts…a shortValentine’s Day story.

Red Neon Light Signage

“I’d like a pound of hearts, please.  The little ones with the tiny sayings on them.”

“You need to go to a different kind of place for those,” she said.  “Like a grocery store, or a candy store.  We don’t sell those tiny hearts here.”

He backed up and looked at the sign.  “It’s says HEARTS.”

“I know that,” she sighed. “But we only deal in real ones.”

“Real hearts?  Like the one inside my body?”

She nodded.  “The very one.  Would you like to sell yours?”

“How would I spend the money?  I’d be dead.”

“We would make sure your next of kin received your check.”

“Are you serious?”

She pushed a folder across the counter.  “These are the rates,” she said.  “You could set someone up for quite a long times, if you were to sell.”

He looked at the prices. “So the younger the heart, the more money.”

“Of course,” she said, leaning against the bar.  “If that’s not to your liking, there are a couple of other things available.”

“What, you want my liver too?”

“Yuk, no,” she said, making an ugly face.  “There’s a room in the back.  People who believe that hearts have power, will pay to drink your blood, then eat your heart.  They pay even more than the prices in this brochure.”

“So basically vampires.”

She nodded.  Or, if you want to sell your heart we can fix you up with a scubas.  You’ll die happy, and your family will have financial security.”

“No thanks.”

“Fine,” she said, taking back the brochure, getting ready to walk away.  “There is one more thing.”

“Hit me with it,” he said. “I can hardly wait.”

“We can fix you up with your heart’s desire.  You have to pay us for that one.”

“You mean like a dating service?”

“If that’s what you desire.  You just have to think about what you want, while you’re alive, and that’s what you’ll get.  When you die, your heart is used to pay your debt, for services rendered.”

“I don’t like any of the choices.”

“We have a Valentine’s Day special.”

“What is it?”

“It’s pretty boring.”

“I seriously doubt that.  Just tell me.”

“For a certain price,” she said, pushing a flier toward him, “we’ll find your so called, soul mate.  It’s pricy, but you’ll be very happy, I can assure you.”

“I just came in here for candy hearts.  The little ones with the tiny sayings on them.  Assorted colors.”

“As I said, we do not sell the tiny hearts with the sayings on them, no matter what color they are.  Now, you have taken up enough of my time, so  either choose one, or leave this establishment.”

“This is weird.”

“To you, maybe.”

“I’m gonna go, now.”

“If you change your mind, you might not be able to find us.”

“Why not?”

“Some people seem to think our business isn’t quite legal.  So we move…a lot.”

“Are you a vampire?”


“I thought so,” he said.

“What gave it away?”

“The fangs, pale skin, the way you keep looking at my throat.”

“Yeah, that’s a tell for sure,” she sighed.  “I keep trying not to do that, look at everyone’s throat, I mean, but it’s hard not to when it’s a pulse point.”

“I guess.  Well, good luck,” he said.

“You too.  Hope you find the little hearts with the tiny sayings on them.”

“Thanks,” he said.  “I hope you find what you’re looking for as well.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He smiled at her, pushed open the door, and walked back into the night


Photo:  Maksim Goncharenok




Photo:  Debby Hudson


Ruin, Old House, Decay, Old, Building

When I look at this poor house, through no fault of it’s own, it started to die, because no one loved it.  It stopped being cared for.

I think relationships are like that.  If love isn’t cared for and appreciated, they too can fall apart and end up abandoned.  If things get in the way of what’s important, people will just walk away.  When that happens, the relationship dies.

The thing every relationship/love needs is different for every one, of course.  Only the people involved know what they need/want, but they all need attention and care.

I happened to marry a chicklet. Well, he was actually human, but he was as cute and sweet as a chicklet.   I was absolutely crazy about him.  He was my chicklet until the Great Hen came and took him to wherever chicklets go when their lives are over.  So, while my house is freshly painted, my heart mostly looks like the house in the picture.  It’s hard to maintain a heart that’s been torn to pieces far too many times.

Sometimes…a poem

Heart, Watercolor, Red, Valentine, Day

sometimes hearts bleed
around the edges
they can’t contain themselves
whether it’s because they are full of
or full of
either way
they just bleed

Tag Cloud

%d bloggers like this: