"The Death of Fables" - A Serialized Collection of Flash Fiction (Part 2: Valentine's Day)

My first attempt at writing a cohesive collection of flash fiction was this strange, satirical (and often dark) look at the holidays. Not only the holiday, but the special days throughout the years as well; birthdays, 9/11, the changing of seasons, etc. I've done absolutely no editing on any of the original texts, so hopefully they're not too terrible and I hope you enjoy.

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It wasn’t long after I realized that Santa didn’t exist that I came to understand that Valentine’s Day was created to help those unromantic types change their ways, if only for an evening. It’s pretty sad when you have to rely on a greeting card company to help perpetuate your drowning relationship. Then again, I suppose it’s just as believable as a fat man fitting down every available chimney and just giving shit away to every living child in one night. Or a huge rabbit just randomly leaving candy and eggs around neighborhoods.

I was nine years old, existing my way through the second grade via principal’s office visits and hard time served in detention. There was the occasional ass paddling as well, but only because I pulled a girl’s hair in an adolescent attempt at flirting. Some kids believed in nap time and tacos at lunch. I believed in raising hell while I still had time.

That year, Sally Michels had been my crush. Her parents had dressed her in cute skirts and pony tails every day and I counted down the days until that most romantic of holidays, hoping to give her the card that would make her want to go steady with me. We would play tag at recess, and on occasion my hand would falter and fondle more than it should have, but she didn’t seem to mind and so I thought my chances were better than average.

The day before Valentine’s Day, upon my exodus from the principal’s office ass-sore and limping, I saw her and Jimmy Tengler holding hands and walking down the hallway. She held a card in her free hand and they had their backs to me. To say I was hurt would be a lie. I was more pissed that I hadn’t gotten my card to her first. It wasn’t so much about crushing on Sally as it was about crushing my competition, which was Jimmy.

That night I went home and made her a card. I cut up off-center hearts in all different colors and made it look nice. Then I wrote her a letter on notebook paper: “Im braking up with you. Luv, Jimmy.” I got to school early and when our teacher left the room, I placed the card inside Sally’s desk, waiting for her to open it and watch the fireworks during first period Grammar, but she never showed.

We started Math period and she still hadn’t appeared, my card waiting anxiously to be opened. I couldn’t concentrate. I had focused all my attention on her desk, which now seemed to be radiating with and angelic light in a blackened room. My palms were sweaty and my right leg was bouncing up and down in a constant state of fidget. I looked over at Jimmy, who seemed not to notice or care that she was gone. The prick.

I ate lunch that day, alone and angry. My plan was being wasted and at this point, she wouldn’t get the letter until Monday. After lunch, I returned to the classroom, apathetic and uninterested in science homework. Mrs. Parker had received a note halfway through class explaining that Sally had moved to another school for one reason or another. I was stunned, but Jimmy looked as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, did you know she was moving?” I whispered.

“Yeah. I’ve known for awhile. Her dad became the president of some car place or something, I dunno. He’s making like, a million dollars and they’re gonna live in a mansion. That’s what she said,” he whispered back, excited.

“Nuh uh! A mansion?”

“Yeah. She said it’s all the way on the other side of the city.”

“Well why didn’t she tell me she was moving?” I asked. She and I had known each other for a pretty long time. Wasn’t recess flirting supposed to mean something?

“I don’t know,” he whispered back, going back to his science homework.

I leaned back in my chair, frustrated. Now my note would never find its way into her hands. What a waste of time and effort. Had I known earlier, I would’ve actually done my homework instead of wasting perfectly good construction paper.

The bell rang at 2pm that day and I was the last one out of the classroom. Mrs. Parker was in the back closet, organizing the coats that had been left behind when I walked out of the room. A cartoon cupid hung on the wall next to the doorway, not smiling but not frowning and holding a bow with a heart-tipped arrow. I grabbed a marker from my bag and drew a moustache on him, crossed out his eyes and blackened the heart at the end of the arrow before heading home for the day. It was the first time I’d smiled all day.