Valentines Day
This is, as you may guess, a fictional story. About valentines day. Enjoy!
Well, it's Valentines Day again, a day traditionally celebrated by making or buying cards for friends and loved ones, and the exchange of small tokens of affection. Like so many facets of modern life, however, people don't often stop to think about where it came from. If asked, they'll tell you something about "Saint Valentine." Well, I don't know where this rumor started, but I have it on good authority that the man who started the Valentines Day tradition was no saint. He wasn't even named Valentine. His name was Valentino. Luciano Valentino.
Luciano came from Sicily, the youngest brother in an aristocratic household. The Valentino house was caught up in a centuries-old blood feud with the Romeros who lived in the same town. When one member of the family took revenge on something from the past by killing a member of the other family, the other family would soon retaliate in the same way. Feuding families tended to marry young, and live briefly. If they didn't, their blood-line would be erased, and the feud would be settled.
The younger boy of the Valentino household was 17 years old when his oldest brother was murdered. Stabbed in the back at a food market by a Romero he'd failed to recognize. Retaliation was swift, as the middle child was there with him, having not yet been seen by the killer. It was considered just a matter of time before that brother, too, was dead, and it would be up to Lorenzo to take revenge for that.
However, with one brother dead and another certainly doomed, pressure fell on Lorenzo to find a girl to marry. He was popular enough, being in possession of considerable intelligence and a handsome face, but his attentions were irrevocably drawn to a Miss Garibaldi. She, however, regarded the boy as having little ambition and a nature far too passive to be deserving of her hand. And so, his courtings continued to be in vain, and he remained without a wife and without children until late into his twenties.
Eventually, his older brother was killed, poisoned by a young and ambitious Romero boy who happened to be working as a cook in the restaurant the Valentino brother was eating at. At first, no one said anything, but Luciano could feel the townspeople watching him when he went out, and he could hear their whispers as they wondered whether Lorenzo would have the courage to take the revenge he was obligated to take.
Miss Garibaldi, on the other hand, was much more forthcoming in her condemnation. When he ran into her at the market, she told him that she could never marry a man who was not brave enough to take revenge for the murder of his own brother. Luciano was not afraid, but he wasn't angry, either. He knew too well the nature of blood feuds, and was certain that the killer had struck out of a feeling of obligation more than anything else. He would not have claimed to have any delusions about ending the feud through his inactions, if he did nothing another member of the Valentino family, a cousin, perhaps, or maybe even his own son, would pick up the tradition.
When Miss Garibaldi offered to marry Luciano if he got revenge on the Romero boy, his mind was made up. He sent off a letter to the Romero household, and, later that night, he dressed himself in heavy clothing and headed out. The Romero household was not far away. A few blocks, at most, but in the oppressive darkness of night, with the knowledge of the considerable risk he was walking into, it felt to Luciano like he might never arrive at his destination. A part of him wished that he wouldn't.
The back door was unlocked, just as he expected, and when he walked in the room, the Romero boy, and two of his large and well-armed cousins, were standing in the drawing room waiting for him.
By the time Luciano had stumbled home the sun was rising. He was exhausted, bruised, and carrying a small box. By noon the next day the town was buzzing with gossip. He had been to the Romero household, he returned alive. No word yet of any deaths, but then, no one had seen the Romero boy. As far as the people of the town of Terrasini were concerned, the blood feuds were better than cable tv. Of course, cable tv hadn't been invented yet.
Luciano went to see Miss Garibaldi, bringing with him the small box. She was happy to meet with him, as she was sure that he had come to tell her of his successful quest for revenge. She was not dissapointed, either, when, upon opening the box, she discovered a heart, still warm from the victim's chest. The body of the Romero boy was not found, but it was not hard to dispose of bodies those days, and Luciano and Miss Garibaldi were married.
As the next year went on, Luciano's wife started becoming increasingly fretful. She told him that she regretted having pressured him into the killing, as now, surely, someone would come for him any day now. In her youth she considered such a death to be noble, but now, she could not bare the thought of it.
Luciano laughed at this, much to his wife's surprise. He told her the feud was ended, all those years ago. Someone from the Romero family had to die to satisfy the Valentinos, but the Romeros would never have accepted such an outcome passively. On the night Luciano met with the Romeros, they agreed that they would fake the boy's death, and smuggle him off to Grease to live with his cousins. Only then could the Romero boy be assured a long, uninterrupted life, and Luciano could win the heart of his bride-to-be.
"But what about the heart?" The bewildered girl had asked. Luciano laughed as he told her it was merely a pig's heart, taken from one of the animals on the farm in Greece. The gesture had been a grand one, grand enough to put thoughts of doubt out of the minds of the onlookers. In fact, on their next anniversary, and every anniversary after that, Luciano would give to his wife some sort of heart shaped object in a box, to remind her. And when they died, the towns people continued the tradition, giving hearts to their loved ones.
Eventually, the reason why they did this was forgotten, as was the original story about how it started. But they remembered the name of the couple that inspired the practice, and they remembered the date of their anniversary. Remember that, next time you give someone a heart-shaped chocolate on Valentine's Day.
Well, it's Valentines Day again, a day traditionally celebrated by making or buying cards for friends and loved ones, and the exchange of small tokens of affection. Like so many facets of modern life, however, people don't often stop to think about where it came from. If asked, they'll tell you something about "Saint Valentine." Well, I don't know where this rumor started, but I have it on good authority that the man who started the Valentines Day tradition was no saint. He wasn't even named Valentine. His name was Valentino. Luciano Valentino.
Luciano came from Sicily, the youngest brother in an aristocratic household. The Valentino house was caught up in a centuries-old blood feud with the Romeros who lived in the same town. When one member of the family took revenge on something from the past by killing a member of the other family, the other family would soon retaliate in the same way. Feuding families tended to marry young, and live briefly. If they didn't, their blood-line would be erased, and the feud would be settled.
The younger boy of the Valentino household was 17 years old when his oldest brother was murdered. Stabbed in the back at a food market by a Romero he'd failed to recognize. Retaliation was swift, as the middle child was there with him, having not yet been seen by the killer. It was considered just a matter of time before that brother, too, was dead, and it would be up to Lorenzo to take revenge for that.
However, with one brother dead and another certainly doomed, pressure fell on Lorenzo to find a girl to marry. He was popular enough, being in possession of considerable intelligence and a handsome face, but his attentions were irrevocably drawn to a Miss Garibaldi. She, however, regarded the boy as having little ambition and a nature far too passive to be deserving of her hand. And so, his courtings continued to be in vain, and he remained without a wife and without children until late into his twenties.
Eventually, his older brother was killed, poisoned by a young and ambitious Romero boy who happened to be working as a cook in the restaurant the Valentino brother was eating at. At first, no one said anything, but Luciano could feel the townspeople watching him when he went out, and he could hear their whispers as they wondered whether Lorenzo would have the courage to take the revenge he was obligated to take.
Miss Garibaldi, on the other hand, was much more forthcoming in her condemnation. When he ran into her at the market, she told him that she could never marry a man who was not brave enough to take revenge for the murder of his own brother. Luciano was not afraid, but he wasn't angry, either. He knew too well the nature of blood feuds, and was certain that the killer had struck out of a feeling of obligation more than anything else. He would not have claimed to have any delusions about ending the feud through his inactions, if he did nothing another member of the Valentino family, a cousin, perhaps, or maybe even his own son, would pick up the tradition.
When Miss Garibaldi offered to marry Luciano if he got revenge on the Romero boy, his mind was made up. He sent off a letter to the Romero household, and, later that night, he dressed himself in heavy clothing and headed out. The Romero household was not far away. A few blocks, at most, but in the oppressive darkness of night, with the knowledge of the considerable risk he was walking into, it felt to Luciano like he might never arrive at his destination. A part of him wished that he wouldn't.
The back door was unlocked, just as he expected, and when he walked in the room, the Romero boy, and two of his large and well-armed cousins, were standing in the drawing room waiting for him.
By the time Luciano had stumbled home the sun was rising. He was exhausted, bruised, and carrying a small box. By noon the next day the town was buzzing with gossip. He had been to the Romero household, he returned alive. No word yet of any deaths, but then, no one had seen the Romero boy. As far as the people of the town of Terrasini were concerned, the blood feuds were better than cable tv. Of course, cable tv hadn't been invented yet.
Luciano went to see Miss Garibaldi, bringing with him the small box. She was happy to meet with him, as she was sure that he had come to tell her of his successful quest for revenge. She was not dissapointed, either, when, upon opening the box, she discovered a heart, still warm from the victim's chest. The body of the Romero boy was not found, but it was not hard to dispose of bodies those days, and Luciano and Miss Garibaldi were married.
As the next year went on, Luciano's wife started becoming increasingly fretful. She told him that she regretted having pressured him into the killing, as now, surely, someone would come for him any day now. In her youth she considered such a death to be noble, but now, she could not bare the thought of it.
Luciano laughed at this, much to his wife's surprise. He told her the feud was ended, all those years ago. Someone from the Romero family had to die to satisfy the Valentinos, but the Romeros would never have accepted such an outcome passively. On the night Luciano met with the Romeros, they agreed that they would fake the boy's death, and smuggle him off to Grease to live with his cousins. Only then could the Romero boy be assured a long, uninterrupted life, and Luciano could win the heart of his bride-to-be.
"But what about the heart?" The bewildered girl had asked. Luciano laughed as he told her it was merely a pig's heart, taken from one of the animals on the farm in Greece. The gesture had been a grand one, grand enough to put thoughts of doubt out of the minds of the onlookers. In fact, on their next anniversary, and every anniversary after that, Luciano would give to his wife some sort of heart shaped object in a box, to remind her. And when they died, the towns people continued the tradition, giving hearts to their loved ones.
Eventually, the reason why they did this was forgotten, as was the original story about how it started. But they remembered the name of the couple that inspired the practice, and they remembered the date of their anniversary. Remember that, next time you give someone a heart-shaped chocolate on Valentine's Day.