Story no. 3 in the Valentine's Day Series
Old man Diego lived in the foothills of a rugged mountain range. The inhabitants of the nearby village knew him to be mean and miserly. What they did not know were the circumstances under which he had found himself all those years ago, before he came from far to live in the little stone house at the foot of the mountain. No one knew how his loved ones had been taken from him and were murdered by the regime. From that grim day on, old man Diego distanced himself from the world and what is more, from his heart. A heart scarred with grief, a heart that slowly forgot how it felt to be kindled by love.
As soon as she had hidden the conch in the wardrobe, Deborah hastened back to the living room. What had come over her, she wondered, hiding something from her own sister. She guessed she just did not want Jenny to think she had lost her mind, especially after their dad had talked to Jenny about her. What exactly would her dad have told her? Deborah knew her dad would never disclose the details of their conversation that night, but then again, she was not feeling her usual self yet. She was still startled by the goings-on since she had arrived at the family beach house.
Story no. 2 in the Valentine's Day Series
A warm wind began to blow from the east and found its way into the smallest alleyways of the Mediterranean port. Elmira knew it was that time again. The wind caressed her cheek and her ear, and she sensed it straight away. She felt it in her heart that tingled with desire and in her eyes that pricked with homesickness. An inner conflict took control of her. Gently she pulled aside the curtains that the wind was playfully tugging, left the coolness of the room and stepped on to the sun-drenched balcony. There she looked out over the deep blue sea in the bay and pricked her ears to the sound of the friendly, yet tormenting wind.
Story no. 1 in the Valentine's Day Series
Angelica looked up from the plates that she was wiping with a wet, threadbare tea towel. She peered outside through the small window and saw how the morning sun danced on the puddles. Everything seemed so peaceful now, very different to the night before, when the rain from the spring storm had thrashed against the corrugated iron sheeting of her shack. The storm had been so wild; making her wonder if it would tear her beloved home apart. Strangely enough, it made her smile. It wasn’t much of a house, and yet, it and everything inside were very dear to her.
“What are you doing here, baby sis?” Deborah asked.
“Is that the welcome I get after all those years?” Jenny responded,
“Yes, it’s certainly been a while,” Deborah admitted with a hint of melancholy in her voice. “I bet Dad told you I was here.”
“That’s right. We were on the phone the other day and he told me you needed to get some stuff sorted out or something. So, I thought I’d pay you a visit and catch up with you. Maybe we can get some surfing in as well.”