A Valentine Card

He lived a humdrum life, went out to work each day, did his job, came home, ate, watched TV and went to bed. That was his every day, except at weekends when he had an extra hour in bed.

Socialising was not on his agenda, and he only spoke to work colleagues when he had to.

So it was a bit of a shock when he saw an unmarked envelope that had come through his letterbox when he was out at work. It was unmarked, so someone local had posted it through, maybe a neighbour.

He opened the card, and it was a Valentin's card. He had never had one in his life before, so he felt a little excitement.

Then he opened it up and it contained just four letters in reddy-brown ink or paint that spelt out the word

M I N E

This was both confusing and disturbing. It was not a pleasant card, certainly gave no airs of pleasantness, it was almost like a prison sentence. There was no indication who had sent it or why, and he felt threatened and scared.

There was no one that he could ask what to do. It might just be someone playing a sick joke, or it may be something more sinister.

Then his phone dinged, he had a voicemail. It was an unknown number, so he played it and a robotic voice spelt out the letters:

M I N E

He went to play it again but the voicemail had gone. It was not in the bin, it had just gone.

Sleep did not come to him, he thought there was someone in the house, but he checked every room, and made sure the doors and windows were locked. There was no one else in the house, but he was sure there was some presence which was going to take him.

The following day he broached the subject to some work colleagues but they showed no interest, and that made him feel even more alone.

Who had sent the Valentine's Card that was not a Valentine's Card and why had they sent it? The more he looked at the writing in the card, the more he thought it was written in blood, and if that was true it disturbed him even more, but there was no way he could check that it was blood.

That night, he went to bed more scared than ever. He didn't know why but he felt a more malevolent presence in the house, and he had nowhere to go. The weather outside was terrible, but he didn't want to risk going out, so stayed in the house and went upstairs to bed.

Once in bed, he heard the wind howling like a demon outside, as though it were trying to get it. The windows rattled he tried to ignore it.

Then, ever so slowly, the wind changed into a voice, spelling out the letters

M I N E

He was sure that it must be his shattered imagination, but the letters and the words were becoming clearer than ever. The presence, the voice, the demon was stating that he belonged to it.

It was becoming clearer as his bed began to burn, and he could not move, he was being immolated, by the spirit of the house.

That was what had sent him the voicemail, and had told him through the blowing wind.

This was no human behind the disturbing messages, it was something far more unholy.

It was the demonic presence that had sent him the Valentine's Card which contained its statement of ownership.