Neil Gaiman once wrote an alternative Christmas greeting in one hundred words with the power to surprise and alarm, which he had made into the official Gaiman family Christmas card. Why not, thought I, have hundred word greetings for all seasons? No time like the present, then.
They dragged you, Valentine, to you death for you dared to love. Not so the victims of that other massacre that bore your name, lined up, faces to a wall and deprived of life; all for the love of power and money.
Once a year, in pink flurries, love sent in your hallowed name. No-one remembers who you were, or for who you died.
For shame, none dare sign their name.
For the love of God - the love of love.
"How could your God let the innocent suffer?" they asked.
"I am not innocent," you answered.
A sainted massacre.
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