The Lost Heart

Rubble and broken glass scatter the roads. Alarms from crushed cars trill in the distance. Chaos pulsed through the air, change now definite. Well, that’s how it’s been from the beginning, full of chaos.

Aphrodite had created and gifted me to a mortal, as a token on her “gratitude” for picking her as the most fair of the gods. Between her, Athena, and Hera, she was the obvious choice. She had promised him what everyone wants, the deepest desires of their heart. So, Aphrodite gave me to him, telling him that whatever goes inside of my heart-shaped enclosure would be granted. He wanted the heart of a woman, Helen. Once he had a piece of her hair inside and locked up, I knew what to do. She came running for him, and the rest of her country soon followed.

Soon word spread of my powers and what I could do there was a mixture of men, and women, who wanted power or money, knowledge or love, but sometimes there were some humans who just wanted the strength to live another day. One of these cases was a young girl. I was given to her, along with an old diary, on her 13th birthday by her parents who found me in a pawn shop. Her young hands would rub over my face absently while she was thinking, or she would twist my chain when she grew anxious. All she had wanted was one more day, one more chance to be safe. So every night she would put part of a calendar in me, pleading for another day. They had gone into hiding, her family and one other shoved into a tight attic. I could tell they were scared, unsure of the day that they were inevitably found; they were running on borrowed time. There was one day however that she forgot to rip the calendar, forgot to whisper her pleas. They had come for her the next morning. I remember her cries as she was ripped from her father's arms, shoved onto a train like cattle. As soon as she had gotten to her destination they ripped me from her neck, throwing me onto a pile of other pieces of jewelry.

After that it was a flurry of people wanting more money, more love, more justice, more, more, more. It was always more with humans, always wanting. And now I lay in dirt and glass, being kicked through the debris of a fallen building, all because someone wanted more than they could handle. The greediness of humans and the lack of content with what they possess being their downfall.

Days, months, years pass by before I felt the cautious tug on my chain. A young woman held me up to her face, inspecting my smooth surface, surprise lighting her eyes once she sees no damage done to my exterior. She slowly turns me over in her hand, thumb grazing over the engraving on my back, “Your heart’s deepest desires.” She quickly unclasps the back and reclips it around her neck, untucking her hair from the constraints of the chain. As soon as I rest against her collar I knew something was different.

It had been weeks since the girl had found me, and she still hadn't put anything in me, hadn't asked. We traveled through the empty streets looking for other survivors. Whenever she would find people she would take them back to a still-standing apartment complex, rooms once again occupied with those who had lost their homes. She would give them a room and supplies: food, blankets, clothing, anything they needed. I knew she could feel the tug, everyone felt it once they were close to me. But she never once fell into temptation. She had been the first.

After a year of being together I had started to grow fond of the girl. Her name was Layla, or at least that's what she told people. I knew what the desires of her heart were without her having to ask. She had given it to the world after it had fallen apart. And what she had wanted, what she had given, you couldn't physically put into me.

Justice. Healing. Peace.

No one had ever given their heart without expecting something in return. Oh, she was special. It was then that I made up my mind. This one time, I would give without asking, just like she had.