Origin of Heartbreak

~How something got its name~

A long time ago, when true love was innocent, bright as the night sky speckled with light, fresh as a crisp breath of winter, and sweet as a fruit swelled with juice, a young boy and girl fell in love.

One beautiful spring day, the boy called upon his love to go with him on a stroll through the town gardens. He lifted her small gentle hand and placed it in his, and he told her that he wished to marry her.

Now the boy had nothing to give his lady as a gift, so he visited the town goldsmith. He was poor, and the greedy, unsympathetic goldsmith, grinning wickedly with his shining golden tooth, told him he had nothing for him. The boy was disheartened and angry, for the goldsmith was a filthy man who cared only for himself.

Late that evening he sneaked into the shop, carrying a sharpened dagger of iron.

Bracing himself, he crept to the bedside of the old goldsmith and placed his cold hand on his grimy chest. His hand shook as he drew back the rusty dagger and plunged it into the sleeping man's heart.

The man awoke, frightened, shouting and writhing in pain. His greasy hair shook about his panicked unshaven face. He fitfully rolled about his bed, blood staining his sheets. The air was soaked with cries of pain and mercy, drenched in bloodcurdling screams. Finally, all was quiet, and the man's eyelids fluttered shut, his mouth open in a final eternal plead. The boy, shivering with fear and satisfaction, pulled the bloodstained golden tooth from the dead man's mouth and held his prize up to the light. Now he would have enough gold to buy his lady something grand.

All of a sudden, a chill breeze rattled the windowpanes and a loud booming voice called, "You wicked boy! How dare you kill a man for your own pleasure? You shall be banish'ed to this bed, stricken with disease and pain until your final breath."

The boy, frightened, dropped the dagger and the tooth with a clatter.

It shimmered splendidly, emitting a sickening ominous glow which spilled out the windows and into the street, attracting the attention of the boy's curious maiden.

The boy suffered seemingly endless fits of coughing, spewing blood and his pride as he lay helplessly in the late goldsmith's bed. His lady prayed to the Deity, begging for forgiveness, but the boy had done wrong. She held his hand as he painfully sucked in his last breath of air on Earth, as he slipped away from her forever.

"No!" The girl cried, her heart contorting into a knot in her chest.

"I cannot go on without the love of my life, o Deity, forgive me!"

She fumbled with the blood-crusted knife lying at her feet and clenched her teeth, the cold handle sending piercing floods of anguish and terror through her veins. With a loud scream that pierced the rank air, she pushed it forcefully into her chest. Her body slithered lifelessly to the floor and without a sound she drifted away from Earth….and the glistening dagger disappeared. She died a sweet young virgin, at the foot of womanhood, unable to be saved when the lights flew on and the village's best healers rushed in.

They shook their heads, shameful of their inability to save such a pure and good daughter of the Deity. Her mother sobbed profusely, soaking her blouse as her many young children tugged at her large ruffled skirt. Her father was pleading the doctors, pressing handsome sums of money into their pale, guilty hands, those that had let her slip away. He was begging for a way to bring his eldest daughter, his prized possession, back to him.

Of course, it was quite impossible – for the Deity had taken her life…just as She had taken the young girl's lover…

Today we call it heartbreak, in remembrance of the poor young girl who took her life by her heart when her eternal love was stolen from her.