Souls!

He walked down the road.

Dreaming, staring at the trees, singing to himself a tune that came from nowhere.

Strangers passing by were confused.

But he didn’t notice. On he went oblivious.

He seemed happy, but he was pondering serious things.

Like truth, meaning and what that craving would be best satisfied by.

Step, step, high notes, step, step, low notes, step, step, stare, stare, step, step, deep pondering, step, step, jazz hands

Needless to say, he was a strange man.

“SOULS!” She screamed, jumping out at him seemingly from nowhere!

“SOULS!” She screamed again, a terrifying bone chilling scream, a mad look in her eye as she stared at him knowingly.

He recoiled in shock.

One, because she was screaming.

Two, because she was pointing at him ominously.

Three, because she was screaming about Souls, and really, hardly anyone does that nowadays.

He was shaken. No one had even screamed at him like that before.

No one had ever blatantly questioned the purity of his soul.

They had, however, questioned his cooking, and his hygiene, but not his soul.

He thought about his sins. All the horrible things he had done. And he was filled with shame and dread.

He hurried away, but her voice echoed in his mind long after that.
He went to confession, yet again, trying to relieve himself of the guilt.

It did not change much.
What is forgiven is already forgiven.

But as he left the church a strange question entered his mind, “Souls? Why plural?”
And he was plunged into further confusion.

She wandered the streets, diligently performing the task that was set to her.

She chose those that needed it, and she screamed at them in her terrifying voice, “SOULS!”

They all hurried away.

But her voice remained with them and they all re-evaluated their lives.

But she was never satisfied.

She continues to this day, searching for weary people, in obvious pain, and trying to sell them insoles.