The dealer of souls

Il venditore di anime

The dealer of souls

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The dealer of souls

Why the most strange job, between all jobs?

They call it a job! Working has a sense only if you wake up in the morning angry and tired in the morning. Make the bread or the ham, make the cheese or sell and buy, to weight and using instruments, tools. That is something which makes complete sense to be called a job. Practice a profession must be a synonym of pain. Anxiety for the sleep or lack of sleep, for the money that are going to finish soon, or just to have an unsatisfied but peaceful smile in the evening, with the face on a second hand pillow. The bed, always the bed. All the conjectures, all the lies and extortion of this world seem to turn around this non- problem. People suddenly recollect shrivelled memories, tell lies and give gift.

But, why?

All to put our root on the ground, or if we want to be less romantic and more pragmatic, we can change a letter and we can search for a roof. As they say, a roof over your head at least! First of all a bed to sleep and then a roof to cover us as a blanket or to contain us as a prison. Then a bed can be seen as well as fun, trying out how to make life or the last piece of world we see before closing our eyes for the last time. For all this purposes a mattress is more than enough, as is more than enough a job. This message is real, fixed and rewrote thousands of times as a nursery rhyme you must memorise. The cerebral cortex gets soaked with this message, and it’s impossible to get rid of it. It’s like a spider, nestled in the dark and ready to eat seeds of dreams, fantasies flicker of light, sprouts of divergence. I’m really sorry when I see characters mislead by the value of their soul or their expensive attic ready to teach live lessons to silent ranks of artists, dreamers, clouds people. But then I realise this is exactly the world in which I walk or they let me walk every day. They said shoes are still free to dream. My only recognised task is to keep my sole attached and don’t lose my laces.

Sorry for that

Shoes then are easily forgot on summer, replaced by reversed Y devices able to make you stumble every step. It seems it works like that. In one side steadiness seems the only way to keep stay alive, but in the other side the irrationality is what let people still shiver, with some fresh air passing through the toes. I wish you can forgive a grumpy pair of shoes and you keep going, I just needed to vent. The difference between an outburst and a complaint is minimal, but I know steps enough to know when is right to stop. From the bottom is easier to see a different world made of old- fashioned underwear, socks and smiles with coffee stains. It’s easier to see imperfections, hitch that only the case of your feet seems to sense.
Shoes seem to live, but it’s real life this one? And it’s a real job the one the artist promise to make between naps? Maybe they can even write and speak, too. But that doesn’t make them having a job, right? Speaking about shoes, all right. Artists are not even taken into consideration, they are just names able to let people raise their hair brows with curiosity.

Friendship

Friendship is as much as important as bread and a job. Essential, for whom like to find moral basic rules in his own life. Some people needs to have rules to be under control, or just to mask himself. Friendship are like small piece of liquorice plant. Not always the sweetest one you chew it will be the best choice. Sometimes the sour one is going to give us more satisfaction, making our teeth whiter and removing dental caries from our worries. In a world in which people is selling their own souls for a job in a post office, it’s really important to make good friends.

Artists?

Il venditore di anime

Il venditore di anime

Why a teenager has to have acquaintances as such? Artist, always at the margin of society for good, people without a sense even putting on a shirt as always grandpa used to say, his soul rest in peace. Not exactly peace, S. grandpa’s soul bought by a young rich Chinese designer of small dresses for dogs. The market have never been so favourable, kept repeating S.’s father every couple of hours. Why on earth a son with all the good cards in hand to be a great dealer, decided to dream about being an actor? Between artists are the unlucky ones, besides the small group of cinema actors. Even so, they have a soul with no value.

Repetita Iuvant

Who really want to have the soul of whom to survive has to go on stage, selling his soul not even to afford the famous roof. The discourse was quite smooth, evidently. Slow as a drop falling over a stone, this idea step by step get through S.’s head, cutting hairs and dreams and swept away by an old broom. At 18 it was time to grow up as a man and follow dad, grandpa’s and so many other family’s footstep. Generations over generations having the head well screwed on and the all dreams safely locked. And also generations of rubber smiles, endless roads to beat up and new techniques in order to unpick some fabric from puppets- customers.

First soul sell

So here we are, with a rucksack over the shoulders and a soul to sell. Someone said the grandpa helped him with his firs sell, and so the copper merchant didn’t argue about the price. Even thought the first soul was gone, S. needed a new soul in order to work. One day, promised to himself putting the hood over his head, he will buy his soul back. Average souls are easy to find and it’s useless to spend so much for it. As a matter of fact, for a dealer is better to have a mediocre soul to better understand the value of the others. Anyways it would be useless to be attached to this soul, its destiny being enclosed forever inside a small box with the size of a book.

A shop of souls

It was a normal Friday evening and outside was raining a dirty juice of clouds, splashing from the feet in light grey shadows. Puffs of cold and warm air joined for a second appearing and disappearing as it was a lighthouse. From the first and the last step you couldn’t count more than two kilometres and suddenly stopped in front of an entrance. The store sign made clear he arrived to his destination, stating “O. And sons_we buy souls”.
Even though a broker of souls and a soul shop seem to be in a complete anthitesys it’s quite the opposite. One set the price and selling privately only the most valuable souls. The shops of souls do the minimum. They show pledged souls as well as souls that belong to poor people, prisoners and in general losers you can find in every society. The kind of people that are not entitled to have a soul for themselves, apparently. Souls are shown mostly randomly, with small descriptions wrote on the boxes sometimes really frightening as “light, child, never used”, “artist, good for cooking”, “grey soul, for dealers”. Bingo, that was the soul s. was waiting.

Souls and stars

the soul inside is less valuable than the case itself. This is exactly the situation. However even if registered and weighted a soul is still something you cannot fully understand. Sometimes it’s searching a new body to grow, other times it has a sudden rejection crisis, but what we know for sure is that is a light coming from past and future at the same time, as the stars. In other words, a soul as the stars is not able to live in the present time, not sure if it’s part of a body or floating around in the multitude of substances of which the Universe is composed. Almost never a soul is able to dance that dance sinuous and elegant in the present time.
The story starts like that, in the most common way. Father to son, they continue the same work confident that the small curly hairs last come will follow the path. If the life was so easy, you wouldn’t have the eyes on this pages.

—Continues next week with The store of Souls—

What is this story about?–

This story will be published once per week only, with all rights reserved for the story and its translations by Flyingstories.org and in the person of Daniele Frau.

All the graphics are handmade and designed with different techniques by Gabriele Manca, DMQ productions, who reserves all rights. 

All English articles published in Souls (alive) proofread by Elisabeth Corcoran

Daniele Frau

Daniele Frau is a translator and content writer living in Dubai and coming from an amazing Italian island, Sardinia.

One thought on “The dealer of souls

JonathanPosted on  12:17 pm - Dec 12, 2018

Really? I discovered this story by chance, searching for a way to study Italian. That’s interesting, keep going!

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