It would have been a nice ending, if only the value…
It would have been really romantic, a perfect happy ending if only that soul wasn’t so pure and its value so high. Many times people appreciate stones more than pets, climbing plants, or even other human beings.
It seems unbelievable, but I verified how people worship small colored stones. Their value changes as their reflection happens to be pure when encountering light. Many wars and invasions started and still continue worldwide for some shiny bloody rocks.
It’s absolutely unbelievable. Yes, the whole planet is abundant of greyish or whitish stones, but some are rarer than others and inevitably lead to wars. You will find the same kind of inclination for rarity when speaking about pure souls.
How do you determine the value of a soul?
The light it reflects is one factor, but it cannot be only that small characteristics to utterly determine the value of a soul.
Hence, it’s right to ask ourselves what stones and souls have in common. A mineral can be removed from its millenary silent fate and, therefore, be transformed into pure immortality in humans’ eyes.
The doom of a soul isn’t that different, though. As a golden cup jumps from one century to the other, changing from a pair of earrings to a precious ring, so some precious souls do.
They disappear and return again, changing while never in peace. Other kinds just vanish as they were mere dust on a countryside trail. Sometimes, they conclude their journey inside a well, where all the best intentions disappear. As a book to be discovered, each soul is a separate story, its new pages creaking under teenager curious fingers.
That said, what has been the destiny of that comedian soul?
Maybe, a bit of rest, at least. Oh, don’t get me that look, please. Souls need some rest, as everybody else and those which discover love deserve it even more than the others.
Sadly, that wasn’t the destiny awaiting that soul. It shared the same old curse of lands loaded with diamonds, yellow and black gold. It finally became a profitable trade.
Most of the time, this trade involves wars, disasters, famine, slavery, and it’s all but fair. No, I’m not exaggerating at all; it’s more common than you think. Some other time the trade consists of a pledge: you must forget your past and believe in progress.
And what is progress, for a child without peace, if not a fast elevator lead deeper and deeper into the ground?
The comedian’s soul traded its freedom, cursing itself when it decided to speak, revealing its love with a dramatic speech. It was caught by an overzealous dealer of souls, its fate was made mortal one more time.
What is more human than the aim to pack everything inside a box if you think about that?
To reduce everything, even the dreams, into something similar to a tomato sauce can? Who knows, perhaps I’m just a pair of shoes speaking alone in front of a wall, in a night wrapped in silence.
I can feel the breath of this dealer of souls over me, laying over a bed too big for him. Here, just over my laces, I can see the honey-colored blankets going up and down, following a regular secret organ.
Now is asleep, but what a dealer of soul does when is awake?
Better describe him with what is vital for his job: the trade.
If you landed on this page, but you don’t have any clue of what this is all about, please read what is this story about.And remember that this is a bilingual project, so you can read it in English and Italian.
This story has been published once per week from October 2018 to October 2019, with all rights reserved for the story and its translations by Flyingstories 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.