The value of a soul

Il valore di un'anima

The value of a soul

–read in Italian–

–read the previous article–

The value of a soul

It would have been a nice ending

It would have been really romantic, a perfect happy ending if only that souls wasn’t so pure. Many times people appreciate stones more than fluffy animals, climbing plants or even other human beings. It seems unbelievable, but I verified myself how people fall in love with small coloured stones. Their value changes as they’re reflection happens to be pure when encountering light. Wars, invasions started and still continue to happen around the world for some greedy hands having the right to be full of shiny stones. It’s really unbelievable. Certainly you will find grey and white rocks, but if you can find it everywhere it doesn’t make any sense to lose your time searching for it. It’s love for rarity. The same kind of love for scarcity you will find when changing subject and speaking about pure souls. How do you determine the value of a soul? It cannot be only the light to make the value arise.

The value of a soul

Let’s see what stones and souls have in common. You can try to make a stone immortal melting it, setting it or cutting it. A soul follows a similar destiny. A golden cup, jumping from one century to another would change into a pair of earrings and then a ring you proudly show to your friend, or it can just disappear at the bottom of the ocean amongst small fishes unaware of what is happening around. Some souls disappear and return again, others vanish as they never existed. In some rare cases souls change shape, exactly as a golden cup becoming a ring. They can yearn for an existence of pure light as the soul of the actor did, as well as others may become dark wells in which all the good intentions vanish. Each soul is a separate story, a book to be discovered with its new pages creaking under a teenager curious fingers.

The value it’s blinding

In this specific case, all in the room was curious. It’s rare to find such a pure and verbose soul. After its discourse, the soul would probably disappear deep in the bowel of the Earth, becoming a small diamond. Discovered by someone, one day it would start again to run as waking up from a beauty sleep. Souls need to rest sometimes and the brightest one more than the others. It’s not the destiny reserved for this soul. The curse of territories rich of diamonds, gold and petrol is to become themselves a source of trade. Most of the time this exchange is unfair and bring wars and hunger, if not slavery for centuries. Some other time the trade consists of a pledge: forget your past and believe in progress.

The curse

This original soul trade its freedom, cursing itself just to declare its love for a lifeless body. Caught by a overzealous dealer of souls, its fate was made human again. After all, what is more human than the aim to pack everything inside a box? 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. I can feel the breath of this dealer of souls over me, occupying a king size bed honey colour with his body. Reading or listening to this words, someone would be curious about the job of a dealer of souls. Everything starts with a simple idea, the purchase.

The sale

Il valore di un'anima

The value of a soul

Everithing from the air melted in the wind to the water gurgling in the sink is extract- closed- sold- distributed- resold- closed again and resold. Nothing special, we all know this process. Something we usually forget is that we fall in love with the packaging. Our attention is caught by the packet, puffs of light we follow in delight. The matter with souls is similar, even though most of them are happy confined in matchboxes or cookie jars. No one will search there for a soul, if not seeking a curious or introverted soul. Souls can stay so long inside a cookie jar to start being cookies itself. You never know when you’re speaking about souls. For instance, I feel myself a shoe. I think as a shoe, I walk like a shoe and if they ever going to ask me what time is it I will certainly answer with a number between one and six as I have only six laces. It all depends on how long you’ve been living with your body.

The trade

Packaging that make us fall in love, sell our perfect soul for a new one with the same colour but wrapped differently. This is marketing. Souls are predestined to be traded, but it wasn’t always like that. The question of why we need to exchange our soul arrived late in human history. Why we really need to change our soul? It’s easier to bring an example, instead of trying to give a rational explanation.

The stolen soul

Even though is a bad story, it’s not an original one the story of the soul of the actor. In this specific case there is a stolen soul, too but the thief is the father and he stole his own son’s soul. To tell the truth, a soul like that was difficult to find around. Suspicious about the ease with which the small guy was studying and his talent in drawing, the loving father decided to bring him to the doctor for checks. It was with surprise that they react when the Y rays showed the guy’s soul pervaded by tentacles of light. The doctor was straightforward: a soul like that would be really valuable. He kept for himself the thought that it was a waste a gift like that in such a poor family. For the father instead it was as finding a golden mine right under his roof. The question now was how to explain the decision of selling the soul to his son, not even 12 years old. How he could explain that his spirit was just an error, a mistake? Not to mention the law, always really strict when coming to minor souls’ trade.

An insomniac night

After an entire night passed secretly speaking to an old photo of his wife yellowed from the passage of time, the poor man took his decision. It was unnecessary to explain to his son about his destiny, the soul it’s not so important. Yes, they demonstrate its weight and its light, but still there are not sufficient proofs supporting its usefulness. Furthermore, he would never find out its disappearance.  When one fateful morning the doctor called that conscientious father telling him a dealer was ready to spend good money for that soul out of the ordinary, the decision was taken. During the night three drops in a cup filled with milk brought a mortal sleep in the life of that curious boy. The life itself took some hours to get out of the body, to be safely closed inside a mahogany case over the table. The dealer was a man of his word, knowing as well that the ignorance of that man was equal only to his hunger. He bought an incredible soul for nothing, giving back a grey one impossible to sell. When the guy woke up he felt confused and then under a cold fever. Where was the law? The law knows when it’s time to be a falcon and when it’s better to be blind as a bat. That day the luck was blindfolded as the luck that abandoned that poor boy all of a sudden in exchange for a new coat and some shoes.

What is the real value of a soul, then?

Probably it’s better to let a soul go to spread its wings. We all have to survive, no? That particular soul was really useful for a rich heir of the famous G. family. Everyone was so proud of him when he discovered his new talent for piano, he never found it before. In the end nothing changed in his life. His soul peacefully slide into an anonymous life with jogging indoor and fists on the tables. Somewhere a small guy stop drawing, without no apparent reason. Day by day the sense of his life was having just small useless object around and a job able to calm down that cold fever that sometimes made him fall out of bed. There are many different kind of souls, but it’s easier to divide them into mortal and immortal souls. The latter are similar to pictures well done, searched for their originality and frequently never used again. Sealed in amazing cases, as frames, they stay in a state of sleepiness and they live only for the value they put on them, a value bound to grow thanks to the body that possessed the soul itself. This humble pair of shoes is a simple soul of objects. I’ve been a lamp that switch on and off randomly, then a picture jumping from the wall and now I’m a pair of shoes. I want to see it as a promotion, since being close to a living being I’m able to grow some memories. A picture in the wall or a lamp have nothing to tell, always staying still in a room with a nose that approach them or touch some handles. Not always everything seem having a sense. As a painting falling from the wall, as Max Tooney would say.

Finally, we move!

The owner of my feet is turning in his bed and I know what that means. After all this time in closed spaces, now I can run like a true modern man, always in a hurry. He leaves some vital water vapour footprint on the floor and as every morning he weight himself finding only his body weight written in the scale. Without any soul, as all the dealer of souls. But let’s not jump to the conclusion.

–Continue with The dealer 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.

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