Soul Theory

AUGUST:

Ever since this whole business with the divines and the dastardly started, I’ve begun to care less and less… about anything. Tonight’s moon stares down at me from my bedroom window, and the suburban lights fight for dominion over the sky. I look faintly at the blue light staining my ceiling as I lay restlessly in bed.

Why didn’t I just close the curtains?

With a heavy sigh, I roll off my mattress. My long, burdensome legs follow my command with utmost hesitance. Weary and irritated, I pull the curtain shut like a sliding door. I nearly forgot about the cursed mirror propped up on the wall at my bedside. Why I put it there, who knows? Maybe I just wanted to torture myself. There’s something staring back at me–not my reflection, but a thing. A dark, ominous thing that looms over my shoulder constantly. I don’t know if it ever leaves my side. At the least, it’s always there when I look in the mirror. It’s probably there when I sleep.

I stare into my own eyes blankly, avoiding direct eye contact with my unwanted partner. Those red eyes… they glow so brightly. Where does all that light come from? Surely not from me. I turn and fall back into bed, slamming satisfyingly into the mattress with not an ounce of care for my body.

KIAH:

Hunched forward, though the muscles in my back warn me not to, I stare into the fire. With nothing but the stars above, buildings and a fence around me none of my makeshift family own, I sit atop a foldable chair, one of those fancy outdoor ones with cupholders. I clasp my hands together, my elbows resting on my knees.

“Kiah!”

I pick my head up hastily to the sound of an older woman’s voice.

“Lean back, would you? That’s why we got you that chair in the first place!”

“Heh,” I respond with a guilty smile on my face. “Sorry, Bertha.” I try to conceal a snicker as I lean back into the dense, tarp-like material.

“Ooh, you little brat! Don’t try to hide it! I know you can’t say my name without laughin’.”

Shamelessly, I let out a full chuckle. “So what do you want me to do? Laugh in your face?”

“Don’t say it at all, if you can’t do it seriously!”

After a short pause, I snicker quietly. “…Bertha.”

The large, intimidating woman with unruly, gray hair rises from her seat in outrage. She growls, posed in such a way that she even looks like a bear. Though, a strong hand rests on her shoulder that causes her to look back and her face to soften. She looks at a man who has his eyes shut, calm in his resolve to share his unbothered temperament with her. She sighs, sitting back down.

“Big bro…” A quiet, innocent voice barely reaches my ear amidst the hum of the world.

I glance to my right, where a girl sits in an oversized bean bag that’s stained with dirt.

“Let’s count the stars until we fall asleep.”

I show her a gentle smile. “Okay.”

SHINA:

People are horrible, aren’t they? They kill, rape, and lie. Our species is capable of weaving such intricate delusions, manipulating and hurting others at every whim. You can deny that the world is a horrible place, say it’s “just a place where horrible things happen.” But if the world isn’t a horrible place, why are these things allowed to happen? Over and over again.

I find it interesting… when some say those horrendous people are soulless. If the ones who don’t fall to sin have souls, do they go somewhere when they die? And if the others are just empty husks, would they just… disappear? Like their lives were meaningless from the start? Does a soul keep us in check? Is that why those we might condemn to Hell, act like they have no restraint? Yet, it seems that we all have free-will, even if we were created by an almighty god. But look at this place, Earth has no order. God has left us to fend for ourselves, and those horrible things…

They’ll keep happening.

☘︎︎ ☘︎︎ ☘︎

My mornings always seem to begin with a senseless, inner monologue. Though I relate to a lone wolf in a cage, I’m waiting for a voice to answer—to fill the gaps in between my horde of inquiries—for a voice to validate my theories. I’m still laying in bed when I should be out “enjoying my Summer”. But I should also be trying to prove my worth to facilities that damn our youth to a life of debt, regret, and misery. Oh, what a wonderful life.

“Shina! Why don’t you go to college and make a nice living for yourself?” my mom insists.

Sorry, ma’, but I know better than to take advice from you.

Still, I rise up like a machine, no inclination, just an automatic motion. I put my feet down, let them peruse the microscopic swirls that make up the carpet, and drag them to the bathroom. As I run the faucet, the sound of a little waterfall running is pretty soothing. Screw the water bill. I notice I have the tendency to not make eye contact with myself, to not particularly care for my own presence. I do so this one time, and stare at myself blankly through the mirror.

The bottom half of my hair is freshly dyed cherry-red, while the top half is bleach blonde. I look like an angel cake dipped in a vibrant, fruity syrup, but I’ve gone stale. My septum piercing is small and steel, and the studs that are pinned in my cheeks are supposed to shine in sunlight. Too bad I hardly go outside.

After I change into something slightly more presentable, I make my way towards the front door. I’m sure it’s hot outside, so I probably shouldn’t be wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt. But… I’ve given up on everything–especially any idea of being practical. I do have shorts on, though. Both of my parents are at work, and I wish I didn’t have to be here whenever they inevitably arrive home. They say I’m always welcome, but I know that’s bullshit.

They want me gone, they’ve wanted me gone since I was born. Why else would they ignore me incessantly, while treading along the thin line of what’s legally acceptable? I’d be better off on my own anyway. Hell, I wish I could leave for good, right now. Maybe when I do, I won’t feel like I’m choking on my own breath anymore.

The Sun hits me quickly with a warmth I never asked for, and blinds me with no sympathy. Walking down the streets I hear the people, I know they’re there, but I don’t see them. I guess that makes me sound heartless, but to be fair, most people are worthless. I look up, only to cross the street, and notice a nauseating billboard for perfume of all things. My eyes widen at the sight. Not because the models are beautiful, but because one has an angel beside her, and the other, a demon.

Society keeps on going like nothing’s changed. Good ol’ capitalism running its gears. Who would’ve thought, after just 8 years, people would be parading their demonic counterparts around? And in advertisements no less… Some people are even feeling left out!

Being demon-held or angel-bound became so common, so fast, the public had no choice but to accept it. This is our new reality. I’m sure there are religious troupes and scientists scrambling to their feet right now. Who knows when we’ll get any real answers. In the meantime, I’m pretty content with just being normal. After all, being normal is the new weird. I’d say one third of the population is still only human, one third is demon-held, and one third angel-bound.

Suddenly, some kind of glimmer, followed by a feeble yelp, sparks in the corner of my eye. Turning my head curiously sideways, my lips part for a gasp that stays caught in my throat.

Seriously? In broad daylight? The sight makes my blood boil... There’s a woman with a glittery headband being jostled around by a couple of guys in the street. One slaps her, greeting the side of her face with a brick wall as she stumbles backward, and the other rummages through her purse.

What the hell?! My eyes dart here and there frantically, on every square of the sidewalk, on every face that gives the tell of a bystander. It looks like some people are calling the cops, but no one can be bothered to make a move themselves…

I take a step forward, I suppose instinctively, though I’m trapped on the other side of the street. Between me and that woman are a line of cars trotting steadily past like mechanical cattle at feeding time. I see one bystander attempt to intervene, but one of the scumbags pulls a weapon on him. The bystander steps back in trepidation, and I catch a glimpse of a faint figure behind him. It disappears like a ghost. Fucking angels. They’re useless cowards.

“Tsk.” The poor woman’s calling for help and the people only a few feet away from her are getting farther.

Shit. She’s being dragged into that alleyway! My bones feel like they’re on fire. I’m so apprehensive, I feel stuck in stone... but I have to move, don’t I? C’mon, Shina. Do something! Don’t be like them!

Fine. I’ll run. I’ll run so fast that cars’ horns and their screeching brakes whisk past me.

I willingly sprint with the luck of my ankle just skimming under the bumper of a blurry SUV. An orchestra of whining tires and angry honks crescendos around me, and everything in this moment is so clear, yet so surreal. I seem to catch the assailants off-guard with my impulsiveness. I find myself clutching the collar of a grimey, cotton shirt in my fist. If only I could squeeze the life out of him that way. I do my damndest to shove him backward, and promptly turn to face the other piece of shit. My knee aches to hurl itself upwards and scoldingly slam into this guy’s groin. But—

“No!” A panicked voice rings out.

I suddenly feel cold, shocked, immobile. What is this pain? Looking down, my perception starts to shake, and lines twist and pull toward the center, an ominous vignette closing in around it. I feel myself falling. Did I get him? I feel myself fading away into a bitter slumber, until I’m shaken by a heavy jab at my back.

“Eugh!” I grunt, my spine cracking as it’s forced inwards and my torso reflexively bends. I realize now, that I’m on the ground, my joints faintly throbbing amongst more alarming sensations. I try to take a breath, but it’s interrupted by another pound to my abdomen. I cough. Reluctantly, my eyes open to a squint, just as a dirty boot shoves itself in between my lips, knocking against my teeth. Then, I hear a terribly obnoxious sound that sends a shiver down my crumpled spine. It’s an unnatural, or even supernatural, impish laughter. Fucking demons. How stereotypical.

Soon, blood and dingy grime are all I can taste, as my eyes pinch shut to push out the tears. Again, and again, relentless kicks slam into either side of me. Every sound besides the ringing in my ears sounds so distant. I try hard not to whimper, as the voice I heard before cries out:

“Stop! Stop it! Stop it!”

It has to stop… Why does it feel like forever? It’s just, pain, pain, and more pain! It hurts! It really… fucking hurts! I can’t think, I can’t move! I grit my teeth and groan as hot tears start to stream from my eyes. There’s no point in breathing, as the air keeps getting knocked from my lungs. It feels like my ribs are grating against them. It feels like my organs would pop if I stopped flexing the muscles around them.

Maybe if I hold my breath long enough… I’ll just die. I’ve always wanted that, secretly. Though I never had anyone to tell… No one I knew would share that desire rather than send me to a psych ward.

I hear half a scream as that stranger must’ve suffered an attack. Now they’ve gone quiet, save for a grunt and a whimper as I assume they’ve begun to cry… And finally… I can hear sirens.