Short (long?) story excerpt/brief outline I’m working on.
In Sir Alistair Gavell’s Book of Told and Untold Secrets, souls are described as being, and I quote, ‘…the patterns to unique quiddities which have been left behind—lost, as it were, to the infinite and unkind hands of indomitable time. They are pieces of existence, the unfinished pearls lacking a shell to rest in, the dark remains from fallen light. They are, in essence, the undulating memory of someone or something which used to be, but is no more, and never shall be again.’
Souls are not so mysterious–nor enchanting–as Sir Alistair makes them out to be. They are far more rugged, more jagged and torn along the edges. Some are beautiful, though all have their scars; while some can be quite ugly and nasty.
Others…others are almost terrifying.
There are light souls, as light as a feather and the color of melted gold and silver.
There are heavy souls, heavy as a millstone and the color of crimson blood and spilled ink.
There are in-between souls, which don’t know whether to be light or heavy, gold or red, silver or black. We call them Neithers, because they are neither one nor the other, neither light nor dark. These are the most common, the most ordinary.
But there is also a certain breed of soul which is so white it burns your eyes and weighs nearly nothing in your palm, shimmering with all the light of eternity, and there is its opposite: a soul that is so black it consumes all light and weighs more than a handful of mountains. These are the most rare. They are also the most dangerous.
I would know. I have spent the past seven centuries searching for them.
Joined at the Authorship 