Body vs. Soul

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Body and soul struggle in an epic battle.

Submitted: October 12, 2018

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Submitted: October 12, 2018

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I was sitting at the corner coffee shop, drinking my morning latte, when my body decided to rebel against my soul.  I felt a sudden tingling sensation in my feet that crept up my legs and eventually engulfed my entire frame. My hands started to shake uncontrollably, and the latte spilled out all over my jeans, causing me to shriek and jump up.  Though, oddly enough, when I jumped up, my body stood still, rooted to the chair. I turned around and looked down at my body wondering what the hell was happening. My body stared back up at me with a grimace. I quickly sat down to try and force my soul back into my body, and that’s when it got violent.  

My body stood up and thrust the chair over backward with me still in it.  I went sprawling. At least I thought I did, but I felt nothing as I skidded along the floor.  My body grabbed a pot of hot coffee from a nearby waitress and hurled it at me. I instinctively braced myself for the impact but felt nothing as the coffee passed right through me.  Before I could recover from the shock of having my own body attack me, he had turned on his heels and bolted out the door. I was so dumbfounded that I couldn’t react.

I looked around in wonder, trying to process the whole situation.  Everyone in the shop was looking after my body as it ran down the street and turned the corner.  A man next to me said, “What a jerk,” and the waitress picked up the chair and began cleaning up.  She was practically kneeling on top of me as she wiped up the spilled coffee. Everyone else went back to reading their papers and eating their breakfast.  

“Hey,” I said meekly, but, although I could hear myself, no one even looked in my direction.  So I yelled, “Hey!!” Again, nothing.

I got up and looked down at my spirit self. I was no longer clothed in the suit and tie I had been wearing but in flowing white robes. All my essential parts were still there--torso, arms, legs, hands, feet--but they all had a translucent quality. Everything seemed to be functioning normally, so I headed toward the door.  I reached out my arms to push it open but I just passed right through it and onto the crowded sidewalk. People walked through me as I looked down the street for my body. Finally, I spotted him and took off after myself.

Once I was moving, I quickly realized that physics didn’t apply to my soul the same way they did to my body. Although my legs were moving, I never felt any impact on the ground or wind resistance.  I was floating like a hovercraft. It was an odd sensation, kind of like running on a treadmill inside a moving train. I found that even if my legs stopped moving, that my will moved me in any direction I chose.  I rose above the crowd to get a better view. I floated faster and faster until I caught up to my body who was now walking and out of breath.

“Leave me alone, Frank,” he said when I alighted next to him.

“You can see me?” I said.

“Of course I can.  You’re my soul, idiot.”  He turned the corner and I followed.

“Where are you going,” I said.

“Anywhere you’re not,” he retorted.

“I don’t understand.  Why this sudden rebellion.  I’ve always been good to you, kept you in shape, treated you well.”

He snorted.  “Treated me well?  I want to live, Frank.  I want to get out and interact, meet new friends.  Maybe have a date once in a while, hold hands, even have sex.  I feel like I’m in a hamster wheel with the routine you’ve got going--wake up, go to the coffee shop, work all day, eat the same baloney sandwich for lunch, home, gym, bed. Uh uh.  It stops now.”

I was starting to get a little angry at the ingratitude. I had always taken care to exercise, eat nutritiously, and keep him clean, all of which were apparently being taken for granted.  Still, he did have a point about the sex.

“I’m just in a rut.  I can do better. It’s just that ever since . . .”

“A rut?  Wake up, Frank.  She’s not coming back.  It’s over. I want to hear you say it.”  He stopped in his tracks and stared me straight in the eye.  “Say it,” he said again.

I could feel my whole countenance drop, and I couldn’t hold his gaze.  I guess I could still feel dejected, even as a spirit.

“That’s what I thought.  See, Frank, I can’t go on like this.  Just leave me alone, ok? Think of yourself as free now.”  He headed down the street again, and this time I let him go.

I had been with Cassandra for nine years, married for seven.  Now, my time with her seemed like another life, but I could still remember the way she smelled like purple lavender and honeysuckle, and I could still hear her laughter and picture her smile as we lay in bed together in each other’s arms, talking about the family we would soon have.  

But after the baby had miscarried, it was never quite the same.  There were no more smiles, and no more laughter. The last thing she said to me before she walked out the door, with tears in her eyes, was, “I have to figure this out on my own.  Don’t hate me.” I hadn’t seen her since.

I tried to clear the memory from my mind and focus on my current situation.  I spent the next few hours contemplating what had occurred, and how I could deal with it.  Was I really “free” as my body had suggested? On the one hand, it was liberating not feeling tired or hungry, but on the other hand, I realized that I still wanted to experience life. I wasn’t ready to give up and enter into an eternal rest.  There were too many things I had left undone. I had to find a way to get my body back.

It was a little over three days before I found him.  I had checked my home and the office multiple times, but it became clear to me that he wouldn’t come back to those places.  Fortunately, as a spirit, I was able to travel from place to place in a blink of any eye, and eventually I found him at a nightclub downtown called Angel or Devil.

I decided not to make my presence known to him right away, but to follow him and see if I could learn how to take him over again.  For the next week and a half, I was witness to the most repulsive display of debauchery I could imagine. He cleared out my bank accounts, partied all day and night, drinking constantly, smoking pot, snorting cocaine, going home with a different woman every night.  

I knew that if I didn’t intervene soon, I wouldn’t have a body to go back to.  He had passed out in the living room of his latest paramour, with her passed out next to him.  It was a disgusting sight. I went over next to his ear and yelled as loud as I could, “Frank!!!”  He didn’t budge. I continued to yell until finally, frustrated, I kicked him as hard as I could in the belly.

Surprisingly, I felt something as my foot passed through him, and he obviously did to, as he woke up sputtering and doubling over in pain.  After he had composed himself a bit, he looked up and saw me standing over him. “Ah, Frank,” he said with a smile. “I knew you’d show up eventually.”

“You can’t go on like this, Frank.  This isn’t living. You keep on like this, you’re going to end up dead in a gutter somewhere.”

He laughed, “Thanks for looking out for me,” he said, and I almost thought he was sincere.  He got up and sat on the sofa, looking at nothing in particular. After a long moment, he said, “You’re right, you know.  People without souls, they tend to self-destruct. Some more than others. I don’t think I’ve reached the end yet, but it’ll happen soon.  But, you know, you can put a stop to all of this. All you need to do is say the words, Frank. Easy as that.”

I looked down at him with trepidation.  I stared deep into his eyes, which were now black as pitch whereas before they had been green.  I could see that he was capable of much worse, and what I saw frightened me. I had to forget about her, I had to let her go, for my sake and for his.

“She’s gone,” I said. “She’s never coming back.”

 



© Copyright 2020 Connor Rasmussen. All rights reserved.

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