The Soul Inside the Jar

The Soul Inside the Jar

Once upon a time there was a girl who wandered the forest with a jar in her hand. She was young and frail with long thin blond hair flowing in the wind and a dress, just as thin, flowing around her body. Her face wasn't as bony as you would expect for such a small girl, and in fact it was hauntingly pretty. Her blue eyes looked everywhere for the home of the jar's contents. It was important. God said it was important. He told her that inside the jar was a special magical essence called a “soul” and it needed a place to rest. This lovely girl thought of herself as a shadow, and everyone knows shadows don't have souls, so she set about on a journey to find a resting place for the soul. She came upon a woman near a waterfall, weeping, and touched her shoulder. The woman looked up, tears running down her eyes like the water ran over the rocks behind her. The girl saw that she was not a shadow or a ghost, though she had no energy. She wondered if the soul would give this woman energy, and if the woman would give the soul a place to rest.

She held out the jar and asked “do you think this is your soul?” But the woman turned away and cried all the harder, with tears that seemed to wash away her life.

“No,” she said, “it's not my soul. I don't deserve a soul for I gave mine away long ago.”

“Well then, come with me and help me find a resting place for this soul. This waterfall is beautiful but there's so much more to the forest. Come with me, we can always return here when we need to.”

The woman got up slowly. It had been more than twenty years since she moved about of her own free will. Her body was stiff and her muscles hurt. She was tired, but she rose up and followed the girl, curious to see if she could help find a resting place for the soul in the jar. They traveled along a path through the forest, looking for the resting place of the soul, as God had said. Before long they found a demon-man. He was chopping down a tree with hacksaw, and so intent was he on his work that he didn't even know they approached. The girl and the woman were both a little fearful of him, so strong and tall and potent he was. They stood and watched him for a short while, and suddenly he turned and looked at them.

“I felt you! What do you want?” He thundered.

“Do you think this is your soul?” the little girl asked, holding out the jar for him to see.

The demon-man laughed at the question. He laughed until he was crying and holding his stomach. “My soul??!!?” he bellowed. “Do I think that is my soul????!!! I'm part demon, stupid girl. I lost my soul to fire in a time I don't even remember, so long ago was that. It's not my soul, my soul has burned to ashes.” His laughter subsided and a grimace took his smile's place on his red and tough face. It softened a little. “It's not my soul.” he whispered.

“Well, we're trying to find a resting place for it. God told us it's a soul and that it needs a place to rest.” The little girl took hold of the woman's hand, a gesture not lost on the demon-man. “This forest can be dangerous,” the little girl said. “Will you come with us and perhaps your strength and power will scare away the creatures that would harm us?” She looked at the tree he was cutting down. “You can always return to you task when we are done, or you get bored.”

The demon-man looked at the hacksaw and at the tree. He'd been cutting the tree for so long he didn't even remember why he was cutting. He only knew he was compelled to cut and that the job never seemed to get done no matter the force he used or the strength he spent. “All right,” he said, “ I'll come with you. I'll help you find a resting place for the soul in the jar.”

And off they went, down the path in the forest, all three of them. Before long they came upon twins, a man and a woman. The woman was solid and plump, with rosy cheeks and a smile on her face. The man looked just like her, only like a male version, and was taller and thinner. He carried no emotion. He was sitting on a log watching the woman play with some forest critters. She had a few squirrels, a raccoon, and a fawn in front of her, and she was trying to teach them to read. The forest critters paid attention, then scampered about, then came back, then ran off again. The woman just laughed and kept to her lessons despite the antics of her class. It was all a game, and it made the little girl laugh and the woman smile.

The rosy cheeked woman greeted the three strangers warmly, though she was unsure of them. “Well, friends” she said, “what a lovely jar. What have you in there?”

“A soul,” said the weeping woman. “The little girl is looking for a resting place for it.”

“A soul!” The thin man and rosy cheeked woman both exclaimed together. “We were born without souls, and have been trying to earn one.”

“Maybe this is it,” the little girl said, holding out the jar.

The thin man shook his head and the rosy cheeked woman just laughed. “We haven't earned our soul yet, child. We have much work to do before we can have a soul.”

At that moment, the jar began to shake. The little girl, in fear, placed the jar on the ground. She grabbed for the hand of the weeping woman, who grabbed for the hand of the rosy cheeked woman, who took the hand of the thin man, who clasped the hand of the demon-man, who placed his hand in that of the little girl. The were in a circle around the shaking jar, and they themselves shook with fear and even a little excitement. As they touched each other a deep magic began to flow through them, deeper even than the magic of the God who set the little girl on this mission. The magic was sadder than the weeping woman's tears, stronger than the demon-man's strength, more joyful than the rosy cheeked woman's laughter, and quieter than the thin man's emotionless face. The magic was as frail as the little girl and as thin as her dress and as pretty as her face. It moved among them and through them and around them. It shook the jar until the jar began to break into pieces.

All of a sudden, with a whoosh and great beating of wings a number of tiny birds emerged from the jar. The birds flew straight into the air, and around the circle of magic, and in between the soul-less wanderers. There were white birds, and grey birds, and bright birds of yellow and red. There were green birds with orange wings and blue birds that matched the sky. As they flew around the magic circle they seemed to settle, one on each of the wanderer's heads and one on top of each of the trees and one upon the rocks and one for each of the critters that scampered about. The wanderers were holding tight to each others hands and looking up at the birds above their heads as each of the birds folded their wings and fell right into the wanderers themselves! The little girl who thought she was just a shadow became real as she held the hands of the others. The weeping woman whose life had washed away with tears had eyes that no longer cried, but gleamed with a new life. The demon-man found a new direction for his strength, one not bent toward destruction but rather one that protected. The thin man smiled, for his little bird helped him feel happy. The rosy cheeked woman's mouth was wide open in surprise and wonder, for she realized she no longer had to earn that for which she yearned.

“Why, it's not like I expected at all!” cried the little girl. “I don't know if God deceived me or if I misunderstood what He was saying! The jar held my own soul, and yours, and yours, and it was a deep magic that brought us together in this place to release them.” Still holding hands, the troupe of wanderers laughed and cried all together and all at the same time, their souls now resting inside.