Photo by Sandra Crook
Souls come to me. Some blacker than the inside of midnight, others so bright they dim the light of stars.
From the beginning of time, we each stored them in the manner we saw fit.
Father kept souls in driftwood. Grandfather stored them inside tiny grains of sand.
Feathers. Leaves. Moss.
Each generation has a plan better than the last.
I chose shells, for they come in different shapes and sizes.
Small ones for babies, spiked ones for mean old men.
Sadly it ends here. There is no next generation.
I sweep up my collection and throw it into the sea.
Up From the Ashes 
Poignant. I like the idea of keeping the souls in shells. And even the soul keeper will be out of work when we’re all gone.
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True that! Also, this is the last soul keeper. Who knows what will happen to our souls. Thanks, Iain.
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for some reason, the image of the expensive ring going into the sea (from Titanic) came to mind as I read that last line.
And I enjoyed this part:
“Each generation has a plan better than the last.”
and then this WAS the last
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Actually, that was a locket but I get the idea. Thanks for noticing this was the last Soul Keeper. Things may go a bit off-kilter from now on.
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Thx
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This sounds like the beginning of a novel. A mystery of how she finds the next generation.
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There is no next generation. She has no children. Thanks for wondering.
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I got that she had no children. I thought there might be a hunt for someone. I know this is flash fiction. I was just saying it’s a good beginning.
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Oh, good! Thanks. I’m glad that came across.
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For some reason I can’t open your story ~ will try again later.
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Sorry about that. Sometimes computers like to act up.
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Magical and dark
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🙂 Thanks for stopping by, Neil.
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This is very poignant. Very beautifully written.
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Thanks so much!
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I like the idea of the storing of souls. A poignant tale.
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If we do have souls, it seems like they should go somewhere! I think inside nature would be a great place. Thanks.
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Dear Lish,
A rather bleak and surreal bit of fiction. Nicely written and well imagined.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Bleak-is-Me lately. Perhaps because the rainy season has hit the PNW. On the other hand, I love the rain. Thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment. Cheers, dear.
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This is very well done. Thank you for this. I’d have loved to know more about the narrator, which is mission accomplished for such a short micro-fiction. Lovely.
Na’ama
If you are interested, here’s mine: https://naamayehuda.com/2018/10/03/the-gift/
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Thanks so much! I appreciate your kind words.
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What purpose does her job serve. Is she someone each of us shall have to meet on his death bed.?
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Indeed! Thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment.
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A mysterious and enchanting art will soon be lost forever to the world. Sad 😦
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Indeed it will. Thanks
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Assigning memories to artefacts preserves our past and those ideas were succulently described. The sad turn of anger at the end was almost like a scream; Who is left to carry on – no one.
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Exactly. The generations end here. Thanks for the idea of an almost silent scream.
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Loved this, Alicia! Really moving, flowed beautifully and creates such imagery. Let’s hope it’s not too late.
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Thanks, Sandra. And thanks for an easy picture to write about. 🙂
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You’ve written a lovely story, Lish, albeit a very sad one. It can be read on several levels, from the tribal to the global. Sometimes when things are at their darkest a miracle happens and there is regeneration. I hope so in this case. But sometimes the end really is the end, and that is tragic.
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I hadn’t realized how many levels until I started reading comments. That’s often the most fun part, how others interpret what been written. Thanks.
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Loved this, but I read ‘no next generation’ as being quite ambiguous, which added to the dark potency of the piece.
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Thanks very much.
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Next generation is soul less!
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Ha! Or, they have lots of soul but nowhere to keep it.
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A bit chilling at the end – what’s going to happen to us when we die, or are we the final generation? Nice one!
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Thanks. This just might be the end …
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So she is the only one left. The sole soul keeper (sorry Alicia couldn’t resist).
On a more serious note, a very mysterious and dark tale. Nice one.
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Ha! Thanks for reading and leaving a fun comment.
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Hearing this loud and clear. One day, I woke up, realized there was no one to ‘pass’ things to. That day, I went through the house like a storm. I took a room filled with “stuff” to charity, and kept only a small cedar box of things that were very special to me. I’ve endeavored every since ‘not’ to collect ‘things’. I figure when I go, the less that has to be trashed the better.
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I’m with you on that. In fact, today I’m taking about five bags and boxes to donate to the Assistance League. Bye-bye unneeded stuff.
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The end coming in the end… somehow also the end in the sea seems fitting (though sad).
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I think ending in the sea would be rather soothing ~ if it were just my soul. Drowning scares the daylights out of me. Thanks, Bjorn.
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Alicia, this was wonderful. The idea of saved souls, good and bad, scattered all around. Now I really wonder why there is no next-gen (or did I just not see it?).
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No, you didn’t miss it. Perhaps I will continue the thought in the next FF story. Thanks (P.S. what is the name of your blog and story? I always look for “faces” in the little squares and I don’t see yours anywhere. You’re so good about reading my stories and I would like to reciprocate.)
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Tale Spinning is the blog. Today’s title is When Nature Calls, #34
https://stuartnager.wordpress.com/ is the main address.
I don’t post my face for this: I use the pic of the day.
Hope you enjoy my story
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I will check it out. Thanks!
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I’ll just echo everyone else and say this was wonderfully done! And sad and dark and interesting…
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Thanks, you!
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What an interesting unknown layer you have added to our world. I understand from the comments above, that this was the last soulkeeper, but it also could read as a lamentation on a recent world catastrophe, which annihilated the( human?) race. This reads beautifully like poetry and I love the untroubled-higher-power worldview.
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Thank you very much. It can be read either way ~ which didn’t occur to me at 6:00 am when I wrote this.
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I’m left imagining all those souls learning to sink or swim. The imagery is rich here, and leaves us to wonder if any of those souls die.
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Or if they move to another place? Souls are an interesting concept, to begin with. Thanks.
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Your opening line is perfect. ‘blacker than the inside of midnight’ – what a wonderful expression.
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Thanks! It’s a line from the novel I’m working on. So pleased you like it. Alicia
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too bad her collection went for naught. perhaps some denizens in the ocean could use them for something else.
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Oh! I like that idea
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I love that image, of the generations of soul keepers thinking of different receptacles for the souls – just gorgeous. And such a poignant thought, them all being lost to the sea. Lovely writing and beautifully imaginative, Lish
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Thanks so much, Lynn.
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My pleasure
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Oh my, no next generation for the soul keeper. A lovely poignant story. Well done!
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Thanks, Brenda!
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And what becomes of the soul keeper when there are no more souls. Dismal story nicely told.
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They get to rest? Thanks for reading and commenting.
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Wow. Great piece. Very gripping. And a clever end. I love the idea of sending them into the sea
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Thanks, Laurie. It seems like a peaceful place to “retire.”
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A bit disconcerting thinking of all those souls bobbing along in the sea.
You’ve written a very visual story (at least for me). 🙂
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Thanks, Dawn. A bit of sea-bobbing, among whales and dolphins, might be a wonderful way to go.
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Sad to imagine the keepers of souls won’t continue. Wonderful idea for she shapes and purpose of shells.
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Thank you for stopping by. Always good to see you.
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So, this is the end of the line. How sad.
But beautifully written.
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Yep! But at least we’ll all be inside gorgeous shells unless you’re a grumpy old man. Thank you, Lish
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