Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: SOUL / SOLE (03/02/23)
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TITLE: The Only One | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
03/09/23 -
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“Go away, soul snatcher,” he whispered.
His great-grandfather had told him about the silent observer when he could hardly toddle on the soles of his feet. The long line of shoemakers had worked with leather, shaping it just right for the wearer. Of course, the smell around the home wasn’t always great as hides were treated and tanned. Sometimes, the village kids would mock him, holding their noses and telling him to take his stink away.
And so, he became the only one, the sole soul, on many a summer’s day, wandering the woods and listening for the sound of the quiet snatcher, for that is what his great-grandfather had warned him about. The snatcher stole the souls of those who were idle, caring only for their own hearts, focusing on their own dreams and desires. A great emptiness would consume them and they would wander aimlessly, accomplishing nothing.
“This soul is full,” he said loudly. “No room for anything more.”
His grandfather had introduced the family to the vegetable extracts that made their quality shoes waterproof. He knew nothing about how bacterial decay in damp environments by the riverside could make their products deteriorate but he knew that with his grandfather’s invention, the whole village began to stop by. When the headman stood proudly in a pair of his grandfather’s sandals their family fortune was set. Even the bullies stopped their extra hits and kicks as he passed.
When his father took over the business everything changed. An army captain stopped by for shoes and shared a drink of some kind. His father seemed to lap up the new liquid like a thirsty dog. The products produced came back from customers with complaints. The family fortune became less. His father’s voice grew harsh and his arm swung harder than any bully.
“Stay away from me, you empty snake,” he yelled.
And so, in his teens, Innocent had wandered the forest again. The sole soul. Nothing made sense. Hard work had been done but the sinister serpent had slithered into the soul of his father and stolen all the goodness they needed to survive. His mother cried more often than he could count. His sister disappeared without a word. His mother cried more.
In the woods, Innocent began to tan his own hides and fashion the Latin soleae which he knew his friends loved to wear. Slaves were not allowed to wear shoes of any form but he saw the sores on their feet and longed to help.
It was a young girl he helped first when he saw the welts and scabs on her foot. She was whimpering and holding her foot. A thorn had pierced her sole. He knelt, gently extracted it, and then wrapped her foot in the leather he’d worked to suppleness and coated with wool.
The little one stared in wonder at the covering and he could feel her wiggle her toes inside. A giggle replaced the whimper and he felt like a king. Another girl, seeing the joy on her friend’s face sat beside her and held out her feet, both of them.
“You aren’t hurting,” he said.
“I am on the inside,” she answered.
“But I can’t make a shoe for your heart,” he said.
“If you make some for my feet then my heart will feel it,” she said.
Who could argue with that logic? And that was when the line began at his hovel in the forest. Never before had the children of slaves worn shoes but the sole soul healer changed all that.
What the children got the adults wanted but some were too afraid to ask. The townsfolk plagued Innocent’s father with complaints about the work of the son and the father responded by spending more time in the bar. The townsfolk objected for a while until they saw their workers produce more and sing more.
One day the mayor stopped by the hovel in the forest. “You the sole man?” he asked.
“No one else by that name, here, Sir,” he answered.
“I hear good soles heal heavy hearts.”
“One pair coming up,” Innocent said. “Now tell me why your heart is so heavy.”
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