A Decent Soul (1st Draft)

A Decent Soul



         "Gather 'round all you fine men and ladies, for a story I will tell."

         Everyone in the bar stops their conversations and stares at the elderly man sitting in the corner. 

         "What's with him?" A young man whispers to the bartender.

         "Don't worry, he does this from time to time," says the bartender.

         "All you men, grab a fresh brew, and the ladies some fine wine, for this is an important story, and you should not wish to miss any word I say."

         The old man has a fresh beer delivered to his table.  He lights a cigarillo and puffs away on it as he speaks, stopping only to take an occasional sip of beer.

         "This story, my friends, is about a small village in Germany, but that's beside the point.  The village could have been anywhere, what's important is the three old men, and one young lady they will meet. 

         "It was a damn hot day, and the blazing sun shone down on the three wayfaring wanderers as they trudged down the dusty trail.  All three of the old coots had long, heavy beards, which were once white, but had since been grayed with constant exposure to a world of filth.  They were on a long journey, one which took them all over the planet, to every little village and hamlet.  Did I mention that this was quite some time ago?  Let's say our story took place - - - damn, over a millennium ago I believe.  And the men, they were not normal men, but gods!  You may ask, 'why the hell did the gods come to our earth?', well my inquisitive friend, they came for the only purpose worthy of the gods, to find a decent human soul.

         "They had been walking the fertile soil for many years, too many to count, and they were nearing the end of their journey.  There was but one small village left to visit, and the name of it was Eugen.  So as these gods walked along, just outside the village, one of them, the one in red, began to sing.  He sang: 'I know dark clouds will gather o'er me, I know my pathway's rough and steep, But golden field lie out before me, where weary eyes no more shall weep'.  Now my friends, I cannot possibly do justice to the sound of his angelic voice, so you must excuse me.

         "Another of the men, the one dressed in purple, cut him short before he could continue.  He said: "How can you remain so optimistic in a time like this?" Which was a legitimate question at this time.  Remember, they had been all over the world, and had yet to find a decent soul.  With that  being said, the god in purple was always pessimistic, some would say nihilistic regarding humanity.  The one in red did not respond, he merely hung his head in silence, for he had no answer.  The god dressed in gold, who was the one who initiated the quest, spoke in a soft voice, trying to comfort the others. He said: 'Brothers, I have a feeling that here we will find our good soul.' The others, not wishing to upset the most highly respected member of their party, said nothing.

         "As they entered the town, they went about their usual routine, trying to find a place of refuge for the night.  They walked from door to door, and with every knock came another excuse. 'Sorry, my son is ill' said one, 'sorry, we haven't any spare room' said another.  And this went on and on, from house to house, until they happened upon the last house in town.  The god in gold knocked on the door, and a young woman answered.  Her name was Helen, and she was a whore.  I don't mean that in a negative way, but times were hard, and taking part in the world's oldest profession was the only way she could feed herself.  Without even thinking, she invited the men in. 

         "She fed them with the last of her potatoes and beef fat, and after dinner she offered her bed to them.  The gods slept on the bed, while Helen slept on the floor.  Truly an act of charity my friends!  Not to offend anyone, but giving away her last food meant she would have to work more than usual the following days.  But that was a sacrifice she was willing to make for three strangers.

         "In the morning, she found the bed empty.  The only things that remained were three robes, one red, one purple, and one gold, as well as a note.  The note read: 'Helen, we are gods, and were on a quest to find a decent human soul.  We believe that soul is you.  While we must return home, we leave these robes as a gift.  They are made of the finest silk in the world, and should fetch a handsome sum if sold.'

         "Helen, quite shocked at this series of extraordinary events, began to cry.  With the money from the robes she could finally stop whoring, and become the legitimate person she always wanted to be.  But things are never that easy, are they?"

         The old man waves his hand at the bartender, who promptly brings him a fresh beer.  He strikes a match and lights another cigarillo.  The people in the bar are all listening intently as he continues to speak.

         "Now where was I?  Oh yes.  Helen promptly sold the robes for a large amount of money, more than a person like her could spend in a years, as she was the frugal type.  Wanting to do more with her money, and not wanting to ever have to return to a life of whoring, she decided the best course of action would be to open a shop.  But what kind?  Tobacco was not her taste, alcohol neither, so she finally settled on food.  Something everyone needs, and something she'd be happy to supply at a fair price.

         "She paid some young boys to travel to the nearest city and buy as many bags of flour and rice and spices as they could carry back on a wagon.  Now those boys would be able to help their families, and she would have cheaper food to sell so the people could afford it.  Now these boys were not the honest person that Helen was, and decided to say they had been robbed along the path back Eugen.  Of course, they hadn't, they merely kept the food for their own families.  Helen was suspicious but had not proof so she decided to send out for food again, this time with two different boys, both of them paid well of course, and this time she got her food.  The boys lied about the cost of the wheat and the flour, and kept the extra money for themselves.  But Helen, the kind soul, could not prove it.

         "Her shop finally opened, and was quickly over-run by beggars and thieves, all looking for a hand-out from the generous young woman.  At first she refused, but they would bring up her previous life, in an attempt to embarrass her, until she finally gave in.  She declared that every family could have one cup of free rice per day, and one cup of flour as well.  But that was not enough for some, so the ones who came in often left with pockets full of spices.  At the end of every day, Helen would count her money, then count her products.  She was not a fool, remember, just a decent soul.  She knew what was happening, but could think of no way to stop it.  This carried on for several weeks until Helen realized she had half of her money from the robes left.  She closed the shop early that day, and went home bitter and defeated.

         "At night, she cried herself to sleep, and it was then that the gods appeared to her in a dream.  'What shall I do gods?' Helen cried out to them.  The god in purple turned his head, the god in red addressed her in his gentle voice. 'My dear Helen, the only decent soul we could find, we can not offer an answer, only guidance.  Let your goodness lead your actions.'  She awoke covered in sweat, still sobbing softly.  She glanced around her apartment, as if looking for an answer, when one stuck her.  As she looked upon a suit jacket and cap that was left by one of her former clients, she came up with a plan.

         "The next day, she donned the cap and jacket, with some pants and glasses to match, and marched down to her store.  Outside was a crowd of beggars, waiting for their daily handout.  In a commanding deep voice, she ordered them to leave immediately.  Someone from the crowd yelled 'And who are you to tell us what to do, we want our food.'  Helen responded, 'My name is Bertholt, I am Helen's - cousin.  She is gone out of town on business, and has left me in charge.  The handouts stop now!'  The crowd let out a murmur and slowly began to dissipate.  That very same day, she caught a man trying to steal some spice, as punishment she broke his fingers with a hammer, and told him to warn all of his thieving friends that they would face similar consequences if caught. 

         "Business carried on for several weeks, each day Helen would dress up like Bertholt, run the shop, and every day she made a small amount of profit.  Not satisfied with this, she decided to expand her business, and added tobacco to her shop.  After that went well, she added alcohol, and then meat, and before long she had just about everything a person could want. The other shops in town, which lacked the resources of Helen, closed one by one.  Still, she noticed that her profit was low.  To combat this, she raised the price of goods week by week.  Times became harder, as she was the only supplier of many goods, and the people became poorer and poorer.  So long gone was Helen, and so prevalent was Bertholt, that when the gods returned to her house, Helen, dressed as Bertholt, turned them away.

         "That night, while sleeping peacefully, the gods appeared to her again.  This time, they took a somber tone. 'You cast our brother aside Helen, what has become of you?' the one in red asked.  The god in purple added, 'I told you she was not a decent soul, they are none left on that miserable rock'.  Helen tried to explain the situation, but the gods would not listen, they turned their backs to her as the god in gold spoke.  I could not bear to look at her, and my voice was saddened as I said 'Helen, my dear Helen.  What has become of you?  We gave you a gift, which at first you used to help, and now you use to hurt.'  She responded 'But how can I do good in this world?'

         "Well my friends, I thought about this one for a long time, and then I understood.  You see good men and woman, our quest was doomed from the start, for she was right.  An idea, a thought, a notion, a principle, must be spoken to before it will reveal itself, and that's what we did not do.  We assumed without asking, we looked without thinking, and we acted without considering the consequences.  We took this young woman, the only decent soul on the planet, and we corrupted her.  Not directly, but by giving her no other choice.  Yes, this world truly is a brutish and nasty place, the kind of place where a decent soul is easily corrupted."

         The old man hung his head between his hands.

         "My apologies friends, for this story has no happy ending, there is no redemption to be had, and no catharsis either.  You treat your fellow man like animals, and they act accordingly.  You let your lives be ruled by money, and until that changes, nothing else will."

         The people in the bar slowly begin to speak to each other again, trying not to look at the lonesome old man weeping in the corner.  They talk about sports and music, they speak of vacations and work, they discuss politicians and celebrities.  It doesn't take long for the bar to liven up again, with people laughing, drinking, and enjoying themselves.