Just as a heads up, I like to think of myself as a writer, and a decent one at that. One of my favorite activities to do is to challenge myself to write a short story in 1 hour. The challenge comes in writing something that makes sense, but also in not going back to fix things and keep writing. Sometimes that is the hardest thing to leave what you write behind, especially when you don't agree with it. Here is one of my attempts, a story called: Simple.

They say two people can be attached, like an invisible string tethering them together, across the world, while neither has any clue the other exists. I mean, there’s always those moments when the world sort of slows down and you gaze off into the inner working of your mind and you might think about all those people you met, and you think back to another instance just like this when you thought of all the people you might meet, and you think to how those people lived up to the standards of the people you thought you were going to meet, and you realize that these people, these real people that are in your life now, are so much better than anything you could think up.

But now you think up all these other people you could meet in your life anyways, think about how interesting or rich, or hard another persons story might be, and how you might be part of their story someday. You might even think about that special someone out there. Some people call them soul mates. Someone that will change your whole life when you meet them; the kind of person that you’ll know instantly, that will make the world spin and get the adrenaline flowing. You will think what they’ll be like, and maybe some of the qualities you like in another person, but you don’t dwell too long on the specifics, because you want those things to be a surprise. So you can love learning everything about that person. That’s happened to us all at some point, right?

Well soul mates do exist. Although, not quite in the way you might think. Somewhere in the creation of things, people were molded by clay and breathed to life by the light of fire. But we were all just husks, with no wonder, no perception. Drones, lifeless models scattered across the earth. God or Gods or Goddesses or the Master Goat in the sky designed us to be that way. We were merely creations that kept the earth in repair, kept things working and carrying on. But in every creation story, there’s always the serpent, and in this case, one tiny mistake, one err to begin the err of human ways, one of the containers of life, the force that was used to create on earth was spilled upon the first human.

Filled with life, this first human with a soul looked around and wondered, why? The mighty being(s) could not allow this transgression, but God never directly forces his/their/her hand, consequences allow us to succumb to what they want our fate to be. So to make sure this one human did not standout, he washed all humans in life. Filled them with souls. But he only made enough for half the humans. And then split those in half, forever condemning humans to wander looking for their other half. You’ve heard a version of that story before.

Irony is that while the human race is made up of females and males, and most of the religious texts strongly condone heterosexual relationships, the Gods didn’t split souls into half male, half female. Sometimes they were two females, two males. Sometimes God would place a soul in one female, and then place it in a male, so they always had a female piece of soul. The Goddesses laughed as the humans struggled trying not only to find each other, but find themselves. They looked like one thing, but inside they felt like another. Only that other person would make everything in life fit together and make sense. But sometimes everything was so wrong, and some of those people never found they’re other halves. They couldn’t handle what felt so wrong in their souls, and nothing could fix it, they couldn’t wait forever for this one person to come along. Life was cruel and the one power the humans had was to take life away. And they did.

But all that is slightly off subject. We were talking about soul mates right? And how they exist, but not quite the way you think. All, that above is true. But it isn’t as simple as meeting that other person and everything works. If that’s how things were, than technically, the soul would become better and worse depending on how close or far you were to your other half. And sentimentally, we can say that sort of happens but that's not really the case. And soul mates have nothing to do with romance. Trust me, it would be impossible.

So what then is a soul mate? Obviously, its someone else in the world who contains the other half of your soul, and your life cannot feel full and satisfied until you are whole. So, what exactly does that mean? Well put simply, your soul mate is someone with the other half of your soul. A soul you need. Inside of you. Not them. Think about that for a second. Starting to see an issue? If by being by your soul mate isn’t enough to get your soul, to feel whole, then how are you supposed to get your other half. How are you supposed to be whole.

It,s not like the other person doesn’t need their soul. Or do they? Is there an instance where, let’s say, they’d no longer need their soul? Your soul. Anything clicking? That thing I mentioned earlier about the power to take away life? Ah yeah. Now it’s hitting home. Who needs their soul if they’re dead? And trust me, people will do anything to feel complete. And they have.

Bu hey, it’s not all that bad; in the world we have plenty of good and bad, and yeah it seems like everyday we have more and more bad, but you were able to live and become and active part of society, before you met your significant other, right? Sometime’s you thought you found the one but you both move on. It seems today we do more of finding than we do staying with those we thought were the ones. People can live successful lives without finding that other half, right? It’s possible, but not for everyone.

Some people need that piece to feel complete. Those trapped in the wrong bodies and those who get chastised for feeling or being different. Some of us are lucky and don’t have to deal with that. Some of us didn’t draw the short straws in struggling with ourselves while the world looks at us for just being the way we were made. But if everyone wasn’t suffering, the Master Goat wasn’t happy. And that brings us to where we are right now, where I am right now. Soul mates exist for everyone. Whether you’re looking or not. And the way things are now, you don’t want to look.

Let me tell you how it starts. You’re out living your normal life, doing your normal thing. Perhaps your at work, or on the bus or out to dinner with your loved one. And then the room goes dark. It really doesn’t, but the air becomes so think. It’s like you’re in sludge. And your brain feels like its firing off lighting bolts. You turn to look where they are going and you notice them. The person who also, at that exact moment, notices you. It’s impossible not to. As you stare, and look at the other half of your soul, you realize that, one of you has to die in the next 24 hours.

Goat doesn’t care how or who goes, but if nothing happens within 24 hours, he chooses one at random. And it is always random. Age doesn’t matter. Sickness, and disability and disease doesn’t matter. Sometimes it makes the choice easier. Some people will fight for every second of their life. Some people don’t like to argue. They will survive and make sure you won't. You might be a person, who thinks, nah I’d never kill a person. But there’s always a situation. Oh look, your soul mate is that guy who went nuts and gunned down a movie theater, and is politely sitting in jail. No one is gonna miss him. Did I mention there is no law against killing for your soul? Pretty much, everyone gets one. Survival of the fittest they say. But there’s still a world going on out there.

In this case, it wasn’t going to come down to murder. Well I’m sure it would have been super easy for thousands of other people out there, but I’m not those people. My soul mate was a young Muslim girl. She might have been a few years over 20. I have no idea if there’s an age to the soul mate thing. Does that really matter? I told you, romance really isn’t an option, one of you has to go. I’m not a killer. It could have been almost anyone.

There’s always those situations I mentioned earlier, but God is random. Someone who just killed 30 people might live on and the preacher man won't. They don’t seem to care. But I wasn’t going to kill her. There’s a lot of stereo typing going on with all the attacks from ISIS, and tons of people are scared out of their minds that something is going to happen to them, and it could be any one of those Muslims. Like they’re going to sacrifice themselves, that every Muslim is an extremist that just wants to blow up. That’s ridiculous. Any white guy could be a serial killer. We don’t put those kind of stereotypes on ourselves. How is it right to do it to others?

I got up, and walked over to her. To tell her, and her family not to worry, that everything would be all right. I didn’t hate her, I didn’t hate them. They are just people, like everyone else, just trying to get by. Just trying to live and find that happiness. The pursuit of it. The very thing that says is entitled to everyone in our very constitution. She noticed me, and I smiled warmly. These situations can be scary for both parties. When you feel the jolt, that person could be coming to kill you. I was as nonthreatening as I could manage. She didn’t see alarmed though, as she smiled warmly back.

I was glad she was able to understand my intentions. Last thing I wanted was to scare her. She was probably scared every day of her life, wondering if some American idiot would lash out at her. I was glad that I seemed trust-able. I hoped that would mean she’d have a positive outlook of Americans, and realize that we weren’t all bigots. I was nearly to her, to tell her thank you, for having hope in me, and hopefully others. That was all I needed. And as I got to her, she fell into my arms. Not in an embrace, but a literal fall. I caught her dead-weight. And literal on that term. She held a vial in her hand. Confused, I looked around, to the faces of her family. I saw her father and he smiled warmly. He was sad, but not angry. Something had happened, and he accepted it. He looked at me, and all he said to me: “Poison.”