Three Souls
What antics would our inner selves get into if they could act out on their own?
Hello and happy February! Thanks to everyone who entered the New Year, New Reads giveaway. Congratulations to the winner who has been contacted separately. Since there are some new subscribers around here, I thought I would give a quick, one-liner of what’s in this newsletter.
Expect to see speculative flash fiction, SFF, and short stories from the Sunshine State – and the backstories of the REAL places that inspired them every month. It’s all for fun and for free so sit back and get a fiction fix in the time it takes to drink a cup of coffee. Okay, that’s two lines, but you get the idea.
February often conjures imagery of flowers, so I’m not surprised that they made their way into the below piece. The true inspiration, however, came from an old local, Paleo Indian belief that every person has three souls. Because I’m me, of course, I imagined these as free-spirited entities will wills of their own, which sounds troublesome. However, I wonder how much we might be able to better understand about our feelings if they could play out in our shadows and reflections instead of always being hidden. That’s what I tried to explore in the below piece.
Three Souls
My shadow skipped as I walked the promenade along the Miami River. It found walking too boring. I didn’t fuss about its behavior unless I was still. Your shadow can’t frolic when you’re still. Someone was bound to notice that.
The skipping of my shadow was something only children noticed1. Kids always recognize the mischief in another. I peered down into the water. Even though the flowing river distorted the scene, it revealed enough to show my reflection making rude faces at me. My eyes glowed until my shadow and reflection regained their composure (i.e. did what reflections and shadows are supposed to do like everyone else’s).
I walked on and stopped to glance at a puddle for a quick check. In the reflection, my eyes were closed. Hey, if my eyes are open, your eyes need to be open. Got it? I turned away and spun back to the water to catch them by surprise. My eyes flashed white before they shut again. My reflection shook its head.
“Fine,” I said. If all three of me were acting up, then I’d have to face it2 soon.
A woman walking a toy poodle gave me a sideways glance, but didn’t slow her stride. In downtown there were all sorts, and arguing with yourself in public was hardly worth notice. I had lived with these parts of me acting up most of my life – ever since they unearthed the foundation of some ancient structure3 adjacent to our flower shop. It was almost like the roots of that civilization refused to return to the earth even though what grew above it was long gone. Maybe everyone had echoes of themselves like I did, but they couldn’t see them.
They covered the structure back up, made it into a small half-paved, half-grassed over space, with a plaque, and it’s been part of my morning walk to the shop ever since. The end.
That was when I started to see them. Well, me, or parts of me, in an unusual fashion. But I could hardly remember a time when I didn’t. I’ve come to think of them as my wildflowers — resilient things that could pop up anywhere and be considered a weed or beauty depending on your perspective or day of the week.
I didn’t have to listen to that trinity of trouble, but they got quite intrusive when I didn’t. Like invasive petunias4 on a mission. They had been getting worse on Fridays.
When I pushed through the front door, the bell didn’t ring because my shadow was holding it. “Let go,” I grumbled.
“Of what? I only just started,” I heard my Tia from the back counter. She was already making bouquets to fill today’s orders. Lots of downtown workers liked to bring home fresh flowers for the weekend, including – nope. Not gonna think of him.5
“Oh, I was talking to myself,” I said.
“You do that too much,” Tia said with a single, raised eyebrow.
“I know,” I sighed.
I filled my mind with thoughts of lilies, roses, daisies and tulips because they needed prep for the rest of the bouquets Tia was working on.6 The time flew by and did not at all feel like tedious centuries of waiting for the lunch hour to arrive. By the time it did, I had redone the arrangement in front of me six times because my shadow kept taking flowers out and gifting them to my reflection who swooned dramatically. I yanked all the flowers out of the vase and started over.
“You need a break?” Tia asked.
The bell above the door rang. It was 12:15. “No, I’m fine.”
My shadow raced over as the door closed and jingled the bell a second and third time, announcing what I already knew. I will pluck and rearrange you like a wilting rose, I thought. The bell jingled a fourth time before being released.
“Does it always ring that many times?” Augustine strolled in looking sharp and splendid as usual in a crisp white button down with a sleek, thin tie. Not a single strand of dark hair out of place.
“No,” I said, failing to sound casual. “You must be special.”
“Not special enough,” he said. “I think I need another bouquet.”
“Still buying for that idiot ex-girlfriend?” Tia chimed in, poking her head around the doorframe to the store room.
“Tia Mercy!” I cried. “It’s none of our business.”
“Look at this man, so handsome and considerate to continue buying flowers week after week after –”
“Enough, Tia.” The door to the store room closed abruptly. I exhaled a deep breath as my shadow slinked away. About time you were useful. “What can we get for you today?”
“I’m not sure,” Augustine said. I turned to face him and he was leaning a little into the counter, staring at me. “You’re eyes are really bright today.”
“Are they? Thank you. Have you thought to try orchids?” I gestured to the mirrored display shelves behind him to get him to turn. “The dendrobium orchids make decent house plants with a little support. That’s the pot of bright, purple ones.”
My reflection in the mirror behind the orchids blew him a kiss. Unbelievable. He turned back to me like maybe he wasn’t sure about what caught his eye. “Are those the ones you like best?”
“Actually, no.” I couldn’t look at him with my mortifying reflection winking at me from behind him. Get in line or I will smash every mirror in here. My shadow put a comforting hand on her shoulder. They7 were going to scare him off or make me so distracted that he would think I wasn’t interested. I can work in the dark, too! Finally they both scrambled back into place. Immature souls.8
“I like the moth orchids,” I walked out from around the counter separating me from Augustine and pulled down a pot of pale, yellow flowers with vivid purple veins. “They aren’t as high maintenance as some of the others.”
He touched one of the petals. “They’re beautiful.” He moved closer to me. The pot of flowers, I meant. He wanted to see the flowers better, right? Then my reflection pointed wildly at him and I observed that he wasn’t looking at the flowers. “I decided high maintenance isn’t for me,” he said.
“So, I’ll wrap these up, then,” I smiled my best, sale-ready smile. “Are you still going in person, or would you like these delivered?”
“I’ve been going in person every week, but I haven’t been giving her the flowers.”
“She won’t take them? She’s a fool.” It came out angrier than I meant, but come on.
“She doesn’t know they’re for her. That I keep coming here for her.”
“I don’t understand.” My shadow shook its head at me, exasperated.
“I stopped buying flowers for my ex weeks ago. I told you. High maintenance isn’t for me.”
“But you didn’t stop buying flowers,” I said. “You’ve been here every week.”
“I got used to it.” He held out a credit card for the orchids.
“To buying flowers?” I automatically rang up the charge for the flowers, and reached out to grab the card. He held it without letting go until I looked up at him. I could barely suppress the glow I felt forming in my eyes.
“To seeing you.” He let go of the card suddenly and I stumbled back a bit.
I steadied myself as my reflection’s mouth hung agape. I swiped the card and gave it back. He shoved it in his pocket, sighed and walked out without the flowers.
I stared at the door as he left, stunned. The bell wouldn’t stop ringing.
“They’re for you, bobita!” Tia came out of the store room. “Don’t just stand there!” She pulled me out from behind the counter and pushed me toward the door. “We need to replace this bell.”
Augustine was just outside the door.
I felt the uncontrolled grin spread on my face. “Augustine.”
“Please, call me Augie.” He smiled back.
My shadow hopped out to throw its hands up in celebration (gutsy at midday). And then it reached a hand out and pulled out — Augie’s shadow? They leapt from the sidewalk and moved to the street in an approximation of a waltz.
“Would you like to have lunch with me?” Augie asked.
My head snapped back to attention. Let them waltz.
“Yes! She does!” Tia cried from the other side of the door.
I nodded. Well, I did. All of me did.
Other people definitely noticed, but unlike children, they pretended they didn’t.
“It” refers to a him: Augustine Santoro, someone she pretended not to notice in loving detail.
The Miami Circle at Brickell Point was discovered in 1998 during a routine archaeological survey. Development halted when surveyors found strange holes beneath a layer of limestone. Believed to be the work of the Tequesta tribe, the largest holes formed a perfect, 38-foot-diameter circle. Several artefacts were also unearthed – including human teeth and pieces of burnt wood – and radiocarbon dated at roughly 1,800-2,000 years old.
The hardy petunia (Ruellia simplex) has been classified as a highly invasive plant in Florida. It can escape from home gardens and spread into natural areas where it crowds out native species.
She was going to think of him.
And because those are all the flowers He-who-shall-not-be-named has purchased for a woman who broke up with him and won’t take him back.
“They” here refers to souls. The Tequesta people believed that every person has three souls: one in their shadow, one in their reflection and one in their eyes.
The innermost soul was said to be in the eye and immortal so, relatively speaking, the other two could be considered immature and possibly aware that their lives were short.
Light hearted and uplifting. Made me smile.