SOUL: Soul By Jane Malin

Week 10 Word: SOUL
Word Count 451

By Jane Malin
The bass was all she could hear pounding its way through the floor of her little apartment in the French Quarter. The pillow didn’t help, but it made her feel resourceful. He played his soul music incessantly all night. Thump, thump, thump. Occasionally the blare of someone’s trumpet would shatter the beginnings of her slumber. Doesn’t he understand that some people have to get up in the morning? Darn musicians! All they do is party and play all the time. Skill? She hardly thought so.
The sheets were hot with stress. She heaved her body over to the other side, flipped the pillow to the cool surface, and pulled it back over her head. She wondered whatever happened to all those musicians who just seemed to melt into the great beyond. Did someone in heaven collect all their souls for the mother of all gigs? She would have gladly donated “Ringo” downstairs.
Ahh, the Beatles, now that was a musical foursome worthy of commendation. Everything they played had such energy and soul. She could still hear “Something in the way she moves…” as she danced her first ever slow dance with Rich. He barely knew she was alive. She was convinced he just needed a dance partner while all the pretty girls were in the bathroom en masse. “And while we’re at it, what’s up with that? Why do women always seem to need assistance in the bathroom?” Ok, maybe she did that one time she was really blitzed at college graduation. She did need help with her stylish denim overalls, but thankfully Doretta was the soul of discretion. Thump, thump, stinkin’ thump.
By this time she was pacing the floor. She peered through the lace curtain; not a soul in sight. Of course not! Everyone else is SLEEPING!
The hours passed by. She made some herbal tea. No use. She’s just not going to get any rest tonight. Thump, thump, the fillings rattled in her teeth. She longed for the days when she could stay up until all hours of the night. Then it was exhilarating to see what the morning had in store. She always had the big picture in sight. No time to waste. Sleeping was short-lived; it held no long-lasting fulfillment. She smiled as she realized she really was an old soul at heart.
Well, the sun was just starting to peep through those curtains. Thump. “Good Lord, he’s still at it,” she declared. She washed and dressed – the black tunic, the black belt, and the scapular. Finally she carefully positioned the two veils, first the brilliant white one covered by the black.
Grabbing her Bible, “Oh well, off to work. I’ll pray for his sorry soul!”

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