Issue 5:
Soul
B. S. Arnold
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Melting In Rodin
There is a saying in Rodin, Georgia, "When the soles of your shoes turn black, run for your soul." My eighth grade teacher, Mrs. Satana told me that was nonsense.
But I just got laid off from the municipal cotton gin last Friday and when I reached Luke's Café that afternoon, I looked down at my Converse All-Stars and noticed something peculiar.
The bottom of my shoes were immaculately clean. I showed Tom, who also just got fired, and he looked at the bottom of his Hush Puppies. They were black as suicide. Which scared us both, sitting there, drinking cider in a booth.
"What should I do, Jacob?" Tom said.
"Well, since mine are so damn shiny and clean and yours look like you've been walking through Hell, and we both did just get fired, I'd say we ought to have a race."
So, Tom and I stepped outside onto Murphy street. We faced the setting sun and lined ourselves up next to a parked car with a license plate that read, "STOPNOW."
"On your mark, get set --" Tom said.
"Go!" I said.
The two of us rocketed off. Our legs worked the ground, sprinting as fast as we could. Past Luke's. Past the Walmart. And past the middle school. That's when I noticed Tom was on fire. Flames dripped off his neck and trailed behind him emitting small tufts of smoke. Apparently he didn't notice and I was too much in awe of my burning friend to say anything. And that's when I thought of what Mrs. Satana said. Then I thought, if she was alive right now, right here, I'd show her my friend's melting face.
~B. S. Arnold
B. S. Arnold is a news writer for a big corporate machine in Atlanta, Georgia. He enjoys his spheres and is happy with Islam. Email.
© 2000 by B. S. Arnold. All Rights Reserved.
© 2000-2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated April 23, 2002.