Ginger

Urban legend dictates that gingers have no soul. And normally I am the type to believe in everything.

I still am.

But with that belief in everything comes an innate sense of choice.

And I chose a world full of infinite possibilities, making the urban legend both true and untrue. It is, in essence, Schrödinger’s Cat, because you won’t know until you open the box and see.

And I certainly opened up Pandora’s box. A box I never expected to be opened again.

Yet I had to let her out. There was no choice. Souls weren’t meant to be kept in boxes just the same as cats. But now that she is out and plaguing my mind… what is she?

She can’t be anything but a ginger. And yet not once have I asked myself whether she has a soul.

There is no room for such a thought to exist; it is just as inconceivable as my mind trying to make sense of why people love. If anything I’m the one without a soul, due to my remarks. I’m the cruel one, and yet she walks on the coals for crimes she is accused of. Crimes I accused her of.

Is she a thief?

Oh, yes she is. A thief of the sneaky caliber which quite rivals my own. In fact, it is better to say she is far more capable than I will ever manage. She could pluck an idea from your head before you could even manage to realize it was there.

Is she a witch?

In some sense of the word it is possible. I have yet to see her practice magick, or fall among the ways of darker spells. But a witch who is capable of bewitching those around her is more than possible. She’ll have sunk her magic into you before you are even aware. I know, because it happened to me.

Is she a ninja?

Oh yes. And not just any ninja either. She’s the kind that has advanced with growing technology and learned to strike at the very core of a matter from fast distances. She isn’t just a ninja, she’s one capable of sniping, even from far away. She has no need for traditional weapons; she has no need for weapons at all. She simply requires a target and the rest falls into place, as though it were a natural state of being.

Does she have a soul?

There is not a single being who could have more soul bursting through her. She doesn’t just have a soul, she has eyes that speak of times long past and energy to show there are even more ahead. No matter if they are dark or light, for their intensity and livelihood do not waver. She doesn’t just have a soul… she is a soul. A soul radiating with energy and creativity and vibrating at a frequency of my own.

Is she a paradox?

The best kind. The kind I understand yet marvel. She is both the same as me, and yet not at all. A conundrum I can stand behind, figuratively. Her mind is a mystery and yet so easily discernible. Her heart is shrouded yet clear in intention. Her body is awkward yet oozing with confidence. And her soul… oh her soul, it is not something I can speak so little about and do justice, for her soul is rich and free, just as I am and want to be.

Is she a traveler?

The kind you never expect. The ninja in her rubbing off. One minute she is there and the next she has gone to some far off land. And though her travels have only just begun, they still thrive in potential at just what will be possible. She doesn’t just travel, she lets the traveling come to her. After all, why move when everything else can move to you?

Who is she?

I couldn’t say. Not beyond what I have. For even now, having seen her soul and heart I could not be sure of who she is. Except that she is me and yet not me. She is herself and yet not who she makes herself out to be.

She is a ninja.

She is a witch.

She is a thief.

She is a traveler

She is a paradox

But these are not who she is. They are distractions from the soul underneath.

I know she has a soul. I know because I’ve seen it. I know because there is not a being alive lacking a soul that can also produce melodic words to such degree in song, thought, poem, writing and speech. For the arts require a soul to both understand and produce.

I have tried to claw away at what was there, but all I met was the devastation of what she could do to me, since I’ve let her in my heart. By probing into her, I’ve only discovered myself.

But maybe that is meant to be.

Maybe all I’ll ever find is myself. But maybe… just maybe I’ll find her too someday.

Mebbe…