About twenty years ago I was shown a jar of vitamin C tablets, by a friend, from Soul Pattinson chemist with the label 'Souls' on it, and the price. At the time the significance of the label didn't impact me. But one night, around a year later, laying back on a filthy foam mattress, under the floor of a squat, munching on some of the tablets from said jar sold by Soul Pattinson, I realised that I held the jar of souls. Which was funny because I used to have voices in my head saying that they knew how to make a soul gibber eternally, specifically mine, if the voices commands weren't strictly carried out. All the voices had to do was to take my soul and to seal it in a jar. Thus, I realised that I held everyone's souls in my hand, to do with as I pleased.
Now you may think that having such power would be a tremendous boon, but in fact the opposite was true. What was I to do with the jar of souls? Did I have to hold onto it for life, to protect? At the time I was not capable of looking after myself and terribly resented now being made responsible for everyone's souls. My response was to damn everyone, except me, my family, and my friends. It was the easier solution, and let me carry on with my precarious life.
To this day I still have the jar of souls, but no-one, except paedophiles, are damned. I keep the jar safe and I have stipulated in my will that the jar of souls, with other decoy jars, are to be buried with me. I am no longer bothered by this immense power and I think I am doing a good job of looking after everyone. I also enjoy occasionally looking at them.
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