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- 。O 。O 。O 。- the SOUL - 。 O 。O 。O 。 -
- O - Chapter 1 - O -
。Peter Purcell 。
I never really felt bad about it. Back then. I never got my hopes up, it didn't ever occur to me that we could be together. He was merely an interest, a fascination. Something to sate the boredom of my terribly monotonous teenage years. I always studied him from a distance, always starstruck and internally agape, like he was some sort of rare bird. Other people noticed him too, a wandering appreciative look and then their gaze moved away.
My gaze didn't move away. It was like I never could see enough of him, he'd captured my interest and looking at him never got boring.
Each flash of emotion, tick of his personality, was magnetising. I'd studied him so much that I felt I could see his very soul, and that too was beautiful. It was completely illogical and impossible to love someone so much, someone I'd never spoken to. Crazy, even. It didn't make sense. But like I said, my feelings for him never made me feel bad. It was because of him that I didn't suicide just from how purely mundane my existence was for so many years. I just never got my hopes up with him.
But now it hurt. It hurt so badly – it felt like my heart was tearing in two.
The classroom erupted into hissing whispers and excited murmurs. I'd already heard the rumours, they'd left me in a daze. But now I knew it was true. We'd received confirmation. Our balding roll call teacher told us with a serious expression. But his eyes were alight, after all this was good news right? Wrong. Everyone was completely enraptured in serious conversation except for me and the girl I sat next to. The chattering class didn't notice when I stood, I had to get out of here.
"Peter!" my friend Lorna called out in concern "Where are you going?"
"Toilet. Sick." I answered her in fragments. My teacher raised his eyebrows at me questioningly and I mumbled about needing to use the bathroom. He was too surprised to form a response in time. The green painted door swung open, bounced on its hinge and waned closed behind me. It still shined of its new coat, and I imagined the smell of it still lingered. Clawing up my nostrils and making my head swim, pricking my eyes.
Those fucking aliens. Those parasitic Souls. Fake, lying, passive demons. They killed him. They inserted one of their own kind into Mathew's body. It murdered him and is wearing his body and now he is gone. I don't care if they believed it was in his best interests. He deserved to be free, he deserved that. I'd see him again, but it wouldn't truly be him. The boy I loved is gone forever. I was sobbing before I'd even made it into the bathroom stall.
It was there, kneeling over the toilet while my chest heaved, feeling that my heart was literally breaking, that I had to go back in my mind and do some honest analysis. Only one decade has passed since the Souls made themselves known to humankind. Our way of life has drastically changed. Damage caused to the planet and its climate from centuries of industrial pollution has almost been entirely reversed. Corruption and violence that plagued mankind's history for millennia has been almost completely stamped out. Crime rates are microscopic, hunger and poverty has ceased, the world is now in a state of peace.
And a state of fear.
For almost twenty years the aliens have been aware of us, so they say. They watched from the safety of space, learning all they could and making plans. Then infestation began. The Souls exist by inhabiting other sentient lifeforms. They merge with another being, eradicate its consciousness, and the host's former personality and memories help make up the new being. The inserted Soul.
It has been admitted that while humans were still under observation a debate took place as to whether we should be guided and assisted, or completely invaded. The Souls are a benevolent and highly evolved species, so they say. The decision was made that humans were not entirely too far gone and could be pointed in the direction of higher evolution. Evolving until, eventually, we became just like the Souls. So they began by infesting prisons and asylums. And then communication began in secret with spiritual leaders, government officials and the world's greatest thinkers.
The Souls' existence was announced to the world ten years ago, and since then they have gradually infiltrated our societies. They work hand-in-hand with human authorities, gladly offering their technology, discoveries and wise council. Our planet is in the process of a rapid change. Vehicles run on clean energy and are made out of a brilliant shining metal not found here, newer and more efficient subways and monorails for public transport are under construction, diseases and even genetic disorders can be mended. Health will never be a problem.
And all they want to do is help. Nothing more. So they say.
With each passing month the power and influence of their species grows. Obviously more than a few paranoid individuals are sceptical about our new galactic neighbours that claim to come in peace. They said they didn't want to invade, but in their own slow and thorough way they have taken over. It still appears they're working with human authorities but the unofficial assumption is that's not the case. Souls are apparently incapable of violence. They are a 'pure' species, so what better way to completely inhabit a new world than what they're doing now?
After all, it's in our own best interests.
I cried silently on my knees, lest anyone hear. The period ended, so did the next, and then it was recess. I waited out my burst of emotion and let the numbness take me. Then when I was relatively sure I didn't look like I'd been crying I walked out of the smelly stall and studied myself in the warped and stained mirror. My brown eyes were a bit too glassy, and there was redness around them. Still, no one would know I'd been crying unless they paid close attention.
My skin was faintly tanned, partly due to genetics and partly due to the Australian sun. My straight black hair was short, the back cut close to my neck while my fringe was longer. Brushed back like it usually was the front reached just above my eyes. When swept forward the left side reached my cheekbone. I was above average in height with a slim build that fit my stature. My body swayed on being fit, due to sports and healthy eating being an important value to my family. Not so much me. But a naturally high metabolism didn't hurt my physique either.
I glanced at my appearance after deducing my face was back to normal. Normal-ish. Then I turned for the exit with my head lowered, planning not to attract attention to myself. Once outside I saw fellow students talking in their social groups, not paying any attention to me. With my eyes on the ground faces were but a blur, it was only a sea of blue buttoned uniform tops with grey shorts and skirts. I got a few metres before someone jumped out in front of me. It was Lorna.
"We need to hang out. My place. After school." she was serious, all-business. Her eyebrows were raised, asking at any objections. I looked at her and wondered if she could tell I'd been crying. Lorna could be incredibly perceptive, but only when she chose to be, so usually she wasn't.
"Okay." I agreed and she gave half a nod, that knowing expression on her face as she continued off.
Taking empty steps towards the concrete quadrangle of Awaba High School I tried not to think about it. Him. I tried not to think about how intensely I'd fallen for him, literally love-at-first-sight, at only fourteen years old. When lining up for class I'd stared at him agape before getting control of myself several seconds later. Then inside I'd huddled into the corner of the room and ignored the teacher, in silent awe over what I'd discovered. Is this what love is? That thing everyone talks and sings songs about?
I was terrified of him. He'd haunt my dreams, but even then I couldn't face him. Even knowing I was in the safety of my head I turned tail and left. The years went by and thankfully the intensity of my feelings subsided. I could imagine him now, and walk by without having to focus on keeping my legs from noodling out like jelly. I'm eighteen and in my last year of school, and now that I'm strong enough to look his way without flinching, and brave enough to picture him while whacking off and professing my love at the moment of climax, he's gone.
My Mathew is gone. Lorna was right about them. Soul-sucking parasites.
AN: So I just read 'The Host' and saw the movie. I got an awesome idea for an OC slash version, at least I think so. I think I'd like to explore some light and pure romance writing considering the psychological romances on my Fictionpress account as of late have been quite dark, to say the least. But now I'm in the mood for some nice stuff! Yay! If you're here from my other stories, the universe has been conspiring against you. I've been sick and had computer problems, but I will update my other stuff don't you worry. I'm a creature of creative urges, and I must honour them. I've put this out here to see if anyone will take an interest. Then I might continue.