Soul Light

Henry sat on his Grandfathers favourite bench amid the central city park. The sun was warm on his back and the wind chill against his face. It was the freshest of spring days, the kind that would normally have boosted Henry’s mood after the long, grey winter. Activity blossomed all around. Life everywhere emerging from the same dull hibernation of a colder than usual season. Cascading laughter, thrown Frisbee's and the zipping by of bikes and dogs busied the parklands as far as he could see. Whilst chattering birds, scurrying squirrels and the clatter of budding tree branches tried to claim the space for their own. All of it combined in an attempt to convince Henry that it was a day of renewal and growth. Yet all he could bring himself to feel was the sealed parcel in his hands and how it underlined the ending of his old Gramps life.

The reading of his will had been a long and tedious affair. Every item listed, every financial asset divvied up between greedy relatives, every last penny accounted for. At least his Gramps had been thorough enough to leave no room for argument. Something he had clearly prophesied from certain family members. To the point that, he had included a warning that should Aunt Clara or Aunt Alice raise even a single point of contention, they would lose their share completely. Their pinched mouths had only proven him wise. For Henry, he had walked in knowing he would be leaving with only the one item. He was already well aware what was inside the small cardboard box on his knees. Promised to him with a wink when he was only a child, his Gramps had whispered of his ‘magic monocle’ and how it was destined to belong to Henry one day. The old man had worn it every moment of his life, even if it had mostly rested in his shirt pocket on an old brass chain. Regardless of the nonsense stories he told about it to entertain his grandchildren, it had been an intrinsic part of his identity, and for that, Henry was forever glad it had been entrusted to his safe keeping.

Taking a deep breath of the cool air, he sighed and decided he could put it off no longer. He tore off the old packaging tape and gently peeled open the cardboard. As expected, he found the antique eye glass within, wrapped in protective bubble wrap. It had never had a case he had known of, having always rested safely against his Gramps chest. Extracting it carefully, he reached out to dump the box into a bin beside his bench without looking and cupped his hands around all that he had left of the beloved old man. Unbidden, a tear broke free of his eyes and rolled down his cheek. Hastily he brushed it away, he was in public after all. His Gramps had meant the world to him. He had been full of life and laughter during the good times and a sombre, sympathetic ear in the bad. He had always seemed to know what Henry needed, without ever asking, and had always been there for him, no matter what. He had been a rock steady foundation in a tilting world, and now, he was just…gone. Henry took a ragged breath and centred himself. Not normally one for such outbursts, he breathed through the tightness in his throat until it passed. Chuckling and shaking his head, he held the monocle to his right eye. The world exploded into light and colour.

Gasping, Henry yanked the monocle from his face while recoiling his head as far as his neck would allow. He blinked furiously, trying to resolve his normal vision, which had already returned long before his mind could catch up with the change. Gazing down at the circle of glass held in his hand, he tried to grasp what had happened. In front of him a bustling vista remained unchanged. The city dominated the skyline while the usual comings and goings of a busy park played out in the foreground. When he had glimpsed the same scene through the glass of the monocle…coloured light had blanketed every person, every plant and every animal. It was like an overzealous Christmas display, where every living thing was illuminated in a gaudy glow. Gingerly, he raised the monocle once more, needing to know if it had been real, or if he needed to call an ambulance and complain of a stroke. As soon as the metal rim of the old eye glass connected with his skin, the world lit up once more. This time, he held fast.

The trees, grasses and flowers that decorated the well-kept grounds of the park radiated a constant white glow. Every one of them produced a uniform light that persisted yet remained caged by the borders of their shapes. Once Henry realised that, it felt less overwhelming, as he was then able put at least the plain white light to the back of his mind as something static. The dogs on leads, birds that darted by and rodents that peeked out from the bushes were less uniform, but after some study, seemed fairly predictable. Their outlines were all overlaid with solid blocks of reds, pinks and purples. Once he had grown accustomed to that pattern, Henry dared move his attention to the people present. He was cautious, choosing only one to focus on at first. The colour swirling within the outline of every body was so vivid and complex that if he tried to follow all the moving shapes, he grew dizzy and overwhelmed. The sheer quantity of information that assaulted his mind made him want to rip the monocle from his face again. Instead, he focused and settled his eyes on a young woman, blocking out all else. She sat facing away from him on the grass and reading a book. A safe choice to level his gaze upon, without being caught staring and labelled a creep. Although he realised that risk was still very real. Like ink in water, but confined by the limit of her body, surged a myriad of coloured lights. Predominantly blue, he noticed slight whorls of red and a growing spread of pink. There were tendrils of yellow that threatened to push in but were mostly held at bay. All of it, back lit with that same white light. As he watched her reading, the pink would build, then subside and when he used his uncovered eye to read the title of her book, he suddenly understood. A well-known spicy romance that caused surges of pink light? Was the light reacting to her mood, her thoughts and feelings? Her passion over the words?

Henry had heard plenty of fortune tellers advertising their ability to read a persons aura for a bargain price. Always dismissed as snake oil, he now had to question that assumption. Clear as day in front of him, through his Gramps’ ‘magic monocle’, he could see each persons inner personality and emotions shining through. He saw a young couple, in the throes of a passionate kiss, swamped with the same pink light that had been teasing the girl with the book. He watched a parent, chastising a child for a reckless action that Henry had not witnessed. The mother was full of yellow tendrils, feeding a red cloud. Fear feeding anger? The child glowed with his own red anger and indignation, which was slowly dissipating under the assault of a cold blue shame. It was different to the blue of the reading girl, hers was a deep, calm and thoughtful shade. A man in a suit, all but dragging his briefcase behind him, shuffled along while consumed by grey exhaustion. A young, dread-locked man in white linens, going barefoot, was a blanket of earthy browns. Serene and as calm as anyone could be. The more Henry sat quietly on his bench and observed, the more complexity he saw. The multitude of combinations and shades of colour that the monocle revealed to him within every soul was staggering. He was rapt with it and ignoring any other need, consumed himself in his study. When he finally thought to give his attention to what his left eye was seeing, the day had begun to fade into the early sunset of the spring evening.

Even as an adult, Henry had been mystified by how his Gramps could spend so long sat on a hard wooden bench at the park. He finally understood. It wasn’t just the ideal spot, shaded by the trees, with a view of the city skyline and open grassy areas. It was the perfect position to comfortably examine the variety people that made up a community. To view so many secrets, so intimately, without any filter, was intoxicating. The friend lit with green envy while watching another do tricks with a ball. The intermingling of yellow fear, red passion and purple confusion that rioted through a teenager. The pure and direct emotions of the animals that accompanied their human companions. It was endlessly fascinating. Henry could not pull himself away. And didn’t want to.

As night fell and darkness blanketed everything beyond the scant few lit pathways, Henry remained. The light of the few souls that still meandered their way through the gardens was enough to brighten their immediate area in an eerie glow. On a whim, he closed his left eye, blinding himself completely to all but what the monocle could show him. He found himself suspended in a spiritual realm, where only translucent figures of bright colour walked through a never-ending blackness. The white light of living plants gave brief platforms between the void of the empty spaces, but everything that didn't live had been denied to his sight. All that remained were the ghostly images of what he accepted as...souls. Quickly, Henry opened his left eye again. That experience was a little too strange, even for his newly acquired perspective. He yawned and shifted his aching behind from the hard wood of the bench, finally giving in to the need to leave. His stomach growled with hunger and the nearby bathroom was calling. But before he could rise, one last couple came rushing down the paving that passed before his bench. They displayed something new…something…wrong.

The woman, beautiful beyond measure to his usual human gaze, glowed an incredible gold through the monocle. It was something that Henry found difficult to quantify, a colour than invoked a sensation rather than a description. He was held in awe by the sheer impressiveness of her soul. It inspired a joy within his chest. A welcome relief to the slow grief that had been dampening him since the loss of his grandfather. The calm she invoked was short lived. His scrutiny revealed the almost imperceptible cracks of yellow fear that ran like a web across her entire being. Camouflaged against her brightness, he almost missed them altogether. He followed them to their source, where he transferred his gaze to the man at her side.

He was full of a sickly red and pink. All clouded rage and lust. Nothing like the pure tones he had seen in the happy people enjoying the spring sun of the day. Where he held firmly to the woman’s arm and his body pressed against hers, there was no colour at all. Only black void, where lines of gold seemed to seep from her soul into his. Henry’s understanding of this new tool, gifted to him by his beloved Gramps, was limited to a single days observation. Yet there was no doubt in his mind, this man was a poison. His apparent ability to drain another’s gifts? It felt…unnatural. When the stranger’s eyes met Henry’s, and his smooth porcelain skin and gaunt features drew into the glare of the path’s lights, he quickly glanced away and redirected his captive into the pitch black of the parkland. It would not hide him, not from Henry. Who rose and followed the brilliant gold figure that lit up the night.

He kept his distant, unsure of what he was even doing. Henry was not a fighter, not some vigilante or rescuer. He was just a guy with a monocle from his late grandpa who had spent an afternoon in the park. He should just go home. Yet he couldn’t turn away. He couldn’t abide the revolting nature of what he had seen. As he followed, the man continually leached away a trickle of the woman’s will and self. From the slow burning fear that spread through her soul, one that seemed entrenched in every facet of her, it seemed to Henry that this vampirism had been going on for some time. They entered a wooded area, Henry following at a quiet distance, cringing at every broken twig under his feet. He slowed as he approached them, trying to control his heavy breathing. All three of them were lost in the pitch dark of full night. Henry’s spectacled right eye was the only way he had been able to navigate amidst the white trees suspended in an ocean of black. As he crept closer, he discovered the repellent man with his hand wrapped around the golden woman’s throat, the swirling darkness of his being smothering the brilliance of her light. Her back was pressed against an invisible surface that could only be a rock or a wall. The monster was pawing at her with his free hand. He was so absorbed in his vile task, thinking himself so safe in the black of night, that he was not aware of Henry’s approach. He did not realise he had been followed, nor that Henry had crouched, to feel his way to a palm sized rock. Not until Henry was almost upon him did the man turn, just as Henry put all of his strength into a blow that collided with the creatures forehead. He crumpled. Henry’s grip released from the stone involuntarily, dropping it to the ground and he watched as the light faded from the mans soul. He felt no guilt as the strangers sickly glow extinguished. His hands shook with the impact of what he had done, but not with any sympathy for the man he had killed. The monocle had shown him the absolute truth of his nature, and it left no questions in his mind as to what was required.

The young woman looked to him and back at the ground. The shock plain on her face and comprehension at what had happened coming slowly to her features. To his surprise, the weaving lines of fear that had wormed their way into her soul withdrew to nothing. None remained for him. Instead, she looked him dead in the eye and said, 

“You see me?”

Mixed lines of green and yellow shot like lightening through her ever-shining gold. A combination that spoke of relief and anxious hope.

“I do” Henry replied, on a shaking voice, “And I saw him. I am glad you are safe. Though, I do not understand...why did I do that? Why am I so okay with it? Who are you?”

“Follow me” She whispered and took off at a stride. Her confidence and the feeling of comfort she emitted surging in strength.

Henry followed, his monocle firmly in place.