As the ship descended, the men holding to the rigging desperately, the Great Being stepped off the deck and fell, landing nimbly in the study.

He put the soul back on the mantle, and it waited there for the next exciting thing to happen.

The Great Being met with angels who gestured and waved their arms about; once a stray and desperate wing nearly knocked the soul from its perch, but the Great Being steadied it. The angels spoke of things like fracturing and chaos and the hand over.

The soul wished it had hands. They looked like fun.

The Great Being frowned and stared at the floor. He then pulled a letter from his robe and handed it to an angel. They left the room together.

More time passed. The soul tried again to achieve some sort of corporeal body, but it couldn’t manage so much as a finger.

More angels. More meetings. The soul began to grow bored. There was no concept of passing time here in this little room, and there were no more exciting boat trips.

It was during a meeting with some small glowing children that another exciting thing finally happened.

The man returned, the woman behind him, her face still unmoving. The man carried one of the swords now, unsheathed. He wore the same white robe, only now it was tattered, sandy and bloody. The soul wondered what adventures they’d seen. The man turned to look at the soul, and the injury to his face was suddenly apparent: he had lost his left eye, the socket and three deep scratches covered by the white rag he’d used to wipe his tears earlier.

He spoke quickly to the Great Being, his hand white with the effort of gripping his sword tightly, the muscles in his jaw clenching.

The Great Being accepted this interruption in stride, dismissing the children and standing to meet the man. He touched the man on the shoulder and smiled, and the man relaxed his grip. The woman knelt by the door.

The Great Being sat the man down and they talked for a long time. The man’s remaining eye widened as the Great Being talked, and he nodded slowly. The Great Being smiled one last time at the soul in its jar, and then left the room.

Choose a life to return to. Choose a body. The soul was astonished to actually hear the voice. Images flashed by then: a baby boy, an old woman, a dirty male farmer, and a young woman. Animals, then, a mouse, a giraffe, a hyena, a fox. When it landed at last on a hawk, the soul swelled in excitement.