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Soul Searching
a web novel
Set in a world where souls wait before they're born,
a girl sets out on a quest to find her soulmate within the allotted time
before she's either sent to Earth or erased from the universe.
​“No one leaves this place without a soulmate.”
​
“Maybe no one does because they’re too afraid to.”
Day 15 / Numbered Days
​Day 15
254 days.
I have 254 days left to find my soulmate because I’ve already wasted the last two weeks asking strangers how the hell I’m supposed to do that.
​
No one leaves this place without finding a soulmate, and not leaving this place is not an option. Staying here means never being born, and never being born means not existing.
​
No one wants to not exist.
​​
Or at least, I want to exist.
​​
“We’re in the mess hall, B.” Niel pushes one of the trays across the table, nearly spilling soup all over my drawing, painting the black-and-white sketch as dark as his hair.
​
I could still salvage this if it was paint.
​​
“Great! You ruined it.”
​
“It’s a placemat, not a sketchpad!” He grabs a paper towel from the holder between us anyway, trying to keep the liquid from reaching my dream boy’s face.
​
Niel was blessed. He found his soulmate the day after he arrived. It wasn’t hard for him to find her either – with the girl’s name tattooed on his wrist, it sure was convenient she’s a writer – and it was as easy to confirm since used to be deaf before he spoke to her.
​
“Don’t worry too much,” Jo reassures me as she sets down glasses of juice on the table for the three of us. “Maybe he hasn’t arrived yet.”
​
“Or maybe I arrived late, and he already gave up searching.”
​
“Bea.” Jo takes her seat beside Niel and reaches out to hold my hand.
​
“His birthday could be tomorrow!”
​
Niel shakes his head and gives me an eye-roll.
​
“No, what if it is? How does that even work? Wouldn’t it be unfair if I’m still here, and he’s gone? I don’t want to fade into nothingness!”
​
“Careful,” Neil warns, calling out my gestures again. “You’ll hurt someone with that pencil.”
​
I put it back into my jacket pocket, fitting it snugly into the roll of my favorite portrait. Too bad I never saw that guy again. He’s probably taken already, and maybe even born now.
​
Then again, the chances of meeting someone more than once in a sea of a hundred million people and counting is fatter than blue whales, so maybe he’s still out there.
“That’s never happened before. Don’t worry.”
​
“Oh, she’s hit someone earlier, Jo.”
​
Jo rolls her hazel eyes at Niel. “I meant ‘fading into nothingness.’ Believe it or not, some found theirs on their last day. There’s a lot of journals about it in the library.”
​
“Not helpful.” I shove the slice of bread into my mouth lest I say anything more to my good neighbors.
​
“Do you have plans after dinner?” Jo asks.
​
“Stupid question.”​
​
“I told you, Jo. She’ll be resto hopping, then go home by 22 o’clock.” As one of the lucky ones, my friend here has the freedom to spend hours at home doing nothing or talking about anything and everything with his soulmate, and the luxury to mind a new neighbor’s daily routine. Now, he knows I leave before the sun rises the same way I know he sings Jo to sleep soon after the sun sets.
​
“I’m thinking of making that 23 for a change,” I tell them.
​
Jo informs me, “I’m thinking of bringing you to the theatre for a change.”
​
I shake my head.
​
“B, you can’t live here.”
​
“I’m not, Niel! My stuff is still in the unit next to yours. And –”
​
“Everyone eats.” They both say the same time I do.
​
“But a clock a millisecond off would always be wrong,” Jo tells me, then takes a sip of her orange juice.
​
“Are you sure I’m a millisecond off, poet?”
​
“No, but you could be in the wrong place talking to the wrong person all the time. He might be doing the same thing.”
​
“I’ll switch up the restaurants then.”
​
“Don’t you get sick of watching people on a date every day?” That earns Niel a nudge from Jo.
​
I scoff. “Like you’re not asking me to be a third wheel on your date, Jo.”
​
“It’s not a date! We’ll just hang out, and you can meet new people –”
​
“— who are all bound to head over to one diner or another.”
​
“You can choose which one of us you’d rather go with if it makes you more comfortable.” Jo offers. “I just hate seeing you throw yourself at random guys every single day. You haven’t even seen the world.”
​
“Oh, Ramon gave me a tour just fine.”
It was not fine. We went circles around the colossal, iridescent temple, then we had to run inside when we weren’t supposed to because of that stupid hurricane. I hated it. Still do.
​
“Just this once, B.” Niel backs his girl. “Then you can live out on the streets for all we care.”
​
It’s a lie. I can see it on Jo’s face. She’s just not one to not care about anyone. She even worries about animals not having soulmates.
​
“Fine.” I finish the last of my soup straight from the bowl so I don’t see their annoying grins of victory. “Just this once.”
The description at the doorway made it sound like some narrative orientation about finding soulmates, but the performance was infinitely beyond that. I don’t remember seeing a play before — not even in my past life, as the show implied we all had — but this is nothing like the gigs in restaurants or the spoken slam whatever in those loud cafés. The songs hurt more than I would admit. The twists of their brows, the quiver in their lips, the shaking of their voices, and those eyes, even when they had masks …
​
Damn.
​
“Here,” Jo whispers as she hands me a tissue.
“So you brought me out here to cry?”
“At least your first tears here aren’t caused by your own pain.”
​
The same can’t be said for the time we’re born though. Ramon did mention that our first cry as humans on Earth will be out of pain, but he never said it was out of the grief of leaving this paradise, fear of being alone, and yearning for the half of our soul we’ve been separated from. Again.
At least that’s what I learned from the play.
​
The crowd flows out of the auditorium in pairs. There must be an odd number of chairs because I’m the only one who went through the exit alone.
​
“This was a waste of time,” I tell Niel, but he doesn’t seem to hear me over the exit music.
Navigating through a swarm of people, even one trying to organize themselves takes some effort, so we link arms without saying a word and go with the flow, ending up at a bar in the same building as the theatre.
The place is cramped, but that’s probably because the actors are here too. The lead actor seems to be enjoying the growing circle around his table, performing a chain of card tricks with his leading lady.
“You can get closer,” Jo suggests. “Tell them you liked the play.”
“Everyone left in pairs. He wasn’t there.”
“Oh, come on!” Jo throws her head back in frustration, and Niel throws me a look from behind her as he signals the bartender. She’s ready to scold me, to go on about the fact that that was not why she brought me here, but I don’t give her the chance.
“And you would’ve made a better script, but the songs were good.”
She smiles, pleased. “Good is an understatement, but yes, I would’ve changed the spoken lines a bit.”
“She edited mine.”
“Paula!” Jo bounces up, then freezes.
The actress looks prettier up close, even with her hair undone and lipstick partially gone.
“You know I won’t stop you from hugging me.” With all the physical contact she had on stage, especially with the lead, I didn’t think she’d be the type to mind. It’s odd seeing the actors separated. They look good together.
Jo unfreezes herself and squeezes the shorter brunette.
“I know you’ll forget,” Paula speaks as she hugs the writer back, “but do try to remember that I love you, Jo.”
“Aww, I hope we get to work together on Earth,” Jo replies as she pulls away, and takes a good look at Paula’s dark brown eyes. “You better meet me before Niel though, or he might make you his bandmate before I can give you a role.”
“I’ll steer clear of all Niels before I meet a Jo then.”
“Jo, it’s our song!” Niel exclaims at the sound of a beat starting a new song and grabs his girl’s hand to pull her to the shrinking dance floor.
“Thank God.” Paula exhales as she takes Jo’s seat. She signals the bartender, holding three fingers up and drawing an invisible circle with it near her cheek. “I’ve exceeded my quota for physical contact today.”
“You did well.” It’s the first thing that comes out of my mouth. If it was one of the guys I’ve drawn, I’m sure I would’ve thought of a better response to what she was saying.
“Thanks.” I can’t tell if she’s thanking me for the compliment, or the bartender for her wine. She’s not as big on eye contact as she was on stage.
“So, is your soulmate a co-actor?” Okay. In my defense, the play was about finding soulmates — the challenge and the importance of it even. What else am I supposed to ask to start a conversation?
“No idea.”
“You mean … you don’t know what his passion is, or …?”
She doesn’t say anything; just shakes her head.
“But how long have you been here?”
“Uhh, two hundred and two days, I think?”
Good God. She has at least a week left — five if she’s lucky — but she doesn’t seem to care. She might not be born at all.
“Aren’t you worried?”
“About what?”
“Girl?! Your play was literally about finding soulmates. Aren’t you afraid you won’t exist?”
​
“Says who?” Her confidence? Astounding. I bet she has a clock counting down to the exact time she’ll meet her man, and she’s just waiting patiently. I’ve met a few of those – guys who rejected me so fast with utmost faith in their pendants and watches.
​
Except she has nothing on her wrist or around her neck.
“I already exist.”
“What if you’re not born?”
“Honestly?” Paula twists her entire body to face me, leaning one arm on the bar. “I don’t care. I love it here. I love performing, and if two hundred and something days of doing it is all the life I have, so be it.”
“That means you don’t get to take the test on Earth.”
“Or fate messes up and lets me take the test alone.”
“Like that’s even possible.”
“It’s probably not,” she shrugs, “but it’s fine.”
Fine? Fine?! Being obliterated into smaller than the smallest of dust is not fine.
​
She’s kidding. She has to be. Her soulmate might be at the opposite end of this world. Attachment to her guild is enough reason to anchor her here, in the southeast. Being too lazy to move to someplace so far is as valid a reason as any. I’ve met a few guys who did the same.
“When did you give up?” I ask, only to humor her in the hopes of finding out why she’d lie. I finish half of my previously untouched beer before she finds an answer on the ceiling.
“It’s been weeks, but now that you mention it, I’m officially giving up today.”
​
What?!
She chuckles. You should see the look on your face.
​
Flustered, I shut my mouth, only for a question to make its way out my lips a second after. “Aren’t you being unfair to your soulmate?”
“Do you even know what a soulmate is?”
“‘Half of the soul you once had in your past life.’”
“That’s Dre’s line.” Paula almost smiles as she points out. “I take it you’re looking for yours right now.”
“Well, duh! What kind of lunatic wouldn’t?”
She smirks at that. “So you’re new.”
“What happened to not giving up on the love of your life?” That’s what her character was all about. I can’t believe the actress’s views — or anyone’s, really — could be the complete opposite.
She lifts her glass slightly and swirls the red liquid. “Everyone’s first question is ‘How do I find my soulmate? Where do I look? When do we meet? How do I know? What if we never meet?’” She pauses, setting her glass down. “That was a lot of questions. The point is, no one asks why we lost them in the first place.”
I feel attacked. So much so that I realize too late I had already emptied Jo’s bottle. “What are you saying?”
“Don’t take my word for it or fate might decide I really shouldn’t exist, but what kind of deity would mold creatures in their likeness only to cleave them in half? Or what if we lost them because we don’t need them in the first place?”
“No one leaves this place without a soulmate.” Jo said so herself.
“Maybe no one does because they’re too afraid to.” Paula counters coolly.
“Okay. I am not hearing —”
“Hey, come dance with us!” Jo calls out as the couple trip towards us.
Paula shakes her head immediately, and Niel looks at me with a pleading pout.
“Go,” Paula tells me, pointing out Jo’s folded hands with a nod.
It’s unfair she gets a pass from putting up with Jo’s uncharacteristic arm-twisting. She’s the actress; she’s obligated to mingle with supporters and was even previously under the tall brunette’s wing if I’m not reading their interactions wrong.
“You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
So I do.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jo asks as she pulls me to the dance floor.
I realize I’ve never danced with anyone before. All I’ve ever done was talk to people, sometimes eat or walk with them, but nothing else.
I answer, “Your friend is weird.”
​
“Oh, I know. I’ve never seen anyone obsess over their soulmates as you have.” Being the taller one, she places my hands on her with a playful smile.
It feels good, dancing. It would’ve been better if we were on a double date, but this will do. For now.
“Niel is definitely rubbing off on you.”
“Please. You’ve only known me for like a dozen days.” And the entire time, she was like an older sister to me. I don’t check on her as much as she checks on me, but I never thought she’d be friends with someone like Paula. Jo encourages me to find my soulmate as much as she reminds me to take a break.
“Does she always talk with finality?”
Her eyes narrow in confusion. “Paula? She’s too indecisive for that. She’s pretty good at acting though.”
I agree. She looks more like a resolute woman than an aimless soul. Shame she’s not spending her remaining days with purpose.
I stumble on the streets with the lovebirds, trying to stay under the canopy with them.
​
God, I don’t get why those dumb clouds decide to pour at the worst possible time, every damn time.
Maybe I shouldn’t have talked to the actor — Herbert, I heard others call him, not Dre — and stayed with the couple instead. Niel loves Jo too much to try and stop her from downing shot after shot in my absence. I get his point though — there aren’t a lot of rules here, and no amount of toxic substances would harm our bodies, so we might as well make the most of it.
But I didn’t get to make the most of it. Sure, it wasn’t entirely pointless — some of the couples knew searching souls like me, and Herbert’s network is wider than mine — but I could’ve talked to more. If Jo hadn’t forced me to dance, I could’ve asked Paula if she knew anyone who might be my soulmate.
If she gave up, then that means she tried first. She must’ve met a lot of people and gone through a lot of rejection for her to see things the way she does now.
It’s past the 23rd hour on the clock when we arrive at our floor, and exactly half an hour before tomorrow when we reach Niel’s apartment.
“Thanks, B.” Niel huffs as soon as we lay Jo on the bed. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
He heads straight for the bathroom, and I lead myself out of their place and into the hallway in time to see a girl in an emerald dress and a gold belt climbing up the stairs alone. I’ve never seen her around here before, but then again, I’ve never stayed out this late.
“Not making a lot of friends with that mentality, I see.”
“And how many have you made?” She replies without looking down.
“More than you.” Folly, I know, but I can’t take back what I said. It is what I see after all. Why else would an actress walk home alone without an escort? Even couples walk with newcomers so they don’t feel alone. It’s basic etiquette.
She doesn’t respond. She just glances at me, and I somehow feel her waiting for an actual answer.
“Two.” She probably won’t hear it over my footsteps rushing up the steps anyway.
“Three,” Paula says when I catch up.
That doesn’t seem right. I mean, really – more than two hundred days, and she’s only made three friends? Impossible. It sounds more like a correction.
“Just because you’re an actress, doesn’t mean everyone wants to be friends with you.”
Paula stops at the next landing and turns to face me. “Bold of you to assume that’s what I meant.” She takes a step back down, and heat rises in my cheeks. Embarrassment? Or maybe celebrities just have that effect. I don’t know.
But does she even count as one? Probably not if she only has three friends.
“I appreciate you walking with me though. Can I walk you home?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Friendly or not, connections are connections. Her co-actors and whoever else might help me find my soulmate. Better yet, she might have already met him back when she was still searching.
“So, um,” I take a step back, “why did you give up on —?”
​
Damn it, Paula! We could’ve taken the elevator.
​
She pauses next to me so we’re on the same step, and mumbles something about being grateful to the inventor of railings.
Sure, I wouldn't have died if I fell, and any broken bones would heal overnight, but I’m nowhere near interested in knowing how that feels.
“I already told you,” she answers as we continue our descent. “I just don’t care anymore.”
“If the world goes off balance because you two vanish, I’ll tell the world you’re to blame.”
“Nice to know I’ll be remembered, but by then, you’d be blaming people who don’t exist.”
Good point. And if they don’t exist, there’s technically no one to blame. They would be no one. Gone. Erased. Forgotten.
​
“Can I come in?” Paula pulls me away from my thoughts, and I realize I’ve already entered the living room and taken off my jacket with the door still open.
It’s getting late, is what I mean to tell her, but my voice box rejected that input, and for whatever reason, forwarded it to my feet that somehow processed it as a signal to give way.
She scans the room before she enters, as if wary of hidden cameras or booby traps. In the next moment, she has her eyes locked on the gallery. “You sure this is a guy you’re going to marry?” She sounds indifferent, but it looks like she’s scrutinizing my favorite work — well, second to the one in my pocket.
​
“That one’s taken.” If he wasn’t, that sketch would still be in my pocket.
“Siblings can be soulmates, you know.”
First off, just no. No. Second? “Um, isn’t there supposed to be a gap?”
​
“Never heard of twins?” Paula says as she moves on to the next item of interest.
​
Well, that was stupid.
With her eyes trained on the guitar at the corner, she asks, “Do you play?”
“Games, not instruments.”
“So,” she picks up a racket leaning on the wall adjacent to the instrument, “you play?”
“Yeah, I think I can.”
She nods in acknowledgment. “Yuu and Aya — they’re twins. Yuu used to be paralyzed, and Aya — well, good thing this isn’t Earth yet because it would’ve been pretty hard to redeem herself. Good thing Mitch dragged her to Yuu.”
I’ve never heard of such a case before — both siblings and paralysis — but I’ve heard of Mitch, the DJ who always ate blueberry pancakes for breakfast in the west, and played Chloe’s songs on repeat during downtime across that restaurant.
“What were their passions?”
“Leadership and dancing.”
“What the —” Mitch and Chloe’s were both music, and they had a hard time finding each other for over two dozen days, but this?
“Yeah.” Paula saves her ears from a curse. “So do you have any, um, disabilities?
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Are you tone deaf?” She takes a coin out of her pocket and rolls it across her fingers as she scans all four walls and corners again.
“No? I mean, I can tell if someone’s off-key.”
“Colorblind?”
“Do you not see the amount of paint that I have?”
“You can have all the colors and still see them wrong.” Her reply is swift as if compensating for how slowly I had enunciated my question.
“And I’m guessing no tattoos and timers.” The coin stops between her ring and pinky fingers.
“Yeah,” I reply with a sigh. Those would have made this all easier.
“So. Your person would know how to play the guitar.”
My person?
My person.
God, that sounds nice.
“You think so?”
“What did you think all this stuff is for?” Paula’s question counters my excitement as she gestures at the guitar, the untouched ointments, and the dusty books. She walks back to the door as if retreating in defeat, or maybe guilt upon realizing how harsh she sounded.
I’d say Niel, first aid, and Jo, but maybe not.
​
“I only know one though.” She almost sounds disappointed. Or maybe regretful.
​
Just one? You performed with an orchestra, and you only know one guitarist?
“What — Niel?” Ridiculous.
“What? No.” The way she opens the door makes it seem like she’s more bothered than I am by the absurdity. “He’s a bassist.”
Oh, right. Jo always pointed out the difference, but I never paid attention. Guess I should’ve.
“Thanks for letting me in,” Paula faces me and dips her head as she quietly swings the door close, “and for seeing the show.”
“Wait! You haven’t —”
— told me his name.
​
By the time I’ve completely reopened the door and gone out the hallway, the elevator doors are already closing. I never thought I’d be betrayed by the location of my own unit. The distance from my door to the elevator lounge has always been convenient to me; I’ve never seen it work so conveniently for someone else.
​
Well, that was helpful.
​“No, it’s just — misery loves company.”
​
“No, it doesn’t. It’s the miserable who do.”