On Writing

Prompt 17 – The Woman of Wyrrd by Lynn V. Andrews & Yin Link

Book: The Woman of Wyrrd – The Arousal of the Inner Fire
Author: Lynn V. Andrews
Genre: Non-fiction, spirituality
Page 17, line 17
Prompt chosen by me.

“It felt heavy and oddly warm, as if it had just been worn.”

The first word that came to my mind when I read this sentence was: Soul. (I capitalize the word because it deserves to be capitalized.) How often do you think of your Soul? Where does it live in your body? Does it move around? Does it grow and shrink with each shifting season? Do you believe that it is one Soul and one Soul alone – the one in your body or is a Soul a thing of many accumulated into the one in you? Can a Soul move from body to body in real-time? Do you use the word Soulmate? Do you have a Soulmate? Has your Soul ever felt ‘oddly warm, as if it had just been worn’?

I have a recurring scene that plays in my head like a movie short. I don’t know if it’s remnants of another Soul mingling in mine that likes to play with my memories and show up now and again…or if it’s a great idea for an actual film…or maybe it’s both. But here’s the scene:


A team of three SURGEONS and a huddle of SIX NURSES gather around a naked male body on the operating table. There is little movement, but for the masks of those in the room pulsing with breath.

A large white round light hangs above them like a serious sun. Machines hum and beep in a steady rhythm.

Above, a packed observation room watches the surgery below. DOCTORS, NURSES, RESIDENTS, even a few ADMINISTRATORS hold their breath.

Of the three surgeons, a FEMALE, puts her gloved hands over the naked torso of the male body.


The male surgeon to her left, hands her a scalpel. Dr. Wallace’s hand is shaking as she takes the tool.

She moves her eyes up the body of the man in front of her. His face is serene. She can see his heartbeat under his skin like a finger is poking from within him.

I will cut an incision. Watch closely.
These things move quickly and are
prone to hiding.

Everyone in the OR and the observatory sucks in a breath.
Dr. Wallace makes a slow cut down the centre of the man’s body. She hands the scalpel to a nurse whose hand is waiting.

Dr. Wallace relaxes her shoulders, and puts her hands on the incision which is beginning to bleed.

The two other surgeons add their gloved hands to the incision line.

On three.
One. Two. Three.

Six hands slowly open the incision. A flash of light whips across the plump red insides, tucks behind a rib.

A collective gasp.

Dr. Wallace smiles under her mask.

That, my curious friends, is
a Soul.

Collective clapping happens in the observatory, but can’t be heard in the OR. Instead, a machine begins to beep loudly.


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