The Soul Collector

He’d had recurring headaches

Since the age of fifty-three,

But ten years further on

He said they’d stopped, quite suddenly,

He woke one morning, after dawn

Confused, his wife had said:

‘He looked quite strangely at me, asked

Why I was in his bed?’

 

‘I said I was his wife, but he

Said no, his wife was Gwen,

He’d left her twenty years before,

She’d gone with other men.

I said, “Look Brad, I’ve known you

Thirty years, that’s just not true!”

He said his name was Pilkington,

‘Ted Pilkington to you!’ ’

 

‘I took him for an MRI

They said there’s nothing wrong,

I brought him home against his will,

He said: ‘You must be strong!

I lied about the Pilkington,

I’m really Wizard Rolle.

I wander house to house and feed

Upon the weakest soul.’

 

‘I thought it was dementia

I thought that he was mad,

I cried a lot, those first few days

I’d lost my husband, Brad.

He wandered round the garden

Looking lost that afternoon,

But when I woke on Saturday

I found that he had gone.’

 

‘I saw him down the marketplace

On Monday, after lunch,

He manned a stand with celery

Tried selling me a bunch.

I said come home, he wouldn’t budge

He said his name was Tom,

Tom Anderson, the produce man,

He said to move along.’

 

‘He started coming home each night

It really was absurd,

He’d sit and eat his meal with me

Without saying a word,

And then he’d sleep all through the night

And leave before the dawn,

He never went to places twice,

He was the devil’s spawn!’

 

‘One day he was the baker

Came delivering our bread,

I asked just who was he today

And this is what he said:

‘I told you, I’m the Wizard Rolle

Don’t question me again,

I go out there, collecting souls,

But only souls of men!’ ’

 

‘I only get the quiet ones,

The ones no longer young,

They’ve usually been married

To some hellfire with a tongue,

They’ve taken it so many years

They’ve nothing left to give,

There’s nothing left to fight with

I say, ‘Come with me, and live!’

 

‘And that was when I stabbed him

With my scissors, in the throat,

He gurgled once, and fell so I

Just covered him with my coat,

The next day when the baker called

I said to him, ‘Come in!’

He thought that he had fooled me

But I knew that that was him!’

 

‘The milkman’s lying in the hall

The neighbour’s in there too,

For all those souls were Wizard Rolle’s

I knew what I must do,

I got Tom in the marketplace

Where everyone could see,

I only want my husband back,

Can you find Brad for me?’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Tate Morgan]

They’ve usually been married
To some hellfire with a tongue,
Now there's a tale with some legs to it.Now isn't that just like a create a crazed ex-wife blame her husband's dementia on the rest of the town.Having been married to a harpy once in my life. I'm so glad that that's not the case now and perhaps dementia will pass me by.

[Becky C Strukamp]

The woman in this could truly be some of the men I've dated. Your creative mind certainly should take a bow with this one!

[Tom Robert Cowpey]

hahahh this is mental!

[Lena M. P.]

You are a truly sick a person David. This split personality disorder and a wife would plan to rid the world of all the alternate selves was a hoot. Served him right for sending her off the deep end. Bad enough to put up with one of you for 30 years without taking on the entire village of whiny men! LOL Too funny.

[quinfinn]

whew! i think he was married to sybil's evil twin, the doppelganger, libys.....either way, this is one well thought out and fascinating story with a real "grab your balls" ending. this is wonderful poetry!