Strings of Fate

Not Today, Thank You

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STRINGS OF FATE

Part II: Not Today, Thank You

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There's a ringing, like a high-pitched screeching going over and over. His body ached. He couldn't feel his hands or his feet. His stomach is doing flips. Where is he? He's tossed from side to side, like a raft in a raging sea. A headache pounded in his skull. It only lasted for a second until swaths of color flashed into his eyes.

His eyes are clouded, he can't see, he can't feel, the nausea is suffocating. Ash, fire, sulfur, it comes to light, and it burned. He heard the cries of giant floating beasts and the snarling growls of tusked humanoids. The surrounding colors flickered and danced a harsh, violent dance. Swathes of red and oranges touched his arms as turquoise blue splotches burned into his eyes.

He raises his hand to his eyes for shade. Then it stops. But he can't see, he can't feel. Numb to the world around him. It's pitch black darkness except for the very clothing he wore. His hands, blurry, and a red string dangled tauntingly.

The string tugged his hand. The little crimson strand went rigid and lax, then rigid again. It got longer and longer. Like a snake, its end slithered onward. Coiling over itself and running. Creating loops and tangles. Spontaneous ends dropped from the non-existent walls, it strung across the void-ceiling like thin taut ribbons across a darkened expanse. A greyed haze covered them. It was difficult to see, but they were there.

A red string slipped around his ankle, crawling up and around, binding. It snakes around his arms and hand like a serpent, squeezing the life from him. It coiled around his throat, it's a pulsing crimson. He tried to speak, to scream, but it was choked back. He can only twitch his fingers. He can't feel them.

A bead of white flashes from nothing. They become two; they glow. His stomach is doing flips. Why can't he move? Why can't he run? The eyes get closer; they flare with malice and anger. Its blinding light overcomes his senses as a hand brushes against his cheek. The world shakes.

Steven jolted awake with a yelp.

"OH THANK FUCK!" Alex practically screamed into his ear. Dried marks of tears stuck to her cheeks, her eyes red and puffy. She's hovering over him. She dived to hug him, she's sobbing. Steven gingerly wraps his arms around her, he's fine. Nothing hurts badly. His arm ached. Like a bruise after a nasty bump. He rests his chin on her shoulder. He can see his hands. The gloves are back on as if hastily placed. He's okay.

They both take a long, well-deserved breath of relief.

Steven shuffled to look up to Alex. "Wh... what happened?" He winced at the sound of his voice. It's hoarse and the mere air scratches at his throat, it's uncomfortable.

Alex's eyes flashed back into the panicked daze as if she had seen a ghost. Her face grew distant as she looked into his eyes. She pursed her lips as she found her words. Behind those emerald green eyes was fear. Not of monsters or ghosts, but of losing her best friend.

"He..." She cleared her throat, "He was there, and you were on the ground not moving! I couldn't see if you were breathing or not."

"Alex, look, I'm fine, I'm breathing."

"Steven, you don't understand. He was kneeling right over you, holding your arm, touching you! Like holding his sword about to stab. I... I thought you were dead!" Alex grasped his forearm up near his wrist. Steven could feel the shaking as she let go, "You were limp."