Fate

Ever since I was little, I wanted to have my own show. A comedy; I wanted to make other people smile.

So when I started seeing the strings, I was devastated.

Not everyone could see them; I could though. I think some other people could; that one boy who doesn't try? Doesn't get good grades even with his cleverness? He looked up at me the day I saw them and pointed right at mine.

That girl who sits at the back of class and draws instead of listening? She saw them too and gave up.

One by one, I see other people realizing their strings. Becoming happier or obsessed or sad. And I didn't know why.

There was nothing special about them. Everyone had them. Tied to our little pinkies and leading off to who knows where.

Then one day, while I was sitting in class, I needed to know. And I needed to know because the boy told me;

"I can help you find the end of your string."

So after school I took his hand, and we just walked. We walked and walked and walked until my feet hurt. They hurt so bad, but we kept walking.

And then we stopped.

We were in a graveyard.

"Where are we?" 

He pointed at an empty spot on the dead grass. Surrounding it were miles and miles of stone and grave heads, but this spot was empty. And planted in the ground between two little daisies, was my string.

I looked at the boy, and he nodded. I got down on my knees and scraped roughly at the frozen dirt. I cupped my hands and threw out piles of ground, until... I found the end of my string.

On the end was a little picture of a gravestone. Imprinted on it were the words "Katie killoney; may you rest peacefully in all of our hearts." I swallowed. That was MY name.

I looked up at the boy, alarmed. He made a pointing gesture, and let his hand trail all around him.

I looked up again and noticed MILLIONS of little strings dancing around and over and under the graves.

I picked up my string in a hurry and held it carefully between my sweaty palms. The boy followed me as I started retracing our steps, keeping the string in my tight grasp.

I walked backwards. A picture of an old woman on a white bed.

Back further. A picture of a slightly younger woman, sleeping on a tattered couch in a dark room, all alone.

More. A middle aged woman, working at night in an office space. 

Even more. A younger adult, working in an even smaller space.

Keep going. A young adult, being rejected for some kind of job offer.

Come on... A teenager, working in a fast food place.

And- I slammed my back into my school locker. I was at the beginning of my string. I was at the first picture, the one closest to my finger. I peered closely at it. Me.

It was me.

"Its your fate." the boy sighed.

"No. No no no- I wanted to be a comedian! I wanted to make people laugh-!" 

"We don't all get what we want." he looked sadly at his own string. Then glanced at the strings of every other person. Of the countless people who were starting to realise their destinies.

And then I understood. I pushed open my locker and fumbled between books and papers. My hand touched briefly what I was looking for; my pencil case. I took it out and unzipped the top. Taking a deep breath, I stared the boy in the eye, and took out a pair of scissors.

"This needs to stop."

I cut my string.