What If Our Life Threads Bind?

Chapter 11.

I wanted to crawl out of my skin as I finish reading the documentaries Lila had set for me. Thankfully, there were just two stories that I had to read about. But the death of both the protagonists put me to the edge.

The first one was about a man called Henry, a man in his twenties. Henry Fischerman was one of the most popular guys in the high school, dated the most beautiful girl in the school- Rhonda. He had a thing for racing cars and bikes, fancied sports as a career.

He was almost living a perfect life when once at twilight he decided to drive near the falls. The tragic happened there; he drove his car a little farther than he should have and the next second, he was off the cliff and into the stream. He hit his head on a rock lying ashore. He now lies in the hospital in the emergency unit breathing his last breath.

According to Lila, its his time. He has to leave and I have to help him end his life but I had closed the documentary and reached out for the second one, procrastinating what I am ought to do. This is what I do when I have to end a life of someone I get attached to while reading their documentaries. I spare their lives just for a few minutes, buying them to live their life for the last time by setting their life documentary aside.

The other story followed a man in his sixties, his name Trevor. His life has been far from good from the beginning; luck betraying him. He dated and got married to the woman he loved but found out that she had been cheating with his best friend, spending time with him under his bed sheets.

Trevor used to get drunk in unrequited and betrayal of love, used to beat their only son. As inevitably possible, the son grew up to hate his father and left the house one evening with his mother, living with some man who was once Trevor's friend. His ex life married the man and because of his aggressive attitude towards everything and bad temper, he got fired from by his own father who was the boss in the office he worked in.

In depression, Trevor started taking drugs. He was just living as a beggar when one day he met his son again, happy with a girl. His son beat and kicked his father until his face was a bloody mess.

After two years, the son reappeared and asked him how he was. He was astonished and wondered if he was hallucinating or was it real. His son had found out about his mother and that she cheated. He introduced him to his girlfriend and they were happy again when one day, Trevor stopped responding to his de-addicting medicines for drugs. He lies shaking on the floor, foam in his mouth while his son and the girl are outside on a vacation.

I open the last page of the documentary which had the tapestry attached and did the same for the previous documentary, eyes filled with tears on the untimely death of both the fictional protagonists. I start to sing the song of death and the tapestry shines in my hands as I take the shears, slowly cutting through.

I have a bit of a yarn
A tale of the time that won't pass
A story that spins in my hands
The end to your mortal act

A soul's thread is easy to bend
Than a spinning wheel
That has to come to an end.

Cause I'm the call to your death
I'll write the last of your breath
But even if your soul dies,
your story won't end!

You have completed your portion
in each one's life in proportion
Drawn to few, woven by some
To last of your yarn, all said and done.

So, give your worn soul to me
to sew it into my tapestry
for what else is a soul
but just an old story?

Cause I'm the call to your death
I'll write the last of your breath
But even if your soul dies,
your story won't end!

Close your eyes and sleep
as eternal as deep
Close your eyes and sleep
that up your soul sweeps.

Cause I'm the call to your death
I'll write the last of your breath
But even if your soul dies,
your story won't end!

I feel the tears drying on my skin as I end the song and cut the last of the tapestry. I try not to remember the very first time I sung this song. I was born with this song in my ears and this was the only song I knew for a long time in my life; The song of death, a song that ends life and takes your soul painlessly, lulling you into a deep sleep that no ones get up from. My first mortal friend, we were playing in her house when she asked me to sing a song. Not knowing the consequences, I watched my first mortal friend die at the age of mere four years.

Other Gods and Goddesses love their powers but I hate to be a cause of fear. Sometimes I feel I am not meant to be the Goddess of Death. Chloe and Lila always tell me to resign the innocence that I have in me and to cultivate myself as someone cold and punishing, someone that is supposed to be feared and unforgiving. But its not me.

I have sung my songs and lulled millions of people into an endless sleep of death but every time I do that, I feel selfish and rude. Who am I to judge a life of someone and when is it supposed to end? Sighing, I got up from my work-table and sat on my bed, blankly staring at the wall.

***

"Our little Martha..Always lost in her own thoughts."

I jump a little at Lila's voice and try to smile. I have a pen in my hand and a blank notebook in the other. How long have I been sitting here like this?

I take a quick glance at the clock. "Its two in the morning!" I yelped. What was I thinking?

"Yeah. Anything wrong, doll?" She strides towards me and sat down on the other end of my bed. I hesitated if I should tell her about the dream and those green eyes. "Are you sad after reading those documentaries?"

"Guess so." I sighed audibly and she kept a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. "I don't like my job, Lila. I hate killing people."

She cocks her head to one side with a knowing look, "Martha...Death is the opposite of life but-"

"A part of life. I know that. But I don't like it." I told her and kept 'I don't even live and I am still an immortal. Those who live, they are mortals.' to myself.

"I don't know why lives of strangers bothers you so much. You don't even know them."

"I know all about them. Every single detail. I get attached." I almost sound like a five year old whining about homework.

"Listen Martha..your purpose is not to bring peace but to bring a sense of existence of void. Death is also a cause of rebirth. We motivate others and make others careless; fearless about what life brings upon us. One day, it'll all come to an end. One won't have anything to lose." She says and I sigh. "Don't worry. It'll get easy." She gets up and begins to leave.

"Should it?" She says more to herself and then suddenly remembers. "Lila, I saw a dream!"

"What?" She leans back inside from the door.

"Something about threads and they were in different colors. Tangled up and then a pair of hands tried to roll they up but failed to do so..something like that. I don't know what I saw exactly." I scratch the back of my neck and she hums.

"I'll talk to Augury about it."