The Red String

 

 

The Red String

 

Some say that when two people are meant to be, a red string connects them. Wrapped around the middle finger, no normal human can see it. It does not tug, snag, or break. If everyone could see the strings, there would be no mistakes. No heartache. I would not be sitting next to her, brushing away her tears, unseen. Yet I hoped, begged, that one day she could see the string… and me.

 

Ema used to see me… a very long time ago. I was her vision of the perfect man, waiting for her inside her head when she felt like retreating. For years she would slip into daydream, to a place that was her own quiet escape. I sat in the tall grass, leaning back on my hands and enjoying the mist from the waterfall behind. Ema always thought waterfalls were calming, beautiful things. She would come to me, face bright and eager, and we would spend hours talking about everything under the sun. I spoke with her gently, looked at her warmly, and she enjoyed every minute of it.

 

Like a black cloud in my world, Ema’s high school years came upon us. She started to visit me less and less, preferring to run out with her new friends. They put dangerous thoughts in her head, ones that endangered my very existence. Why do you always have your head in the clouds, they tittered, come join the real world. Slowly, Ema started to give in to their demands. Then she started to believe them. Why imagine love when she should go out and find it? She let her imagination turn rusty. Ema stopped coming all together.

 

Abandoned, her world of rest crumbled. The waterfall dried out and the grass turned brown and hard. The clouds covered the sky with a dark blanket, hiding the sun. Being the strongest part of her dreams, I did not fall away like the rest. However, I felt myself wither and shake as the sky went dark. Sometimes I would look down at myself and see nothing. I was dying… no, dreams do not die. We fade and disappear into the dark recesses of the human mind. Once trapped in that quiet black, there was little hope to ever re-emerge.

As her world disappeared around me, I burned with rage. I did not want to leave; I did not want to give up. The string around my finger, the one I had since my creation, was attached to hers. I could not leave her. I started to run, my feet pounding on nothing, following the red line. I could hear my breath and the echo of my movements but I dared not look away. A light shone and I ran into it, closing my eyes as I charged ahead. When I opened them, I was standing in Ema’s room… in the real world.

 

The soft purple of the walls glowed with the moon’s light. I walked towards the bed, carefully stepping over the messy clothes. There she was, curled up in the covers. She looked like a delicate little creature, twisted up in a mess of sheets and pillows, her body fighting against the chilly night. My lips curled as she sighed. I slowly reached out with a shaky hand and touched her russet curls. They were solid and soft against my hand. I could scarcely breathe as I laid a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her. My heart thudded in my ears – I could not wait for her to get up. “It’s me,” I whispered fiercely, “wake up and see me!”

 

Her eyes fluttered open, dark brown, and she licked her dry lips absently. Her eyes traveled to the window and then her alarm clock. Ema grumbled and looked at me… no… through me, and settled back into sleep. I felt my body freeze over, dread dripping down my spine. “Ema!” I hissed, but she would not wake. I shook her and she swatted at my hand. She could not see me. I was invisible to her.

 

The days ahead seemed like a blur. I would watch her, my eyes moist with tears, as she got ready each morning, humming to herself as she searched through her closet. For a while, I would not leave her room. I spent days examining every inch of her room, getting to know her more through her things. What had she done since she had forsaken me? Her clothes were tomboyish and casual, and her room held the remains of her girly childhood. I sifted through her photo albums, memorizing every face, every smile. I read the textbooks she left home. She loved to read at night, bouncing onto her bed with a book in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. She ripped through the pages, her eyes moving quickly to devour each word as her lips wrapped around each crumb. In her pajamas I could see her soft, round curves. They had not changed from her past visits. Her laugh would echo from the downstairs kitchen, rich and natural. When she blushed, her ears and shoulders turned pink. This was Ema, the girl I loved.

 

* * *

 

One day, I heard a new voice downstairs. I was used to hers and her mother’s and this extra tone brought me down the stairs for the first time. Ema was standing just inside the kitchen, gripping the arm of a boy I didn’t know. He looked her age, tanned and strong, with a shaved haircut. He had a proud smirk on his face that I didn’t like, but Ema was oblivious to it. I took a seat on an empty chair and watched.

 

“Mom,” She smiled, “I’d like to introduce you to someone special.”

 

Her mother, a slender brunette, looked up from the stack of wet dishes. She smiled thoughtfully, her eyes on where Ema hugged the boy. “Oh?” she innocently asked, her eyebrows rose, “Who might you be?”

 

The boy jumped forward, dislodging himself from Ema in one swift movement. She stumbled a bit, not expecting that to happen. I felt the creases on my forehead deepen. My stomach burned. “My name is Jake,” He announced, holding out his hand for a shake. His tiny eyes glittered with practiced charm, “Jake Milton. Nice to meet you.”

 

Her mother’s hands were still wet and soapy from the dishes so she paused before his hand, deciding whether to shake. Finally she shrugged, engaging him in a loose shake. She let go quickly. “Nice to meet you too, Jake.” She looked at Ema, “Will he be staying for dinner?”

 

He wiped his wet hand on his pant leg.

 

“No,” She replied, “he was nice enough to drive me home before heading to practice.”

“Really,” He grinned, “It was no problem at all.”

 

“Alright then,” Her mother sighed, grabbing a towel. “Well, thank you for driving my daughter home.”

 

“I’ll go walk him out,” Ema volunteered.

 

The two of them left the kitchen and I could hear Ema’s laughter as she walked out the door. A car was started, and I heard her mother let out a heavy sigh. She wiped a plate idly, staring out at nothing. Her lips formed a surprised smile, and she whispered, “Ah, they grow up so fast.”

 

Yes, I thought, nodding sadly. Her mother could not see me either, but I almost felt like she was talking to me.

 

That night, Ema called up a friend and talked for hours about Jake. How handsome he was, with those high cheekbones and muscular frame. How smart he was, with grade point average nestled next to the smartest of nerds. How skilled he was, the star of the school’s baseball team. Every word that poured from her mouth stung like the prick of a needle. When she finally went to sleep, I stumbled into the bathroom. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, touching and pulling at my face as I shook. What was wrong with me? When did I lose her? A sob hitched in my throat and I gripped the counter, head touching the cool marble. Was I ugly? Was I worthless? Was I stupid? How could I answer these questions, find my own self-worth, when I was made in Ema’s image?

 

Looking into the mirror, I saw my face, truly, for the first time. My face was oval-shaped, smooth and lean, with healthy tanned skin. My hair was what Ema called ‘sufer-ish,’ dirty blond and curling at the base of my neck. My eyes were expressive and deep blue, underneath arched eyebrows. I knew my body was fit; smaller muscles than Jake’s rippled under my skin, impressive in their own right. Wasn’t I what she always dreamed of?

 

Tears dribbled down my face and I slumped to the floor, finally giving up. I let them fall. I realized that these were the tears I refused to shed since she left me. They stayed bottled up inside. Now that I had proof that she moved on, the hurt came back. She found someone real and tangible, someone who could make her happy. And what was I? A broken toy? My shoulders shook as I heaved out another bout of wetness. My throat imitated my sadness; moans and sobs escaping with each exhale. I felt like the inside of me was empty, that I was really invisible.

 

I wiped my cheeks, gazing down at my hand. There it was, glowing in the moonlight. The red string. I stood up and followed the string into the hall, dragged along by a shred of will left in my weak frame. I wandered back to Ema’s room. She shifted in her sleep, wrapped in her cocoon of blankets. Her hand, silver in the night, slipped out and formed a fist next to her face. The string led to her bed and I looked over and saw what I knew was there but had to see. The other end of my string was wrapped securely around her freed middle finger. I watched it twist in the night, scarlet and vibrant despite its thin appearance. I gently brushed back Ema’s bangs from her face, and she smiled in her sleep. She whispered Jake’s name, and my heart lurched.

 

She couldn’t see me… I knew my relationship with her was not to be. We may have shared the red string, but for us, that didn’t mean anything. I knew that I could make her happy, blissfully so, if I was given the chance. But what chance did I have? The string was not enough. I knew, with a heavy heart, that she would not meet her true love in the real world. Perhaps she would find something close… but that lucky man would never be on the other end of the string. I lost my hope, and with it, I felt a new purpose. I wanted to watch over her, be there for her. Like a guardian angel. I smiled to myself; she would be happy if I could help it. To finalize my resolve, I brushed my lips against her cool forehead. She sighed and snuggled closer to her pillows.  

 

* * *

I watched Ema for almost five months. I followed her to school, went to Jake’s baseball games and slept nearby when she went to sleep. The string was a sad reminder, but I learned to ignore it.

 

Her friends surprised her one night, dressing her up and sending her off to the school dance. Jake was waiting for her and they spent the night dancing in each other’s arms. He surprised her by riding his bike to her part time job, buying the most expensive ice cream cone and flirting with her as she made change. I stood helpless outside the bathroom door, listening to her sob in the shower, wondering if he felt the same as she. He asked her out, the night of their church’s party, under the fireworks. She did not hesitate to say ‘yes’. 

  

I was there when she and Jake went on their first date to movie theatre. I looked away when they shared their first kiss. As the days weaved into the next, I felt myself become more and more distant. I watched as a scientist would through a glass window, as a mouse tried to find the cheese.

 

Ema searched for the perfect Christmas present, shouting with glee when she discovered a fancy dark chocolate bar – his favorite. Her smile faded when he thanked her, awkwardly hugging her with his arm. He went on vacation, promised to send her his gift. His gift, I realized, was as invisible as me. Even more so, because there was no gift. He had lied. She grew quiet around him and he did not seem to care. They still went out but their kisses sunk to pecks. Her friends noticed she was unhappy. Ema cries could not be hidden with the pounding water of the shower.

 

Then, the day came when Jake and Ema broke up. Ema did the deed and it had been swift. She was prepared for a fight, for Jake to argue with her. Nothing like that happened. When she asked to separate, he simply agreed. He did not even want to know why. Relieved but shocked, she stayed at school until the building was empty and clouds deposited rain upon the earth.

 

She ran out into the rain, gasping as the chilly water broke through her sweatshirt. She had no choice but to walk home. There were no more rides from Jake and her mother was working late. She had no umbrella. I followed behind her, jogging as she ran feet first into giant puddles. The wind whipped wildly and threw her hood back. Her curly hair flattened to her face as it got drenched and she did not try to pull it back on.

 

I was not wet, though I should have been. The wind only touched me briefly. I was fading away, back to the pitch black. I could no longer feel her soft skin or even the touch of cool air on my forehead. I was leaving this world… it was only a matter of time. But I would watch her until I left.

 

She passed the bus stop: a small, wooden bench with a gutter. This puddle was too much for her; her foot slipped and she fell face first into the icy pool. She got up onto her knees, fingers digging into her jeans with frustration. She did not get up. Instead, her head dropped in her lap and bawled. They were miserable noises straight from her soul. I reached out a hand to touch her, hold her. But I couldn’t. She wouldn’t even feel me. I let my hand drop.

 

A soft mew caught her attention. She looked up to find a pair of yellow eyes staring back at her, curious and sad. The kitten was no bigger than the palm of my hand and it looked like a water rat, saturated and shivering. The tiny thing must have been born only weeks before. The kittens pink nose twitched as it inched closer, trying to decide what to do with Ema.

 

Ema ignored the rain now, wiping her nose lightly on the back of her sleeve. She blinked back the unshed tears and held out her arms, smiling bitterly at the kitten. I felt my heart, however far away, tremble in my chest. “C’mere,” She cooed softly, “I won’t hurt you.”

 

The kitten seemed to understand. The wet thing leaped into the safe haven of her moist arms, protected from the blast of the rain by Ema’s bigger frame. The kitten mewed again and rubbed against her stomach.

 

She laughed softly, holding the kitten to her chest. “You’re friendly, aren’t you?” she whispered, stroking its nose with a gentle finger. She picked herself up, walking slowly and carefully over to the wooden bench. She sat down, shivering as the wind blew against her pink cheeks. She made no move to go home. “I will take you with me,” She assured it, “but I need a little time. Please let me stay here a bit longer.”

 

The kitten seemed to understand, blinking its yellow eyes and snuggling closer. I figured the poor thing didn’t know any better than the cruel streets.

 

I came up beside her, watching her stare ahead, her dark eyes focused on something that I couldn’t see. Her lips trembled and she closed her eyes for a moment. “You know,” She started, “one day I am going to look back on this and laugh. My first relationship… a disaster.” Her laugh was forced. “I mean,” She mumbled, “I don’t regret breaking up. It’s just that… well, I am lonely.”

 

The kitten mewed in what could have been agreement.

 

“I always dreamed of meeting that someone special,” She admitted, teeth chattering. “It was something I always thought about. Even from when I was a little kid; the prince on the white horse was my goal.” She paused and sighed, her breath a cloud of fog, “I wanted something I could never had… I thought my expectations were so high. There are no such things as fairy tale princes.”

 

Yes, there are, I thought, the voice in my head a soft whisper. I wish I could have been.

 

“I thought there was nothing wrong with me crying. I thought it was normal, that this was reality and I wasn’t adjusting.” She turned serious, “I stayed with him too long. I was in denial. I thought… there was something wrong with me.”

 

No, I insisted, you are perfect. The hand in front of me faded in and out.

 

She paused again, letting the rain trickle over her unturned face. She breathed in deeply, her eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. I could see no more sadness. She was searching for something. My hand became solid again. Her eyes opened, and there was strange recognition hidden there. That, and laughter. She looked down at the kitten, a genuine smile on her face. “I just remembered something… I think.”

 

The creature looked at her, amused.

 

“It was silly,” She started, blushing beneath her rain-roughed cheeks. She stroked the kitten’s back, twirling her fingers in its scraggly curls. “When I was a kid, I always daydreamed about… well, everything. These dreams seemed so real to me that, even as I got older, I could not let them go. There was…” She blushed redder, “a young man I made up. He was… he was everything to me. Every second of the way I could scrap together, I would imagine myself there with him, in my field… with the waterfall.”

 

Her laughter, the one I loved so much, met my ears and warmed them. I closed my eyes and let that sound fill me, wrap around my fading heart. Her laughter… she was remembering me. Slowly, but surely. What did that mean? I felt a few drops hit my heated skin. A stronger wind rustled my hair.

 

Ema didn’t look up, had not dared to. Her eyes held a glassy, distant look, and her smile stayed frozen on her face. “It’s coming back to me now, you know? We used to talk for hours at night, when I had the time to see him. During the day, in those brief moments, I would lie in his arms in the grass, under the warm sun.” She shivered when she said the word ‘sun’. Her mouth dropped a bit as she seemed to remember something else. “His name…” She struggled, “his name was... was…”

 

What was my name? Did I ever have one?

 

“Ah!” She said, “I know! I called him Liam.” She eyes grew warm, “That’s what it was…”

 

When she said my name – Liam – it was like a valve opened inside of me, spilling hot blood through my veins. The rain fell so heavy on me that all my clothes stuck to my body, molding me. I felt more alive than I did in months, maybe more than when I lived by the waterfall. My breathing came in hurried gasps, no louder than the smacking of the rain against concrete. I shivered inside my skin; I did not blink. I could not tear my eyes from her face.

 

“That was a long time ago,” She frowned, curling the cat hair. “I… I can’t believe I remember him. It seemed so long ago… when did it all stop?” Her eyes widened, and she pouted, “I remember that too. I stopped when they caught me. My friends, my teachers… mother never seemed bothered by it. Well, they told me to stop. I would never find love if I hid in my mind.” A soft cry broke though her lips, “I did what they said… and all I found was heartbreak. Fear. I wished… I could find someone like him. Now, I think, he was better than anyone. I could never find someone like Liam. I…” Her last sentence died on her lips and she began to cry again. It was something different, no longer connected to Jake, or even this world. She, I realized, was crying for me.

 

I crept close to her, leaning on my knees before the bench. Scarcely breathing, I brushed a hand against her shoulder. She shivered, but would not move from her position. Frowning, I wondered if there was no magic. Was I still invisible to her?

 

Her middle finger twitched. I caught my breath. She lifted her hands away from her face, sniffing as she studied her hand. She let a few tears drop from her eyes to see clearly, and stared in wonder. “A string,” She murmured, “since when…?” The string I saw… the one that led me to her… she could see it too!

 

I placed a finger under her chin, so fast she didn’t see it, and slowly lifted her head up to see me. Her eyes did not pass through me. They widened, dark and beautiful, and searched my face in wonder. Her tongue was caught in her throat, for she tried to speak, but no sound came from her lips. Her cheeks, her lovely ears, turned crimson, and her hands shook as they reached out.

 

The kitten let out a small hiss and jumped from Ema’s lap, getting wet briefly before taking shelter under the bench.

 

I only watched her, memorizing her face, a soft smile on my lips. I let her chin go, and she reached for me. I stayed still as she brushed a shaky finger down my cheek. It traveled across my nose and down my jaw line, and her other fingers joined in. They traced my face, trails of gentle fire. I held her hand and pressed it against my cheek, closing my eyes and sighing softly.

 

She blushed, her eyes moist, and a subtle whisper of a word met his ears, “Liam,” My name, a small caress. For her, I could guess, it was like seeing an old friend again. A very old friend, one you never expected to ever see again. One you would have loved to see. We shared everything together over those years and I could see that recognition light her features. The best of friends, all secrets shared.

 

I knew her better than anyone.

I loved her. .

 

“It’s been a long time,” I murmured, looking up at her. “I was… beginning to wonder if you had abandoned me.” The old fear I had bubbled up. I knew I was wrong to doubt but…

 

“No,” She whispered, shaking her head furiously. Her short hair curled around her delicate face. Her face tightened, she choked, “No, I didn’t mean. I- my fri… oh…”

 

I put a finger to her lips, softened by her response. It didn’t need to be coherent. I hushed her, rubbing a hand on her shoulder.

 

She took a deep breath, determined to say something. “I’m sorry,” Ema stated, searching my face. “I should have taken better care of you. I created you, and you made me happy.” She smiled, “I don’t know how such a miracle happened and why I am lucky enough to have you standing before me, but I won’t take this for granted.” She rocked forward, her warm breath close, and whispered, “I loved you first, Liam, and I love you now.” She fell towards me, her arms wrapping around my neck like they were meant to be there. Ema waited until I looked down at her, sitting in my lap, before she captured my lips with hers.

 

It was not the gentle, slow kiss that we should have shared. This was our first, and the kiss should have been that way. Instead, we pressed against each other like we could never get close enough. My hands wrapped around her waist, massaging her back through her drenched sweatshirt. Her hands were in my hair, running through it and back to my neck. Her breasts pressed against my chest and I moaned, the sensation so new to me. Rain continued to drop from the sky, drops dripping down our noses and hitting the place where our mouths connected. Ema whimpered as we kissed, small noises making my heart flip over and over. Our lips pushed and slid against each others. My tongue warmed her trembling lips, touching her own so tenderly that we both shuddered in response.

 

A frustrated mewl broke the moment, and we reluctantly parted. She looked over at the kitten and humor lit her eyes when she turned back to me. “I think he wants to go somewhere warm.”

 

“I think you’re right,” I laughed, helping Ema up. I reached under the bench, balancing the kitten carefully in my hand. The sodden creature tensed at first, but allowed me to scoop it up. I looked up at the sky and a drop splashed my eye. I twitched and laughed, saying, “We’ll catch colds if we are out here any longer.”

 

Ema sneezed.

 

I cocked an eyebrow.

 

“Too late,” She mumbled, covering her nose.

 

I put my arm around her, and we held the kitten between us. Some time passed in order to reach home, with all the sneezing and puddles, but when we did, Ema’s mother greeted us at the door. She had not expected me, of course, but decided to help Ema before asking me anything. I dried off the kitten, smiling as it puffed out like a ball of wool. The creature’s color, I noted, was orange and brown. Round eyes blinked up at me. Then, as the kitchen counter turned a distinctive yellow, I realized the kitten was a boy.

 

Ema’s mother found a change of clothes I could borrow, and we sat in the living room, warming ourselves by the tiny fireplace. As Ema and her mother took turns asking me questions, Ema sat curled against me on the couch, snuggling into my shoulder. She held a cup of hot water, sipping it occasionally, and I had to keep it steady when she sneezed. She’d look up apologetically with her red nose, and I never saw anything so cute.

 

“How… did you know it was meant to be?” Her mother asked, after hours of interrogation. She watched me fascinated, a steady hand petting the kitten. She had stars in her eyes – the realization of magic. She was happy for Ema, I noticed, truly happy this time.

 

“…the string?” Ema whispered, looking up at him. “The red one?”

 

I nodded.

 

“A string?” Her mother asked, curious. “What is that?”

 

The kitten purred.

 

“Well,” I started, watching Ema fondly, “some say that when two people are meant to be, a red string connects them…”

 

The End            

 

             

 

Author's Note

Back up and ready to roll!

Reviews

[Fantasyfairy]

Oh my goodness! I am so glad Pauline decided to share this with me. I loved it, once I started to read I couldn't stop. I usually hate stories like this, all hearts and flowers, but this had me entranced. It was such an enchanting, beautiful story! I loved the whole thing, so new and fresh, and a wonderfully different storyline than anything I have read before.

When he was disappearing I thought I would cry, it was so sad to think that she had created him and that beautiful world for him and then forgotten all about any of it. The red string that connescted them was such a different concept to anything before. I loved the whole thing.

I agree with the other reviewers, this should be published. It's such a modern day fairy tale that people would love it, and it would make a great movie, extended a little of course, but still beautiful. I cannot praise this story enough and it is going on my profile for everyone else to read. XX

[Dashiell Paulson]

I agree with the other reviewers that this is definitely worthy of publishing. It�s a good story and superbly written. Honestly, I felt like I was reading a classic :D

[Jrquick]

I'm not much for romance stories but I reallt thoguht this one was very well written. I like where you used the idea of a string that connects everyone, keep it up. JR.

[Chrissy]

I agree with everyone else, this was very good. In some parts it sounded as if there was a rhyme to it, without you really trying. Like it!

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

This story is soo good .. I enjoyed it so much..never heard of the red string, is that your own?
I agree it is truly a breathtaking story with a nice ending.Very well written.

Chloe

[Wulfstan Crumble]

Wow. i was spellbound throughout that read. This is the best story i have read on here. The story changed and developed amazingly well. The concept of the red-string is such a beautiful one. The link of love. Predestined perhaps. And of course red is the colour of love as well as anger and war.

Your weaved your plot with a wizard's skill. At first i felt scared for Ema because the narrator seemed to be a bit of stalker, well a spiritual one or haunting ghost of sorts. I like how you kept the reality pinned back for a good length of time. You revealed the truth with subtle aplomb. The emotions were kept in check, the dialogue was perfect.

I like the metaphor that real true love, the knight on a white horse, the perfect love is a figment of a girl's imagination. The fantastical elements that allowed her to make this true love, Liam, true was worked very well. This is a new favourite piece and shall be placed on my profile for others to see.

Truly breathtaking!

[Deluxe_247]

Gosh I loved it. You have a very clear picutre on romance. This was truly inspiring to me. The level of emotional I felt was like watching a movie. I saw what was happening in my head.

You should publish this, sign it and give me the first copy LOL.

I could almost feel the level of love Liam experienced. BTW I love the red string. No idea how you came up with that. Pure genius.

I will look back on this site for more. :)

You should keep this up was truly amazing.

[Jasmina Amethyst Pendra..]

Awww...the romance is so perfect. I have always believed that everyone has another half of their soul. I believe that no one is truly complete until they find tat one person that completes them. They are connected always. The concept of having a red string tying them together was genius. You are so truly gifted. This is publish worthy. Great job. ~Liv

[Rei]

I love romance and this was the perfect story of romance. Better than romeo and juliet. The idea of the red string was a very beautiful idea that is so romantic to think that someone has another person that is meant for them. Alos the idea of the person we dream about; the perfect guy or girl coming to real life was just genius as well. The story was very well written and I agree that you will be published one day. Also the pain that Liam felt having to only watch his true love was well brought ut with your word usage. Great story all around!!

[Kelley Pascoe]

WOW Shadkim this was really good!!! Every story of yours I read gets better and better. I really liked this one and the thought of a person coming to life from your dreams is amazing. Where do you come up with such great stories? I think you will get published some day. Great write!!
Thanks for sharing. I really liked the idea of the RED string. Very romantic.
Kelley Frost