First attempt at writing a story, so don't come in with too high expectations. I'm aware my grammar isn't the best, but if you find anything glaringly obvious please PM me. On a quick note if the OC becomes too awful tell me. If a character is too OOC, tell me. I've been ignored as a reviewer, and I know how frustrating it is, so please; any complaints, just let me know and I'll do what I can.
Hope you enjoy
Fate's Gold Thread
Chapter 1
A thousand souls, a thousand thousand souls, there are so many. They are ebbing and flowing all around me. I can count them, but counting them takes eons. I decide. I can see them, they are moving at a pace incomprehensible to the human eye, yet I see them. I decide. I can sense it. The time is almost upon me. I must make my move. I select, I choose. I decide. My hands are spinning now, the thread golden, full of life. The souls flow to me, all begging to be chosen. I grab one, its live flashes, and I weave the pattern into the thread. It hums, I can hear it; a low, rumbling hum that crescendoes into a raging howl. The thread is alive, it is moving. I see a light, and throw my spindle through. The light slams shut again, and I pick up another spindle. The souls ebb endlessly.
I'm weaving, as I have been. My spindles are running out. I spin and spin and spin and spin. I am approaching my last spindle. I must make more. I call, but no one answers. I trace the endless sea of souls, the new ones are being created, they are separated, monsters, humans, other. I can tell which is which, they are different. Some are destined for greatness, but that is not my decision. A whisper here, a murmur there, my sisters always take my choices into consideration, they're such dears. The light opens, and I send myself through.
I'm running, flitting from conscious to conscious, assuming control for a split-second then relinquishing, moving on to the next. I log everything, a child's smile, a mother's frown, love at first sight, the shock of a betrayal. I remember it all, for it will be much time before I can see it again. The ideas of a generation and the technological advances flash in my mind, imprinting on my memory. The gap since I've last been here has been centuries. It saddens me. I have missed so many of my souls go through their lives. Perhaps I can leave my realm for a little while longer. My flitting slows, I am caught in thought, a memory. A man dying and a dog, one of hell's, ripping into him. A demon stands beside, I recognise her soul, it was one of the first. Disfigured almost beyond recognition, her names returns to me, slowly. I can see now, it was not her fault. She was a victim. It was not her acts that warped her soul, but another's. I remember her now: Lilith. I sense her time is not long for the world, before her soul is taken. The memory fades, and I'm running again, tangled in human emotion and demonic thoughts. A vampire, clutching at a bloody stump in the throes of death. A werewolf, tearing through a would-be rapist's chest, eating his still-beating heart. A ghoul, feasting on a decomposing body, tearing through stone and dirt to find the flesh.
I collect my spindles and return, making up for lost time with overworking. I have a moment of freedom, there is no demand. The souls have frozen in time. I gather myself, and weave my conscious into a body, my knowledge into a mind, and my abilities into a soul. I have created myself in a life, a body. I reach again, this time drawing darkness, and use what is left of me to make an imprint. This being will suit my needs, it will complete my jobs, until I am to return. My souls is waiting, but it can wait. I count the souls again, they are endless, yet they are counted. Like lights in the ocean they glisten and gleam, calling to me. I tell them that I will be gone for some time, but that I have left a new caretaker for them. They will be well looked after, it is partly me of course. I return to my soul, spinning its thread on my spindle, almost ready to depart. My dark world lights up, and my sister appears. Not my eldest, she is far too busy, but the other. She stares at my creation, my soul, and then to me.
"Are you sure?" She says, plainly. My sister has always made her meanings clear. She prefers to not repeat herself, and would rather appear plain than waste time. It is something her and my other sister share, they both value time far too much. I have an endless expanse of it.
"I am sure." I reply. I need to be clear, or she will not agree. "This is my decision. I have seen the worlds above, and I wish to be a part of them."
She stares at me, her face blank. I can see her mental process. She has evaluated all possible arguments against all my possible points, in the blink of an eye.
"Very well." She says. I allow myself to smile. The unused muscles tinge with pain, and she turns on her heel and departs, leaving me in my world. I have been called both female and male before, yet I am neither. I am above the human conceptions, I care not for their disagreements over such a petty thing. I am Clotho. I am the Fate of Birth. I decide when you are born, and how you are born. I decide your early circumstances. My sister, Lachesis, she decides how you live. It was she who decided that the World Wars were necessary, and she bid the creation of the wheel, the gun, the bomb, the hospital. She has saved and destroyed more lives than most can count, yet she counts them. My eldest sister, Atropos, has dominion over your death. When it is your time, she will come for you, arrange your circumstances to perfection, then leave for Death to do his work.
I have seen a birth, ready. Time slows to a standstill, and I see the light open. The souls are ebbing, they are crying out, trying to make me stay. I seize myself, my new body, my thread. My thread is humming, I wrap it around myself tightly. I can feel my power being bound, contained. I stare at the light, and jump. I make it through as the light slams shut behind me.
I am alive.
I can hear crying. It's loud, and it wont stop. I can hear a buzzing, but nothing clear. My eyes refuse to open. There's someone speaking, but I can't quite make it out. I know this body is fine, I made it myself. I should be able to do everything, but I can't open my eyes.
Panic surges, and I feel weak legs start to kick, and feeble arms start to move. I can feel a finger on my cheek, and something makes a cooing noise, dissipating my alarm. My eyes are softly drawn open, and I see her. This body's mother. She has brown hair, she's pale, she doesn't look well. Her eyes are bloodshot, she looks half dead from the pain of labour. She smiles weakly, and I feel safe. I know this to be irrational, a biological response to the woman, yet I an calmed. I am passed to a boy, who holds me gingerly. I hear him say to the woman, who I can still barely think of as mother.
"He's very small isn't he". I log the sound of his voice, and the look of his face, it's another pale face, he's all red hair and freckles and has the nervousness of a teenager about him. I commit my gender to memory, it will avoid complications to confuse it later. Humans are particularly picky when it comes to gender, they often fight amongst themselves because of it. I am passed again, to a nurse, who looks worried. I cannot see anything past her now, my eyes are not yet good enough to see the world from afar. I feel my energy being drained, and my eyelids fall as drift off.
I have succeeded. I have a body, a life, and I am ready to live in this world.
Short for a first chapter, but I hope I've captured your attention.
I won't have a set schedule for this, as I've got exams coming up and I don't want to promise you something I can't deliver on.
YouMustBeJoking