Young Writers Society

Following the Red Thread

There's an ancient Chinese myth about The Red Thread of Fate. It says that the gods have tied a red thread around our ankles and attached it to all the people whose lives we we're destined to touch. This thread may stretch, or tangle, but it will never break…

This is my story:

I guess one could say that my life was one that I lived well in many cases. But others would argue that my life was long wasted. My name is Reece Mathers; I’m tall, black haired, blue eyed. Most would tell you that I have a charming and funny personality. I’m a natural leader, some one that would never give up on something that they had set their minds too. I can’t really argue with that, seeing as how those particular things lead me to my death…

But that’s skipping too far ahead; let me start from the beginning.

February 29th 2008

My seventeenth birthday, the day started fairly normal. I was awoken by my mother, who was as tender and loving as any other mother could be on the birthday of her eldest son.

“Good Morning Sweetheart!” she said with a smile. “Happy Birthday”

I got up out of bed, hugging her.

“Thanks mom…”

She kissed me on the cheek.

“Sorry that you have to go to school on your birthday, but I made a special breakfast for you. So go ahead and get ready so you can eat.” She said, walking out of the door.

I walked out of my room and into the bathroom, I took a five minute shower, the water was warmer than usual. When I got out of the shower I dried off, brushing my hair thoroughly. Then of course I brushed it back into a mess, covering my forehead just above my eyes.

When I got back into my room, I dressed in a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a black and blue t-shirt. For some reason I decided to look down, what I saw was a shock.

Tied around my right ankle, I could just barely make out a thin red string.

“What the…” I said

I bent down, reaching toward the string. It was indeed tied to my ankle, yet there didn’t seem to be any knot connecting it. It just looked like I was attached.

I followed the path of the thread with my eyes; it ran out of my door, then down the stairs.

“Intriguing” – I said to myself.

I walked out of the door to my room, down the stairs. Then into the living room, inside of the kitchen was my mother busily cooking breakfast. I could see that the red thread connected to her ankle as well, it ran out the door to the backyard.

I turned to face the couch, seated on the bigger couch was my little sister Catherine who was thirteen. She shot me a look between bites of toast, her attention partially consumed by the Morning News.

She had her long legs crossed and propped up on the coffee table that was in the center of the living room surrounded by our two couches and a reclining chair for dad. By the looks of it, there was a red thread on attached to her ankle as well. I curved around the couch and connected to the string on my ankle about a foot in front of me.

“Happy Birthday Brother,” she said. “Congratulations on surviving seventeen years”

“Thanks Sis,” I retorted

For breakfast my mom had made my favorite breakfast; Chocolate Chip Pancakes. I made sure to put an extra amount of syrup over the top, delicious. But during the time I was eating, the only thing that I could think about was the string that was attached to my ankle.

Has that always been there?

Why can I just see it now?

Hundreds of questions bounced around in my head. The only thing that was to drain the noisy thoughts in my head was the morning news that we always had on for the morning. We had decided a long time ago that trying to agree what cartoons to watch in the morning had become too much of a hassle. So Catherine suggested the Morning News, no one else had any objections.

The News caster cut from the weather to a Breaking News Bulletin, a car crash on the highway. There was an overhead helicopter that was surveying the damage. After cutting to a camera down on the street, a reporter started interviewing the crash victims. The crash looked fairly gruesome, but no one was seriously injured. They helped a man from his car, I could just barely see, another red thread! Connected to his ankle, seeing this, I could feel the string connected to my ankle became warmer.

I finished my breakfast and got ready for school. I brushed my teeth and grabbed my backpack just in time to walk out the door and walk the couple blocks to my school. Rosevelt High was a small school compared to some of the high schools in the other districts. But it was ranked high when it came to GPA’s.

I met my friends outside of the school in the courtyard before heading inside.

“Happy Birthday Leap Year!” said my best friend Sasha Brooks.

Sasha and I had been best friends since fifth grade, we did everything together. Next to her was my other best friend Chess Martin. He and I were forced to be friends when our fathers started to work together at the same law firm. Eventually, we became best friends.

We walked together until Sasha had to veer off to her home room. She was a little bit shorter than me; long black hair usually covered her face or was pushed behind her ears. She had these kind grey eyes that just made you melt. She was turning the heads of boys and breaking hearts ever since sixth grade. That’s my girl…

Me and Chess walked into our home room and sat in the very last two corner seats next to the computers.

Chess was the same height as me; he wore glasses with a black plastic rim. His face was covered in freckles and acne. His red hair was very thin and was usually kept long enough to cover his forehead. But never long enough to cover his eyes.

Our Home room teacher talked on and on about something boring enough for me and Chess not to listen, but important enough to grab the attention of the rest of the class. Not that she ever grabbed me and Chess’ attention.

The rest of the day was typically normal, except for the multiple perks of my birthday. Several birthday greetings, a cupcake at lunch; that sort of thing. But the whole of the school day, I was staring down at my ankle.

Over the course of the day I discovered that this red thread was connected to a lot of people in my school. There were a few students whom I had never met before, but the rest I had come to an acquaintance with.

I didn’t tell anyone about the thread. When I was asked about my staring down at peoples ankles, I played it off as me just thinking.

When I got home I put all my stuff in my room, and the family went to dinner. A birthday dinner none the less, we went to Old Chicago (my favorite restaurant, not Catherine’s though which is why I picked it).

We went home to a cake and ice cream, and spent the rest of the night playing video games. But every so often, I would stare at my ankle and inquire silently about the origin of the thread. And then, satisfied I’d spent enough time thinking about this thing that was attached to my ankle. I went to bed.

When I woke up the next morning, the thread was gone…