The Invisible Red String Novels & Stories

I comment harshly, going through the lines of red bands. Most are pretty and eye catching, I will admit. This silly tradition and pining for a mate all seems too far out of reach for someone like me. Ivan grumbles, deciding not to quip back at me. “Don’t tell me you also believe in this bull crap about a red string finding your mate.” “And if I do?” I ask, looking up at him. “…you know, it's a popularly known fact that red strings symbolize fate.” “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

At first, she was only feeling one link but after about a minute, she was able to perceive the strings of the criminals in the room. When she opened her eyes, a web-formed line threaded its corners. It made it possible for her to see the strings from their body, bridging all the way to the cross around them. These life-strings were a thin sheet of nylon-like energy that determined the length of a Wielder’s life. She marked all of them with only one stare, making sure to keep her mind blank, though now and then she’d see the cruel fate the children had to face. It was distracting her hard.

They have a connection that was impossible for them to have in the first place. Dame could see it, the little red string, a string tied up on Lyra's wrist. He often sees this string on humans. It connects them to the person that they were meant to meet, the one that their past lives longed for. But he never saw anything like hers. Lyra had a string on her wrist that was cut off. It looked like it was forcefully cut. However, at the end of the string, he kept on trying to wrap around Derrick's wrist.

The four stings had a power and a mind of their own because they never touched and each would move out of the way of the other if they drifted in the same or different directions that would cause them to collide. Finally, there was a fourth string. It was as if this came from outside me because I felt a power being pulled out of me. This one was fire itself. I could tell because it was brighter than the rest and it was reddish-orange-ish and it seemed as if it could burn one if one dared touch it. I gasped in shock as I looked at the way the strings coloured the whole room as if there was a disco light lighting the place. “What do you see?" Aunt Kula asked and this time, I remembered that I

I scoffed quietly. The same words, the same actions, the same expression. Blood poured from below her belly, staining the seat of my Ferrari. "Madeline! Please hold on, it's a red light!" Madeline clutched her belly, her voice rising in a sharp, piercing tone. "Matt, are you trying to kill me? You've got to run the red light! I can't take it anymore!" I twirled my finger absentmindedly on the steering wheel. "Madeline, running the red light is illegal and I'll get a fine. We should be good citizens, right?"

A conflict of interest. That evening, while I bought food at the cafeteria, I overheard an irritated nurse complaining to her friends. "I swear that new intern slipped some kind of love potion into Dr. Ross' coffee. She recognized one patient as her elementary school classmate and told him about it. You know what he did? "He forcibly delayed surgery for an older woman from the thirteenth floor to this Wednesday. That's Dr. Silva's day. His hands can barely hold a scalpel anymore. How is this—"

My collection has been given a prominent space, and several people are already gathered around, discussing my work quietly. “Iris, this is extraordinary,” Hunter murmurs as we walk slowly through the exhibition space. “You’ve outdone yourself.” A warm glow of pride spreads through me. I glance over at my star piece, which I’ve titled “Red Thread”. It’s an image of a hand tangled in a thin red thread. The thread wraps so tightly around some of the fingers that they’re beginning to turn purple. In some spots, the thread cuts straight into the skin, beading red blood along the surface of the palm—specifically where the “life line” is. The thread eventually moves off the canvas altogether, indic

He was exactly as the priestess described. Possessed. “This shouldn't be happening.” The priestess was panicking. “This has never happened before. The Inka powder renders us invisible to the red demon. How is this… how is this…” The black wisps of power around him grew larger, floating towards the iron bars protecting us, testing and prodding. He prowled closer, his growl growing more threatening. Those glowing red eyes moved around like he was searching for something, then he sniffed the air.

I go straight into my explanation before he gets a chance to be confused. “It’s the exact same red as the threads I see. I had it spelled so it should repel dirt and water. It should be pretty much unbreakable to any reasonable amount of force, and it should grow or shrink to adapt to whatever form you happen to be in. There’s also a safekeeping spell. It shouldn’t fall off or come off unless you intentionally remove it…” Bellamy is staring at me wide eyed and not saying anything. I keep babbling awkwardly, filling the silence.

When she was done, she placed herself in front of the mirror and combed her hair. It came to her mind how Jonah invited her today, that definitely made her day and smiled. However, her feelings changed from happiness to sadness remembering Sean did not agreed to let her go to the party. It was unfair from his part not to even consider letting her go. Suddenly her reflection disappeared from the mirror, and she no longer saw herself. She looked at her hands and she couldn't see them, neither any part of her body. A long-terrified scream came from her mouth.