Thread Unraveling Novels & Stories

Lila The pulse circle began to shake. Not broken. But uncertain. And my thread the one wrapped around my sleeve for thirty-seven days? It slid loose. Hit the earth. And stayed still.

In fact, it didn't feel like anything at all—it was a total absence of thermal conductivity. "It’s dead thread," Silas murmured, poking a strand with the tip of his wooden needle. The wood didn't catch; the thread simply slid off the point as if it were oiled. "You can't form a knot with this, Luna. There’s no friction. If you try to cast on a row, the stitches will just slide right off the needle before you can purl the return."

he said I spoke slowly, choosing my words with caution, and asked, "What does all of this have to do with me, exactly?" He didn’t answer immediately. As I stood there, I felt his hand brush against mine once more, this time his fingers wrapping around the rope that bound my wrists. The fibers of the rope seemed to shift and loosen, ever so slightly, although he didn't actually untie me. “Everything,” he said at last. “Come on, tell me what's going on,”I said, pushing for an answer. “Is it your group, someone who wants to hurt you, or maybe someone else entirely?”

That some people— Some places— Were already too far gone. I tightened my grip on the thread. Tried to pull it closer. To reinforce it. For a second— It worked. The thread brightened slightly. Stabilized. Hope flickered. Then— It snapped. The force of it jolted through me, sharp and sudden, forcing a gasp from my lips. “Elara!” I staggered slightly, but didn’t fall. The thread dissolved. Gone. And somewhere—

Wound nuzzled against his lover before he became nothing but the skein of yarn Tarsi held gently in his hands. "Now, Purl." The White tom handed the yarn to the other Fate. "This Demon's contract is fulfilled." "And he will be given what is his due." Purl took up a seat in Gran's rocking chair and began to knit Wound's skein, quickly forming what looked like a slightly lumpy scarf. "You do the thing, Intarsia. I need to keep count of the stitches." "What are you doing?" Gran looked back and forth between the Fates. He had no idea what was going on, only that Wound was gone and they were not.

I had managed larger problems than a daughter who had found the wrong thread and begun to pull it. The question was not whether I could resolve this. I had resolved considerably more complex situations with considerably less information and considerably less time. The question was what resolution looked like in this specific configuration — where the thread led, how many people were holding it, and what the cleanest way to remove it from their hands before it unraveled far enough to become irreversible looked like. Mirella was not a thread I was willing to cut.

Silas said as we turned onto the mountain road. I rubbed my hands together, still cold even with the heater on. “Just thinking.” “About?” I hesitated, then shrugged. “That thread thing… my dad used to talk about it.” Silas glanced at me. “Thread?” “Yeah. Like… if you pull it too tight, it snaps instantly. If it's too loose, the whole fabric is useless.” I look out the window at the snow-laden pines rushing past us in the dark. “I don’t know. I’m just trying not to completely mess this up tonight.”

The pattern on the slender thread seemed to be moving and constantly changing, almost as if it were alive. “Just as the entire history of the universe can be learned from a single molecule, if you know how to read it. So the history of a whole garment can be found in a single thread. Now, in order to open your eyes, I’m going to have to ask you to close them.” Jimmy shut his eyes as the Tailor moved behind him. He felt the Tailor reach around and place the thread over his eyelids. Then he pulled it taut and tied it behind Jimmy’s head.

There are a lot of conspiracy theories after all, and unlocking one mystery is no longer new and exciting. Did she hope for too much? Even if she tried not to think much about him,it was difficult to do so. To sever a thread that you hold dearly to your heart was like putting the same thread inside the hole of a needle, you don’t know if you will fit and if you did, you have the tendency to go back or get it undone. It may take time for her string to go into the hole and continue doing its purpose, to sew and connect dresses, however, for the time being, she’d enjoy her stay as a string that is free and not binding.

"Then let us do this together. On the count of three we both pull and the thread will break. Okay?" "Okay." "One." I wrapped my hands around the golden thread and felt its warmth pulsing through my fingers. "Two." The girl did the same on her end and I could see tears streaming down her face that matched my own. "Three." We both pulled at the same time and the thread snapped with a sound like glass shattering. Pain exploded through my entire body and I screamed so loudly that I thought my throat would tear. The white space around me started collapsing and the girl started fading away.