The thread of life is a delicate thing. It is so easily broken.
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“The Author’s writing style and plot-line quickly immersed me in the story; such that the cold, bleak winter days riding the bus and subway in Berlin vanished. I was in the story…so much, that I missed my stop two times!” – Amazon Customer
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Fates and humans don’t interact. Ever.
“It takes some time to find the right materials. I lose track of how long I stand there, staring into the pot, waiting for what I need. Some days, it comes easily, and we can do hundreds of thousands of lives, keeping up with the growing demand of the expanding population of Earth. As I stare into the darkness, I realize today is not going to be one of those days. The girls know better than to push me. I have earned my reputation as one of the best Spinners in history for a reason. I know what I’m doing, and so they wait patiently — Horatia sharpening her blades, and Galenia staring off into the distance, clearly daydreaming. She does this so frequently that someone who didn’t know better would think she’s spacey. I often wonder what she daydreams about. Even though she’s the one who decides how the lives we create will end, I know she’s too sweet to be dreaming of death. I smile to myself as I watch her vacant expression. When I look back into the cauldron, the life is there. I reach in and pull out everything I need to create her, a pink mass of glittering wonder. As I turn her over in my hands, she shines iridescently against the low light of our room. Even Horatia gasps at the sight of her. I carefully attach her to the wheel and begin my work. An actor, that’s what she will be. And a singer, with the most beautiful voice the world has ever heard. This strand I’m creating speaks to my heart in a way I’ve never experienced. She will work on Broadway. She will make it big. Her life will be perfect in every way possible. To my disbelief, I start to see her in my mind’s eye. Normally, I never get a detailed picture of the people I create — I only know the basics of who they are and what they are meant to do. Their appearance is irrelevant. But this one shows herself to me. Her green, almond-shaped eyes look at me as if they truly see me. Her brown hair with natural blonde highlights will make her stand out among any crowd, as will her full, pouty lips–ones that I could kiss forever. I shake myself as I spin her thread. I can’t kiss a human. Fates and humans don’t interact. Ever.”