This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Isilathor on 2024-11-04 05:35:14+00:00.
“Welcome, little Traveler,” said a soft voice.
I looked around me in awe. There were no walls, no ceiling. I felt a floor beneath my feet, but I could not discern it. The vast darkness of space stretched out in all directions, with stars above and below flashing and glittering like dew caught on a spider’s web strung across the heavens.
Three figures stood before me. Or was it one? They looked like women, but her features were uncertain. My head swam if I stared too long. The one on left was wearing a sheer, loose fitting shift, that fell from a shoulder and exposed her pale skin. No, wait, it was a high-collared dress, with colors that shifted from silver to blue to red to yellow, mirroring the stars around it. The one on the right was wearing a red head scarf.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“You gave us many names.” The girl said. “We’ve been named Maat, Laima, Matres, and Matrones. We have been called Urðr, Verðandi, and Skuld. We are Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. The Moirai. The Parcae. You may call me Maiden. These are my younger sisters.”
“You may call me Mother,” said the middle one.
“And I am Death,” said the oldest. “We are your Fate.”
The dewy threads that stretched across the heavens seemed to pull tighter around me. My throat felt tight and the vast Space around me suddenly seemed very small.
“Why have you come here, Traveler?” Asked Mother.
“Come where?” The words stuck in my throat and came out like a squeak.
“Our home. I have welcomed you as is polite, but now answer me, why have you come here?”
“I don’t… I don’t remember…” I squeezed my eyes shut and cupped my face in my hands. My head has really started to hurt.
“If you don’t have a reason for being here, then you must leave!” The words of Death made my pounding headache worse. The stars flashed too brightly.
“Wait! Am I dead?” I asked.
“Ha!” Croaked the old woman older than the universe. “You are not dead yet, little Traveler. But you soon may be.”
“Hush, little sister,” said Maiden. Her skin smooth and shining, her voice light and airy and older than any galaxy. “We cannot tell them how their thread ends.”
“Hmph. A headstrong and unwilling species, the lot of them. Thinking they know best,” sniffed Death.
“Sisters, do not bicker in front of our guest. It seems our Traveler has misstepped out of time and place, and we treat our guests with kindness, despite my grudge against them,” said Mother.
My stomach felt like it was inside out, and my brain felt like cold syrup as the woman spoke amongst themselves. “Wait. Sorry. Why do you have a grudge against me?”
“We hold a grudge against the entire human race,” she said.
“Why?”
“You would not understand.” Sneered the old woman.
“But we will tell you all the same, despite my little sister’s attitude,” said Maiden. “We are not bound by the rules of time, as so many creatures are. I see the Beginnings. The Births. The Coming of Age.”
“I see the Life as it is in the Moment,” said Mother. “The Present. I do not see chains of the Past. Nor do I see the paths of the Future. I see what is, and the Potential contained within.”
“And I see the inevitable end,” said Death. “The conclusion of Life. The culmination of all that was wrought with the allotted Time.”
My heart thudded in my chest as I listened to Fate. It was hard to breathe. I felt like I was being crushed. Ughhh my head!
“Very few creatures can see the threads of their life,” said Maiden. “Most can’t even see what’s right in front of them.”
“We can see their threads,” said Mother. “We can see the colors and shades of each Life, of each interaction, and we can weave these Threads together.”
“We weave beautiful tapestries of Life!” Cried Maiden.
“Wait,” I croaked, “you manipulate people’s lives?”
“Creatures cannot see their own Threads!” Said Death. “They can barely see their own Past, let alone their Future! Left alone, they weave nothing but Chaos, and Threads fray and weaken and break before their time.”
“We have woven countless Tapestries across the Galaxies,” continued Death. “We pull and weave the Threads and the Lives follow their Fate. They are content and we create beauty.”
“We came to humanity long ago,” said Mother. “We tried to weave a beautiful Tapestry. But we encountered something we had not encountered before, the object of our grudge.”
“They pulled the Threads from us!” Interrupted Maiden. “We tried to weave their Threads, but they pulled them from us!”
“There were some, or course,” said Mother. “They allowed us to weave their Threads and they followed their Fate with contentment, but our grip was never sure. The weaving was always loose.”
“They could slip their Threads from our grasp with no warning!” Hissed Death. “They would not listen to their Fate! Their Threads became tangled and frayed. Have you seen a Thread that is Frayed? No clear, strong path, but tattered and unraveled and branching and splaying out in a thousand different directions! A million strands! A billion possible choices!” Death screeched and flapped her hands in exacerbation.
“Humans,” said Maiden. “You insisted on making your own Fate. Which, ironically, is what brought you here.” She gestured out towards the stars, and I followed her pointing finger toward a bright dot an impossible distance away.
As I stared and focused, the bright dot seemed to draw closer. A shining ship sailing upon the accretion disk of a black hole. My ship. Caught within the black hole’s gravity, unable to escape.
“Do you remember now, little Traveler? The maelstrom of time and space and gravity that brought you to my house?”
“I remember,” I said. The crushing pain in head now made a certain sense.
“Then you know what must come next,” said Death. She held a shining Thread in one hand, and a pair of shears in the other.
“Yes,” I said, “I know.” I reached a heavy hand toward my chest, felt my heart hammering within, my blood pounding through my arteries. I felt the Thread of my life between my fingers. “I know that you are not My Fate!” and I pulled my Thread.