The Red String of Fate

by Rebekah Fowles

  - 1 -

  The cellar was pitch black, only, Vee could still see. Her head was fuzzy and light. Or was it really? Something seemed off. Strange. What had she just been doing? She couldn’t quite recall. She swung her wrist forward to check the time—but she didn’t see the time. She gasped and fell back instead when she saw her arm; it was translucent, and an ethereal shade of blue. She didn’t exactly fall back, either, as she was perfectly suspended in the air a few inches off the ground.

  Vee started to sweat, except there was no sweat. Without the sweat, all that was left was that feeling a person gets when they become incredibly and unexpectedly claustrophobic. She tried taking a few deep breaths. It was odd being unable to discern her lungs expanding or contracting, or whether or not any air was passing through her windpipe. She felt neither cold nor hot. She simply couldn’t feel.

  It took her a moment to calm down, but when she did, she was able to get a better grasp on the situation. The walls were dingy and there were a few bottles of wine. There was nothing particularly spectacular or intriguing about the room itself. ...Nothing except for the giant puddle of dried blood at Vee’s feet.

  Seeing the blood didn’t surprise her as much as she thought it would have. It was pretty clear at this point. Vee was dead. She died and became a ghost, and this is where she was killed. She tried taking another few deep breaths, and when that didn’t work, she closed her eyes. At least that did.

  In the blackness of her own thoughts, Vee tried recalling the situation. It took some effort, but the memories began to visualize.

  Vee wrangled with the tripod while Cassie set up the camera light. Vee liked to keep her hair short, but was grateful it had grown out long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail. Her hair had a tendency of getting a little crazy when she did any sort of grunt work, and as it turned out, putting up filming equipment was more labor intensive than she would’ve previously thought. She hadn’t been part of the journalism club long, so she wasn’t a pro like the guys yet. Since Cassie was also fairly new, they put them in charge of setting up to give them experience. As she twisted the center column lock, her clubmate let out a sigh.

  “That was pretty heavy,” Vee said. “What’s on your mind?”

  Cassie grumbled before replying. “I just...don’t see the point in this, I guess.”

  “You mean, coming to some abandoned cabin in the woods to get footage of one of the guys playing a prank on us? Yeah, I get what you mean,” Vee said.

  Cassie stopped what she was doing and directed all of her attention towards Vee. “So why did you bother coming?”

  “Hmmm...” Vee thought, also distracted from her work, “I guess it sounded fun.”

  “I don’t see what seems so fun about this,” Cassie said. “Ghosts aren’t real, but serial killers and crazy hillbillies are! Just being out here gives me the creeps. And we’re staying overnight, too? No thanks!”

  Vee let out a nervous laugh. “Okay, so why did you bother coming?”

  Cassie heaved another sigh. Vee thought she might wither like a dried plant if continued doing that. “I lost a bet,” she said.

  “A bet? With who?”

  “Kayne. Who else?”

  “Ah, of course,” Vee said. “He does like to stir up trouble.”

  “Tell me about it,” Cassie said. “I suspect Jon was roped in the same way.”

  Vee smiled. “Yeah, I can see that. I wonder how Nick feels about it, though. I think he thought this would be a romantic getaway with Kayne, but once the prez got wind, she ended up making it a big deal.”

  “Yeah, and then she had the gall to not even come. Like, who even does that?”

  Vee laughed. “Well, no matter. We might as well make the best of it.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Cassie said, adjusting the LED panel. “Your phone gets reception out here. My cheapass provider doesn’t give service this far out of the city.”

  “That’s not saying much, considering we’re really not even that far away.”

  “Tell me about it,” Cassie said. “It’s no fair that Nick and Kayne have each other, either. At least they can go make out or something. Jon’s girlfriend would kill me if I tried making a move, too. I can’t believe I’m all alone in the middle of nowhere with no booze to even pass the time...”

  “I mean, you could’ve brought booze...”

  “Did you?”

  “Nah. I don’t hold my alcohol very well and end up making a fool out of myself. I usually end up as the designated driver. Some fun I am, right?”

  Cassie shrugged. “I mean, it’s people like you that keep the rest of us on our feet. So that’s fine, I guess.”

  “Thanks,” Vee said. It made her feel a little better that Cassie didn’t poke fun at her there. Cassie didn’t seem like a bad person, but she certainly knew how to run her mouth. She figured that probably got her in more trouble than she deserved.

  Cassie had joined the journalism club mostly because she was interested in vogue and cosmetology. The club focused on a few different modes of journalism, but Vee really only had an interest in the investigative kind. Things like this trip, even if they were silly and focused on all the wrong things like ghosts and myths, were a fun chance to explore and maybe discover something actually interesting. At the very least, it was a good opportunity for Vee to get to know her clubmates better.

  It was then that Kayne and Nick walked in. Vee noticed them holding hands. They usually didn’t at the university, even if everyone knew they were a couple. “All set?” Kayne asked.

  “Just about,” Vee replied.

  Cassie chime in, “Unless you want us to set up a boom mic. I won’t be the one standing up all night to catch the crickets chirping, though.”

  Everyone laughed. Jon walked in a few moments later, holding a case of Malibu rum in each arm. “Hey, the party better not have gotten started without me!”

  Cassie’s eyes got wide. “Jon, you beautiful angel! Gimme that!”

  Nick hooted as Cassie downed the entire bottle she grabbed from Jon. After an applause from the four of them, Cassie let out a deliberate belch. “Now we’re talkin’!”

  Kayne grabbed some of their audio playback equipment and connected his phone to it, putting on some EDM while Nick worked magic on the three-point lighting kit to effectively serve as a strobe light. How did he do that, Vee wondered. As everyone began dancing and drinking in the spacious living room, Vee settled down on a dusty old sofa. She watched as they quickly went from sober to smashed just a few bottles in, and laughed as they told stories of past exploits without inhibitions. She cheered with the other two when Kayne and Nick kissed. It took well over thirty minutes before Jon thought to approach her though.

  “Hey, Vee! What’s the word? Why aren’t you dancing? Have a drink!”

  “Ah, thanks,” Vee said, “But I probably shouldn’t.”

  “Pfffft. Don’t be like that. What else is there to do? There’s just five of us, and nobody cares. We’re all drunk anyway.”

  Vee eyed the bottle. It had been a while since she’d last been drunk, but that was not a memory she remembered fondly. Mostly because she couldn’t remember at all. When some people drank, they got really angry. Others got more cloistered. She wished she was more like that, but instead, Vee acted like a child. The worst part of it was, she could never recall a single minute of it. On one occasion, people told her that she mooned the guy that was flirting with her while she passed gas without reservation, all while laughing the whole time. It was not something she wished to recreate.

  But that had been a while ago. Things could be different now, right? And Jon was right. There was only so much that could go wrong in a situation like this. It’s not like they were in
Vegas, but surely what happened at the cabin stayed in the cabin.

  “C’mon. Just one never hurts.”

  Vee smiled. “Actually, I’m pretty sure just one always hurts, but what the hell?”

  Vee took the bottle and guzzled down the contents before she could change her mind.

  As Vee returned to the present, she heaved a sigh. She should’ve known better. She wished she could remember something beyond that point, but it was all gone. And so were her clubmates, judging by the color of the blood on the ground. She wished she knew what day it was—or at least what time it was—but her watch had no face on it. She wondered if she had died wearing an analogue watch if it would have still ticked, or maybe shown the time of her death. Instead, it just appeared as if her digital watch had run out of ectoplasm batteries.

  It was in that moment that Vee realized she was still wearing the clothes from that night. It depressed her that the first thing she could think of was that she was grateful she wasn’t stripped naked. At least it suggested that whoever killed her had some shred of decency, right? That, or just maybe she didn’t make too big a fool out of herself. Clearly she had been wasted enough to not have changed into her pajamas, but...well, what did it matter now, anyway?

  She did know what mattered.

  Finding out who killed her, and why.

  As much as she didn’t like thinking about it, it didn’t sit well with Vee knowing that her life had ended early. What hurt worse was that it could be one of her clubmates that did it. She doubted she did something so out of line while drunk that it offended the others to commit murder, but she supposed that could be part of the equation. After all, she didn’t really know any of them particularly well. That was half of what spurred her to accept the request to come in the first place...and now she’d never get that chance.

  Now she was getting distracted. If she was going to figure out who the culprit was, she needed to get out of here. It was time to try something. Vee wasn’t quite sure what to expect when she tried to move, but it was more effortless than she thought. Floating around was just as automatic as walking, and she hardly felt the need to move her legs. If she was going to be dead from now on, it was probably okay finding the silver lining in things, right? She might not be able to enjoy a chocolate sundae anymore, but at least she wouldn’t have to worry about working off the calories. Vee smiled, albeit bleakly, at her own positive attitude. She headed toward the cellar door.

  Vee took a moment to psych herself up before slowly ascending the wooden trap door. She didn’t know why she expected it to feel strange, considering she couldn’t feel anything. It was weird looking at her torso abruptly cutting off in floor, though. Maybe once she got a better idea of what time it was, she’d be able to experiment a little bit. For now, she needed to get outside and determine what time it was.

  In the living room, Vee could see the remnants of the party strewn about the floor and hallways. It disappointed her that none of the others thought to clean up the mess, abandoned cabin or otherwise. Of course, they were probably too hung over to care. Oh! Yet another perk of being dead—no more hangovers. Vee couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

  Instead of waiting around, Vee decided she’d go straight outdoors. Even through drawn curtains, she could see light flitting through, meaning it wasn’t the middle of the night. Not that darkness really seemed to hamper her ability to see. Determined, Vee sped towards a wall.

  And thudded against it.

  For the first time since being dead, Vee felt some sort of tangible force act on her—and that force stopped her from going outside. Not only that, but it seemed to react slightly to her presence. She swore she heard the wall “thump” when she made contact. But why did it stop her from going outside?

  Vee tried again. She was stopped again. That time there was no thud, though. Confused and somewhat frustrated, Vee decided to try the door. No such luck. What about...the chimney? As exhilarating as it was being able to float straight up and see the blue sky, an invisible force kept her from emerging out of the top. Angry now, Vee tried working every angle of the house, even underground. That was difficult, as she couldn’t actually see when going through objects, but it proved to be just as fruitless. She got only ten or so feet before hitting the boundary again. Unsure what to make of it, Vee decided to go back to the living room and take a moment to relax and assess the situation.

  A large black bag in the corner of the room attracted Vee’s attention. That was definitely one of the bags they had brought with them. Had it been left behind? If it was still here, there was a chance someone would come back for it!

  Vee’s excitement died down once she realized there was absolutely no reason to be excited. She was a ghost. How was she even here? Vee wasn’t exactly religious, but she had always assumed there would be an afterlife. Instead, she was all alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. And unlike Cassie who felt alone because she didn’t have a man to hold, Vee was actually very, undeniably alone.

  Vee would’ve cried, if she could’ve. Tears didn’t fall, but it didn’t stop her from sobbing as if they were. If she had cared more, she would’ve noticed the empty rum bottles shaking slightly while the rafters dropped some dust into the air. Instead she simply wailed as she thought about her parents and how much they’d miss her. How much she missed them. She bemoaned her failure to make just one good friend. She regretted wasting her time on things that didn’t matter. She wished that, just once, she would have accomplished something worth remembering. It was in the midst of all these thoughts that Vee didn’t notice another presence enter the cabin.

  - 2 -

  Soft light filtered through the windows at the Lamelle Private Detective Agency. Landon twiddled a pen as he casually sat at his desk, feet propped on top, and looked towards the city below. Lamelle wasn’t exactly a large city, but its urban area had plenty of bustle. The second floor of the cozy office building was just the right height to people-watch, and the reflective windows made it so he didn’t even have to feel conscious in doing so.

  Landon enjoyed people-watching. As much as he didn’t care to get particularly close to others, he found the activity relaxing. There was something methodical about the way people walked—and yet, each had a different stride. A lot could be gathered about the way a person walked, from their current mood to certain quirks of their personality. Days like today, being Sunday, also just happened to be his favorite. Most of the pedestrians had a certain spring to their step, since many didn’t have school or work to bog them down until the following day. It always fascinated Landon how people could so easily live in the present; the people who didn’t tended to be more apathetic or worried.

  “Mr. Clawson, I brought your morning coffee!”

  Landon’s secretary, Sylvia Carter, was a high school girl with long wavy hair and a soft voice. Today she was in a fashionable one-piece dress, leggings, and furry overcoat. The weather was getting colder, but Sylvie was dressed heavier than a regular girl her age. Sylvie had a frail constitution, but it didn’t stop her from being particularly conscientious. But, what she wore was never the first thing Landon noticed whenever she came by.

  Instead, he saw her strings.

  Landon could see something around five strings emanating from her most of the time; though, just like every other person, there were countless tiny others that appeared when he focused hard enough. Sylvie’s strings were special, which always made her a pleasure to work with. Of the strings Landon could most often see, and even on the ones he couldn’t always discern, he was always impressed at how well maintained they seemed to be. The strongest, brightest ones were tightly woven and typically quite thick, but the way they wisped about showed that she’d never impose on anyone. Her strings, like everyone’s, showed her true nature—and in Sylvie’s case, she always acted outwardly the same way she felt inwardly. That was not a quality often found in people.

  Landon sat up straight and accepted the mug. “You know you don’t have to do that,” he sai
d.

  Sylvie smiled. “I know. But I only get to be here in the mornings on Sunday, so I figure I should do a little something every now and again.”

  Landon smiled back. “Something tells me you’d do things even if I told you not to.”

  “That’s not true!” Sylvie blustered.

  Landon laughed. “Alright, alright. Have it your way. Any progress on the recent filings?”

  “I finished all the paperwork filled out for the Brown’s case Friday before leaving. It should be court-ready. I’m afraid that still leaves us a few cases behind, though...”

  “No worries,” Landon said, taking a sip from his cup, “ I still get things done faster when you’re around.”

  “You say that every time, Mr. Clawson. I can’t imagine I’m really that much help.”

  “You’re too modest, Sylvie. Have some confidence in yourself. Thanks to you, things are more organized. It’s nice to have the company, too.”

  “I could come by more often, if you’d like.”

  Sylvie flushed. Landon suspected she had a crush on him, but he had no interest in her. Even if she weren’t a minor, women were simply the least of Landon’s concerns. He had too much to do. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to handle her as a result. Landon wasn’t afraid to put on the charm when it served him, but the moment a woman began pursuing him, he wasn’t quite sure what to do—and in Sylvie’s case, it would be hard to just ghost her. After all, it was true that things had become much smoother in the time she was under his employ. In the end, he pretended like he was oblivious and hoped she would lose interest someday.

  It would have been a lot easier if he could see the strings connecting to him. Every string had two ends, and two people, it connected to. It was easy enough to judge what people thought of each other, but ever since his childhood, Landon was unable to see the strings that connected to him. He had to make assumptions based on observations, the same as any other person; and while Landon thought himself good at that, he still wished he had the added benefit of knowing for sure.