The Fates

He twisted his fate between his fingers. The string was so short, so fragile. Everything he had ever done, had ever seen, had ever experienced – all of it was contained in this tiny string.

Today, that string would be cut. The three ancient women hovered over him, one of them holding a pair of scissors, another holding the eye they shared between them.

He had come intending to face his fate bravely, to give up his life for the sake of another, his beloved. It had been an easy decision.

Yet now that he stared at the string, his string, he hesitated.

Once that string was cut, there was no going back. No second chances. The weight of it hadn’t hit him until now.

He glanced at the three witches, still hovering, and then back at the string. No. He wasn’t ready.

He turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. As he rounded the bend, he tripped.

The last thing he saw was a rock as sharp as a knife slice neatly through the string.