Words of a Mother

I remember when I was little my mother used to tell me that there was a string tied to everyone's wrist.

She would say that the string could connect two people, those who were destined to be together. She said that no matter how much the string bends, tangles or knots, the threads would never break.

Mother would say that the Patron Daeity of Fate, and destiny; Lord Phaten would tie the threads of everyone in the world himself.

She would say that color of the string told their fate.

Those with pure white strings, who would lead good lives. Red strings would lead to success and prosperity. Pink strings would lead happy and loving lives with their soul mate.

Then there was Blue those would have this color would suffer sadness for a time but were rewarded for strong faith.

The worst of all was black, any poor fool with this color would suffer constantly, with no hope for salvation.

I know without a doubt that is my color, black. A deep, dark, pitch black that steals away all light. Nothing good has ever happened to me, and nothing will.

I can do nothing except give up all hope.