TITLE: Threads AUTHOR: Myriss EMAIL ADDRESS: My email has changed. It's now myriss@mail.com DISTRIBUTION: Ephemeral: Ok. I will forward to Gossamer myself. Others may archive as long as they keep my header and email attached. Please let me know, though :) Any revisions of this story can be found at my site. http://www.envy.nu/myriss/index.html RATINGS WARNING: PG CLASSIFICATION: V, (Heck, I don't know!) KEYWORDS: 3POV, MSR(implied) What? What do you mean no smut! SPOILERS: Nothing really. SUMMARY: Threads of life. THE DISCLAIMER: Any character you recognized from the t.v. series belongs to 1013 and Fox (except for Mulder and Scully who belongs to each other). I am just borrowing them. Selene sort of belongs to me...and to the collective consciousness in a roundabout way. *AUTHOR NOTES - at the end. ******* Threads by Myriss (myriss@mail.com) ***** Mother tsked. "There he goes again," she sighed. "Causing havoc in the weave--Come Selene, come cut the thread." I stepped forward to look down at the cloth on the loom. I can see the thread--spun unevenly in black and red--had bunched up into tangles. It was a mess...causing a ugly blemish on the woven cloth. "Cut it, Selene," Mother said, pointing to it. I stared at it. I can see a sapphire blue thread shot with touches of red creeping by it, much of it spun smooth and silky... "Selene," Mother said. I poked it with my finger. "It doesn't need to be cut," I insisted stoutly, picking at the tangle with my fingers. "I can untangle it." Clever mind makes clever hands. I picked the tangle smooth. "See, Mother, " I said. "It's untangled." Mother sighed. "Selene, you must stop doing that--" "I'm not doing anything," I said defensively. "You know what you are doing, " Mother said. "I know it's hard for you, but you must not untangle. You must cut when there's need." "There wasn't need," I argued. "The weave was smooth. I didn't have to cut the thread--" "Selene--" Mother said. I shut my eyes tight. "The blue thread is too entwined. Cut the black and red one and the blue thread will fray and grow weak and need to be cut, too," I tried to explain. "I know, Selene," Mother explained. "I know how it feels to cut--but we must not--" "Why can't I spin like Grandmother? Why I can't weave like you?" "You will," Mother said soothingly. "When you become a Mother, you weave. When you become a Crone, you spin." "I don't want to cut!" I burst out. "I hate to cut! Why do I have to be the one who cut the thread?" "Selene," it was Grandmother's gentle voice. "You cut because you are the youngest. You are the strongest." "I am tired of cutting, Grandmother. I am tired of being the who ends the thread." "You cut so you will understand the beauty of spinning the thread." Tears welled up in my eyes. They did not understand. I knew they once had been in my place. Grandmother, Mother, and Daughter. But they did not understand. Years has separated them from me. They no longer could see out of my eyes. "I hate it! I hate these things!" I threw my golden shears to the floor and ran from the room. I will cut no more. No more. ***** I ran and ran as fast I could--away from those golden shears and the weaving room. I ran until my breath came out in painful grasps and I had to stop. I sank down at the roots of an oak tree and sobbed. Let the thread tangle. I will not be there to cut. There was a grunt of a surprise as a foot almost trod over me. It stumbled back as I sat up in surprise. It was the red and black thread. "Hey, sorry about that? Are you okay?" he asked me. When I didn't answer, he stooped down next to me. I sat up and bit the back of my hand. I can taste the earth. His voice was gentle--like soft velvety brown threads. "Are you lost?" he asked me. I shook my head. If I wanted to, I could find one of the old paths and make my way home. But I was never going to go home. I did not want to cut. "What's your name?" he asked. "Selene," I stammered. He looked at me. I could tell that I reminded him of the curly brown thread that once laid so close to his--the one that had been torn away from him. It had become frayed and worn to the point that it had just disappeared. Until then, his thread had been a bright, glossy green with a touch of gold. It had darkened a muddy black and became coarse and uneven--so thin in sections that I had been afraid that the thread would just snapped. The blue sapphire thread appeared a long time after. At first, it wove close to the dark thread, not quite touching it. Later, it became entwined, leading its smooth strength to it. That's when the red began to appear in his thread. Ever once a while, his thread would shot out in the weave, leaving the sapphire blue thread behind. It would became tangled and gnarled and that's when Mother would tell me to cut and I would instead pick out the tangles. But no matter how far his thread would go, it would returned to entwined with the blue. "Mulder? Where are you?" I heard a voice called. "Have you found anything?" He turned his head and called over his shoulder, "Here I am, Scully! Over here!" I saw the sapphire thread walking toward me. Her eyes were the same color as her thread. They were curious. "Who's this, Mulder?" He smiled down at her and touched me on the shoulder. "This is Selene. She says she's not lost, though. Selene, this is Scully, my partner." She knelt beside me. Her eyes were warm with concern. She wanted to touch me. I also reminded her of a thread--but it was bright blue thread but so fuzzy and weak that it had snapped abruptly. "Why are you here?" she asked me. I could not lie. "I ran away." ***** I can hear them talking. Their voices were quiet but I could still hear. "What do you mean, Mulder?" "I mean, no one is dying. No one." His voice lowered. "Not for the last week or so. Scully--" he leaned close to hear. "It's like Death has decided to take a holiday." A week? It's just been a week? I closed my eyes and I could see threads spinning....breaking.... I will never go back. ***** They tried to get me to tell where Iived. I didn't tell them of course. Not that they could take me there even if they knew how. The thread Scully checked me over. She was a healer--a doctor. Of course I was not sick and the scratches and scrapes caused by me running were already gone. They talked about taking me to the police, but they were reluctant. I suppose they were wondering about me. Perhaps they knew me in a way. It was my fingers that plucked at their threads when they tangled. My fingers which did not cut when they could have. Nothing could hold me unless I wanted to stay. ***** At first, people proclaimed miracles. Those who should have died lived. But as the days past...when they realized what was happening...they began to mutter.... They could feel it...the unbalance...the shift...The scale hung heavy to one side... They were looking for my parents, the thread Mulder said. They brought in threads who they said were friends. I recognized them from the loom. The wiry, springy bright yellow thread with flecks of black, the thick, woolly gray one with sprinkles of browns and blacks, and the slender dark blue one, almost polish smooth which wove close to the other two threads but always leaned toward a white thread spotted with splashes of red and black. How it leaned toward that thread--sometimes so far--that the dark blue thread threaten to snap away from the other two. They were having a hard time trying to find my parents... If they have asked, I would have told them I have no father...and my Mother....they will not find my Mother unless she wills it. ***** It was the wrongness which made my heart began to pound. When death left the world, you would think they celebrate life. Instead...life became cheap....I can threads tanglings....frayed to the breaking point but not yet breaking. I was not there to cut...to let them go...to escape the misery and the pain that some found themselves in. I began to understand what Mother and Grandmother was trying to teach me...the importance of the cutting... but I did not want to admit that I wrong... I can feel the world shifting....the world toppling.... I knew then that I must go home. ****** I could hear Mother weaving. The shuttle fly across the warp with a crack. The thump of the beater being brought forward. Over and over again. I was home. Mother looked at me and smiled. I wanted to weep. I was wrong. Mother remembered. She remembered what it felt to cut. "Where's Grandmother?" I asked her. "She sleeps," Mother simply said. Grandmother sleeps. And when she wake, she would become the Daughter, I would become the Mother, and Mother would become the Crone. I sighed and traced the threads on the looms. The red and black thread had mellowed into a soft golden brown, touched with gentle greens and autumns reds. Sapphire had melted into a turquoise blue, shot with silver and gold. Together the two threads had so entwined that they had become one. I had told them farewell--that I must go home. And had followed the old path home... And that's when I saw another thread--one that had not been there before--a clear sea blue with a touch of sea foam silver that shimmered with the color of sunlight. I reached out and stroke the threads lovingly. It was a thread that would bind them tight and strong... Lessons taught were not lessons learned if the pupil did not wish to learn them. If you cut an apple across from side to side, you will see a star pattern in the seeds. Plant a seed, it will become life. Eat too many seeds, you may sicken and die. That was the pattern of life, death, and rebirth. I had not truly understand what Grandmother had tried to tell me, but now I do. You cannot have birth without death. You cannot have death without life. And soon...the cycle will merge and we will shift. Mother will spin. I will weave. And Grandmother will cut... Fini *AUTHOR'S NOTE*- Did that make sense to anyone? Just some thoughts that have been going on for a long, long time. Drew some of it from Greek lore and other places, but did not want to be confined only to Greek mythology. Constructive feedback is always welcome. Myriss myriss@mail.com The X-Cafe: Fanfic and Recommendation by Myriss http://www.envy.nu/myriss