The Matchmaker who can see the red string of fate

I work as a matchmaker.

Ever since I was a child, I can see strings, strings that connect us to other people. Strings can take a variety of colors and can change at any time, depending on your feelings towards other people.

When you like a person and they become your friends, the string that connects you both is white. When you start to feel dislike, irritated, annoyed, betrayed, jealous, envy, lust, hurt or other negative emotions, the color starts to change. From white, it eventually converts its color to black. In other words, strings change their colors because what you feel for others changes.

You might be asking, red strings are for the one true love, right?

The right term for it is 'fated partner' or 'predestined partner' but can never be called 'one true love'. People's hearts can change you know. Red can turn into black. Just like how a couple who loves each other, but after a few years, can loathe each other.

But the red string of fate, the one that connects in your pinky, is not the only red string we have. There can be 3 or more connected in your heart to other people. I call them 'fleeting love'. A person you fell in love but never ended up with.

This ability has been passed on to my family for generations. Most of my female ancestors don't have a fated partner, so they end up growing old alone. But all of them have someone they love. And they always die. Always. I remember my Aunt, who possesses the same ability as me said.

" You'd rather wish you didn't fall in love with someone, Alice. It will only kill you... To watch that person die in front of you... Believe me I know. "

I believe her. I fell in love. And he died. That's why I swear I will never love someone again. An ability we have. A great responsibility we bear. And a curse to live with. I never asked for this.

My name is Alice Jade Martinez. I'm 18. And this is my story.

________________________________________________

I work as a detective.

I assist the police in putting criminals behind bars. I've handled cases that range from murders, robberies, bombings, serial killings, and others. People call me great for having these talents. But in fact, I don't care.

I don't care about murders. I don't care if criminals were apprehended or not. I don't care if my stepfather used my talent for his own benefit. Nor I care for my stepbrother taking credits for my work. None of these matters to me.

All beings stick with each other for survival. As much as I hate it, if I want power, I must conform to the ways of this foolish, idiotic, world.

I can't understand why women put artificial substance called makeup on their face just to look appealing. Nor I understand men drowning themselves to smoke, alcohol, drugs, and a bunch of crappy online games just to escape reality.

Really, this world is full of fools who'll do anything to get other people's attention, to escape reality, to possess everything, and to give out their hearts to those who will surely break it.

No matter how much they sacrifice to obtain what they want, in the end, we all die not bringing a single penny.

It's as stupid as chasing the wind.

But to not feel emotions. Not knowing what it's like to 'want something' nor possessing any desire to 'do something'. To not feel anything, either joy, pain, sadness, anger, fear, greed, and lust. To think that I lack the basic emotions that define and separate us from other species. Maybe I'm not 'human' after all.

I just need something to fill the deep, black hole in my heart. The bottomless pit inside me is so hollow it's sucking me dry.

For years, nothing can satisfy the emptiness I feel. Does such a thing exist? If so, how do I find it? Will it make me feel a little bit 'human' like the others? If I continue doing this type of work, will it lead me to that 'something' someday?

My name is Keith Sky Sinclair. I'm 17. And this is my story.

___________________________________________

Where does a story truly begin?

Is it when you meet your fateful encounter? Or when the love you sought for years, finally became mutual? Or that moment when the past broke your heart and the future came along to mend it? Or when you're special someone asks your hand in marriage?

Or maybe it can start at...

When you realize, the person you love the most already belongs to someone else? Or when the love you thought will last forever, is just an illusion you put up because of your expectations. Or when that pretentious miracle of someone, coming along your way, promising to fix your heart with his love, only to tear it apart, leaving you all alone, and much broken than before. Or worse, the person that took your heart and became your everything, doesn't belong in this world anymore. And no matter what you do, and where you go, his presence is everywhere. Torturing you with his memories, with your undying love, and the state of loss he left.

You may think these circumstances are the climax or the end of your life. But it's just the beginning. Of a new chapter, of a new journey. With each episode controlled by an unknown invisible force called 'fate'.

And this story is one of those circumstances led by fate. Two people, connected by a bond called 'red string of fate' where one end lost its destination and was bent out of shape again and again. Another end became all twisted and stuck, unable to entangle. But no matter how much this 'bond' is stretched, tested, contorted, and pulled beyond limits, it never breaks. Even in death.

This story is about a matchmaker who can't fall in love and a detective who can't feel anything.

I flipped through the pages. The pencil in my hand snapped as my grip on it tighten. I did not bother getting myself another one. I can still draw using what's left of this five inch pencil. This flimsy little thing... is already enough. Just like his lingering image in my brain...is enough to draw his sketch.

I sat, sprawled across the lush green bermuda grass. For three hours I worked on his portrait. And at last, his face took the exact replica of how he looks like. My fingers lingered at his bright playful eyes. As if touching could bring me the warmth he used to gave me.

I held my sketch book over the sun, smiling approvingly at my masterpiece. Even in drawings, he's still beautiful. The look in his eyes radiates warmth and full of life. Just the right match for his cheery dimpled smile. I held it close against my chest, feeling the soft breeze of my surrounding. as if it's his gentle spirit embracing me deeply.

A snap of branch nearby came into my ears. Someone's footsteps, and it's heading in my way.

First instinct was to be afraid. But I'm not. At least not in the cemetery. I know I can keep bad guys at bay with the rumored ghost sightings the groundkeeper spread across town.

I heard some took courage and ventured inside without permission. Taking this into account, the groundkeeper dressed me in white sheet of waterproof cloak and put a black long wig in my head.

So on the night they crept in, their heart almost burst out of their throats seeing me kneeling. Plus the gruesome horror props the groundkeeper set up in every corner, they left with their sanity barely hanging on.

I couldn't care less. I did not let all these people distract me. I'm too engrossed in the smiling face I see in front of me right now I just need to make a duplicate in the paper. Capture everything, not missing the tiniest detail.

Because it was only in the sheets of blank paper, I could keep the him whose no longer with me...to stay at my side always.

I leaned my body forward it almost touched the ground. I started forming his gorgeous cupid bow lips.

Everyday now I'm visited with evocative dreams of him. I daydream of his smile in front of me, beside me, behind me. Every corner, every nook, in every crowd, in every side of our apartment... I see his face in all of them.

So vivid, so realistic, I can hear his voice calling my name in my head. I'm torn apart by my two worlds. The reality where there's nothing of him except the memories and traces he left behind, and the illusion I put up to reject that harsh reality.

And I'm more inclined to the latter.

I breath the danky upturned smell of grass as I inclined my pencil to shade the flawless shape of the pout of his bottom lip.

Another slight touch in his messy unkempt hair and it's done. I heard the cat meowed beside me.

It's voice a thousand distance away. Like an echo. Deep down I realized, it was the two of us alone now. Me and the cat Kenneth and I found in the side street one snowy evening.

Him, is no longer a part of newly bonded family. And without him...I don't know how am I gonna survive this useless pathetic life of mine.

Alice, what are ya doin'? Hm? - Kenneth.

Drawing. - Me.

Ya love that? Drawing? - Kenneth.

Yeah. I love it. - Me.

Why? - Kenneth.

To capture beautiful scenes in a whole blank sheet of paper. - Me.

What about me? Will you trap me in that white paper of yours? - Kenneth.

I will. - Alice.

Soo meaan! Alice I'm not a scenery you draw okay? I'm one hell of a super hot cop! Not some boring stony craft statue or a painting! - Kenneth.

Water droplets drip at the side on my drawing of his face. Drops resembling tears. I brush my cheeks, felt the damp skin and exhaled.

Statues or paintings can never be compared to you Kenneth. You're as beautiful as nature itself. You are my world.

You always were.

You told me through the good and bad and all in between, you will always stay beside me...So why are you letting the cold hard ground embrace you beneath?

I desperately need you here with me right now. I've been a good girl. I've been doing my best not to blow up our kitchen again. I've been doing my best to battle my nightmares at night. I've been trying to be strong. Like how you always told me to....

I've done everything you ask... So won't you come back to me now?

.

.

.

Please...

I won't ask for anything else... If you come back and hold me once again.

Three familiar footsteps approached me from behind. Still, it wasn't enough to shatter me out of my own makeshift world.

"Kid, I see you haven't moved from your usual spot huh." The old groundkeeper greeted. As he always did every morning. His voice is barely audible. Like there's a big glass wall separating me from him, contorting his voice like a distant whisper.

"Will she always kneel in front of this grave? Doesn't she have parents? " Another man asked. This one I don't recognize.

"Lad, the kid's orphan. From what I heard, she lost her memory and this cop who died here took her in. Now that he's gone...she's left alone again."

The sound of plastic unwrapping food filtered the quiet graveyard. The groundkeeper is kneeling beside me with two other men I don't recognize. Could be visitors or new assistants, I don't know.

And I don't care much to find out.

"That's so tragic. How many hours has she been kneeling here?" Another guy asked. This one has square shabby glasses with sleek black hair.

"Three months I think? Or maybe four?"

"What?!" Both new two faces stood up abruptly.

"For crying out loud, what's wrong with ya lads? That's nothing to be surprised about." The groundkeeper is setting up the usual brown basket and starts to break down the food he packs as my breakfast into bite sizes.

"Of course there is! Wait, I'm gonna call the cop or the local orphanage to take the poor girl-"

Before glasses guy can finish what he has to say, groundkeeper snatch his phone from his hand and turn it off.

"Believe me, it's useless. I called the local orphanage two days after I see her in the same spot, they came and tried to take her but never succeeds. Next is the police, same result, can't take her away either. And you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because she's vicious as a wild tiger. She bites people off until they let her go. Believe me, not even the toughest guy in town succeeded in separating her from this grave."

"Then what about talking? You tried talking her out of it?"

"I did everyday. But it's like talking to a statue. You'll only feel stupid yourself. Best advice, leave her alone. Whether she dies or move on is up to her. But as long as she stays within my territory, it's my job to keep her feed at least. Now, come on, I'll show you how to handle her well."

The ground keeper put the basket beside my closed book. I tried not to move a muscle when I have company. So far, I found myself excellent at it.

"Hey, little girl. How are you today? I bet your hungry now don't ya? I have some pancakes with honey, toasts with jam, cookies and other excellent treats. Which one do you like?"

I blink once, after each second comes another one. A total of three.

"I see, you want cookies. Do you want me to feed you with a spoon or would you rather have your cat do it?"

I blink twice.

"Okay, we'll wait for him here." Kind old groundkeeper bowed his head lower and push his two companions three paces backward.

"Sir Hamon can you please tell us what's goin' on?"

Hamon? Ah, yes, that's groundkeeper's surname.

"Shh shh, be quiet. Very crucial moment. Don't move so suddenly or act in any kind of threatening. I told you she's vicious right? Wait till you see the cat."

ALICE

It was unusually hot. My skin perspired in sweat. I want to look up above, see if there's any clouds that could cover the scorching sun. But I can't. Not right now. Strangers other than the groundkeeper is here.

I don't like strangers. Especially if they're surrounded with black patched strings. Either they hate their life and had too much pity for themselves or they're congested by uncontainable rage they can't see anyone as pleasant or likeable.

The way they throw doubtful stares at me like the rest of the people who came by tell me it's the latter.

I couldn't care any less. Except for the groundkeeper who took care of me, all these strangers will come and go and move on with their lives. Forgetting any detail they thought up about me.

At the corner of the tomb made of limestone, the white cat emerge and approach the basket warily.

He smelled it. Ate one and handed me a piece. I started eating it too. Munching, savoring, the overall lukewarm and flavor of cookies is in the tip of my tongue.

It's yummy. Unlike Kenneth's cookies whose always burnt and flaky and too hard to digest.

After I swallowed the last piece, the groundkeeper handed me a bottle of water. I slowly drank its content. He gave one for the cat too.

I'm sure the groundkeeper is saying something to his two companions. But my ears forced their voice shut. Idle talks don't mean anything. So there's no point in listening.

I closed my eyes. Trying to reach deeper into my memories. Unlocking my most treasured box of precious images.

There, I found him. Sitting on his usual black couch by the window. His acoustic red guitar in his lap. He's strumming and humming. His voice pulsates around the room of our apartment, like the enthusiastic angelic voice of a singer in a thousand silent crowd.

He turned and smiled. The sunlight basked him in golden hue. Highlighting his inky black messy hair, adding more vibrance to his electric blue eyes, the colors explode around him in bright yellow and orange fireworks.

He looks like an angel. My one and only angel.

The expression on his face was the same as the pictures of him in my drawings. The smile continued to linger on his lips. Was he happy? Amused? By what? Of me? I longed to know but could not allow myself to ask.

The moment he started to transform the beat into words, I struck my five inch pencil to the next page.

(Found by Citizen Soldier)

♪ Have you ever felt lost ♪

♪ Like you don't matter at all ♪

♪ Like you were born just to be scared ♪

♪ All this fear deep inside ♪

♪ Does it burn to the surface leaving you gasping for air ♪

His eyes found mine and he melt me once again with his brilliant smile.

♪ Now you're walking alone ♪

♪ It's all that you've ever known ♪

♪ So sick of being the one betrayed ♪

♪ If you just take one more chance if you just open your eyes you'll find the purpose in your pain ♪

♪ Oh I know ♪

♪ There is purpose in your pain ♪

I traced his sitting figure on the couch with the guitar. Going forward into the intricate shape of his face, his shoulders, his fingers...

♪Oh I know ♪

♪ There is purpose in your pain ♪

♪ Do you feel already dead ♪

♪ Like you have no reasons left standing on the edge ♪

♪ And finally looking down ♪

♪ Like a candle in the night ♪

♪ Fighting just to stay alive ♪

♪ I know you still can't see ♪

♪ But hold onto me ♪

♪ You will be found ♪

I momentarily stop. He once told me he loved this song from his favorite band. He said they can put feelings that can't be shared, expressed nor showed to others into words.

Heartfelt song with bullet striking emotions. At first, I don't get what he's saying. But now... the more I played it in my head, the more I understand why he likes them. Why he played them to me everyday.

♪ You will be found ♪

♪ You will be saved ♪

♪ Just hear me now ♪

♪ I felt the same ♪

♪ You will be broken ♪

♪ But never to pieces ♪

♪ Keep holding on ♪

♪ There's always a reason ♪

He wants the message of this song delivered straight to the me who desperately need it.

.

.

.

And he's right. I really need it. The picture of one person who this song referred to as "Will find me" in my agony, in my pain, in my bitterness, in my fears... is him.

But now that he's gone... who will fill this deep empty void he left in my soul? I don't have anyone before him...nor after him.

So who will save me from my hell now?

***

Hours passed and I still did not move from my current position. The cat found its way in my side. Curling against the white cloak the groundkeeper gave me.

I want to touch. I want to share warmth. Comfort. Contentment. It doesn't matter who or where, I just need something to pour out this pent up feelings.

For months without his presence has been so hard, I feel like I'm slipping into insanity. I sometimes find myself clawing at my skin. Trying to pierce my heart, cut my body open, tear my wrist apart - all for alleviating the torturous feelings of missing him.

.

.

.

[Do you want to see him again?]

A voice in my head asked. Husky, ethereal and at the same time smooth it somehow came out as familiar to me, which is strange since I've never heard this voice before.

[There is a way. A possible phenomena that, when arranged by the god of death, will reunite your two souls together]

I cracked my tight sealed lips open. Which, for the past four months, had never uttered a single word.

"Soul? Not bring him back?" I croaked. Evidently surprised I still know how to formulate words in my tongue.

[Yes, once a human has crossed the threshold, their soul can never go back. But in the haven of afterlife, there is a way. With the permission of the ruler of death, he can arrange a setup where you and your loved one can live together. Forever.]

My lips attempted to curve upwards but my cheeks already turn to ice, it's almost impossible to put on a smile.

"I've lived a life of abuse and human tool subjected to experiments. So too good to be true talks won't work on me."

[I know. Let me show you something to make you believe me. But before that, I will reveal myself to you first.]

The pages in the book, where I recently drawn Kenneth's singing figure suddenly flipped without me touching it. Back to the front cover.

Kenneth gave me this book as a present. For drawing purposes, I know it's a sketchpad with white blank papers. Just ordinary...

Yet now, I'm witnessing with my own two eyes how the plain abstract cover erased its colors, transforming into something red with cursive design at the center.

Written in thick italic letters, THE BOOK OF STRINGS wrote itself as if there's an invisible hand with golden ink writing them.

If I'm in my right state of mind, I would have screamed, tuck my tails, and bolt to ask for help. But I did nothing of those...

There's something so captivating and mesmerizing about the strange phenomena unfolding in front of me, I can't dare to take my eyes off it.

After the great transformation, strong wind started to form at the center. At first, it took shape of a small tornado, then it grows and shot up straight I've toppled away from my original position.

I cried out in pain. My feet that hadn't moved for the past four months make me incapable to walk. Just a slight press of a thumb sends unbearable pain directly to my brain.