Getting Attached

• Madelyn Kidd, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2016

March 7, 2016
When people die, the ones who are most emotional are the people that knew them well.
That's why I have to be careful. I can't get emotionally attached. To anyone because when I do, and they're ripped away, it hurts... Physically. I'm called a Stringer. When I find something out about someone, a thread pushes from my skin and attaches it to that person. They don't feel or see a thing. I'm the one that sees and feels it. When those strings are cut or pulled apart, it hurts. It's like all of your emotions, thoughts and physical senses are combined in a moment and the pain that comes from snapping those strings is excruciating, depending on the type.
The smallest type attaches itself to someone who introduces themselves with simple facts like their name or their age. These are a thin, white strand, about as thick as a horse hair. Every string has its own glow and this one looks like it has shards of moonlight attached to it.
The second kind attaches for things like family details, addresses, phone numbers etc. they're a lemon yellow with a brassy glow, like trumpets with flecks of sunlight sticking to them and about as thick as embroidery thread.
The third kind are about as thick as the ropes used to hold curtains open in an old theatre. They're a brass colour and their glow is like the ochre of roadwork signs... I've become so much part of this world. These are for things like common hobbies or friendships, though not as strong as the fourth kind...
The fourth kind... As big as the ropes on large sea vessels- ships. They're a deep gold, with a glow like sunlight itself. These are for intimate relationships like parents, siblings... Or lovers. They hurt the most when they're snapped or cut because they take longer to separate from the person. No human can understand.
I've said too much... The last thing I need is a string attaching itself to you. Yes you. I know you're reading these words and thinking, '...It's just a book written by some author.' But no. Not just some author, not just some book. Did I mention that I'm not human? Sorry, forgot I guess...
I may be able to explain everything to you, if we ever meet, which unfortunately I can't guarantee. I am a danger to anyone who knows me... I cannot let you get attached to me personally in any way. I can cut white strings without much trouble... I'm used to it, I can cope with the pain (it's like a pin-prick) but I can't let any strands bigger than that attach themselves to you, otherwise I've already put you in more danger than you deserve.
You'll just have to trust that this person (that you've never seen or heard) can guide you through a journey that could put your life at risk. Can I trust you? I hope so.