Death is a funny topic of conversation. Just like love, you know it will happen eventually but you're never quite sure when. It could be on the way to work, on public transport, or even while you're out shopping. What if our lives were string? Spun, measured and cut accordingly to someone else's judgement. That someone else being Atropos, the first Scissor Sister!

My inspiration for this piece came from a beautiful, yet malevolent artwork painted by Francisco Goya. You'll see it to the left of this body of text!

The Fates

Silk draped divinities afloat in the air amongst howling gales that moved about them.

Above the land of Man, olive trees penetrated the fading sky, and the looks of echoing skies that lie mirrored in the bank-seeping lake returned their timeless gaze.

Our ladies, back-to-back, revelled in jest while their requisite labours commence.

The first divinity gently held a distaff. A thread was attentively withdrawn, in fear of entanglement.

The second divinity inspected the thread through a lens, measuring the long length of the fibre.

The third divinity, wielding a pair of scissors, carries the thread upon the blades of her tool.

Then, there’s you. Tethered and bound at the age of eighty-two.

Atropos, why did you take him? For he still had love to give. He still had life.

Before the Daughters of Night, you who shed not tears of sadness, but joy, express the greatest of gratitude for your existence.

You finally acknowledge your circumstance, and you’re contented.

Your children, and their children will thrive upon your foundation of love, and maybe one day, their children too.

Now, Atropos. Cut his thread and let him be free. For freedom is his prize.

I will think of you, for my thread shall one day be spun all the same.

I will miss you, until we meet again.

Kade Baker

02 September 2022