A/N- A very short story inspired by a Reddit Writing prompt. Enjoy!
I was born with that word on my wrist. I remembered my father telling me what it meant when I was old enough to understand.
“Everyone has a soulmate, but the only way to identify your soulmate is by the last words they will ever say to you, which are inscribed on your wrist.”
It’s the last thing they’ll ever say to us. It’s morbid. Knowing your whole life that your perfect match is out there somewhere, and you don’t have the best words on your body. You have the worst words. The last ones.
They bring no comfort before you’ve met them, and then after you have met them, what mystery is there in knowing their last words to you? The last words they speak can only mean two things. Death, or they leave you. Either way you end up with a broken heart.
My thumb traced over the raised word, faded to white.
I used to lay awake for hours imagining that scenario. Why would the love of my life tell me to run? Alien invasion? War? Giant hildabeast on the loose?
My mother said it was romantic, that the last word was one of protection. They’d stay behind so I could hopefully live, fighting whatever it was that was coming. No, I didn’t want to have signed up for this kind of magic, but it was an inevitable fact of our world.
As a little girl, I loved reading fantasy stories. The ones with magic. I loved them because it was magic that flowed, it was fluid. It changed. It was good and bad and nothing was ever set in stone. This word on my wrist, it was set in stone.
That was the only magic that existed in my world, the kind that was set in stone. My brother said I was jaded and bitter, two things I had no right to be. I hadn’t even lost my soulmate yet. He had.
I grew up hoping that I’d meet my soulmate really early on, that they’d die early, and then I could get on with my life. Then I could find someone close enough to my soulmate to love, and I wouldn’t have to worry about their last words. I wouldn’t know them, which would mean I could enjoy my time with them. I wouldn’t constantly be waiting to hear that word.
My fingers traced over my wrist again, something I’d done a million times before. The last word I’d hear from my soulmate.
My heart pounded suddenly, as I shot up in bed.
What would my last words be?