A World Without String Is Chaos 4 Chapter 4: Let's Quit Smoking, Dad

Fred woke up. It was morning. The sunrays shone through the window, and the last thing the knife told him echoed in his mind.

Consequences.

Fred felt groggy. He was a mess. His mind was a mess. His face was covered in dried tears and snot from the afternoon before. He had to clean up. He went to the bathroom and took a hot shower, like he usually did.

'I need to take the medication' he thought to himself.

Fred wasn't sure how to react to what happened to him yesterday. It was all so surreal. Well, it wasn't like he hadn't experienced the surreal before. But the knife, the visions, the scene of his parents mourning, it all was so stark, so vivid. Fred thought it was real, but he had been wrong about "reality" before. He shook it off, and went to his parent's room to have a cigarette with his dad.

His dad was sitting on a small table beside the window, gazing outside. He was already smoking a cigarette, halfway through. Fred sat down next to him, took a cigarette out of the blue and white pack, and lit up.

He inhaled. The smoke instantly hit his lungs, and he felt calmer. Fred looked out the window. It was sunny.

His dad looked over to him, and looked back outside.

Fred looked over to his dad, and looked back outside.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Fred saw a thin straight line. He turned his head, and he saw a string connected to his father and going straight up to the ceiling, and seemingly beyond.

Fred was bewildered. He had hoped that yesterday was just a nightmare, or something. Fred got up, and reached out to the top of his father's head.

His father looked surprised, but he just sat there, and continued smoking.

Fred noticed the surprised look on his father's face, but he had to make sure that the string was there or not. He touched it.

Fred's vision zoomed into the living room. His father was watching TV, but next to him, on the floor, was a tank of some sort. Fred then saw a bunch of tubes inside his father's nose. He realized it was an oxygen tank.

His father coughed. Blood.

Fred's vision zoomed once more. This time, it was a room with puke green wallpaper. He saw himself crying next to a bed, and his father lying there, weezing and coughing. He looked thin, malnourished, defeated. Fred, above the room, tried to go back to his parents' room. Will it. Hard.

"Your dad's going to die of cancer."

Fred saw the knife, again.

"Can I stop this from happening?"

"Yes. Just cut the string."

Fred found himself back in the room, standing up, with his hand waving above his father's head.

"What are you doing", his father said.

Fred blushed, but he was still shook from what he saw. "Nothing. I thought I saw a bug."

Fred stared at the top of his father's head. There was the string. He waved his hand in a slicing motion, and he felt the string snap.

Fred felt better. At least, his dad won't die of cancer.

Fred sat back down, and put out his cigarette. Not before one last puff.

"Hey dad. Let's quit smoking."