The meanings that various people attach to their tattoos and other body art can vary greatly. Certain places celebrate things that other places wouldn’t tolerate.
For instance, a sigil or symbol that has significant meaning in one location may appear to be a collection of haphazard squiggles in another.
It’s probably reasonable to assume that for as long as humans have existed, people have used their appearance to express themselves and transmit messages.
You most likely don’t live on an isolated island because tattoos are a common sight for most individuals. While certain designs, like those that tell stories or adhere to traditions, may be ridiculous and ones they wish they hadn’t purchased when they were younger, others may have profound, significant meanings.
I find it really interesting when I see the same tattoo on multiple people, even though you might not agree. To put it another way, I’m instantly curious about the meaning behind the tattoo and the reason the owner wants to live a lifetime with it on their body.
Over the years, I’ve heard numerous stories about the “red string of fate” from people, but I’ve never taken the time to investigate them.
The little red tattoo may be recognizable to a few of our readers, but most people who have seen it previously are probably unaware of its meaning.
I had noticed the same thing on a couple other people. Still, more than enough to detect a pattern. Though I wasn’t sure what this symbol meant, I knew it meant something.
I looked up more information regarding the aforementioned red string tattoo online. It is referred to as the “red string of fate” in Asian nations.The tattoo resembles a straightforward bow with tails, like to a knotted shoelace. It typically appears on the thumb of men and the pinky finger of women.
There’s more to this little tattoo than meets the eye. It is related to hope and love. The story is allegedly adapted on a Chinese folktale about a matchmaker who has the ability to predict the destiny of every individual.
The notion that someone is supposed to be your partner is, of course, not exclusive to romantic partnerships. In a similar vein, virtually every culture holds the belief that you are connected to someone via an invisible relationship.
The crimson thread of fate in this instance indicates that two individuals are destined to be together regardless of their current circumstances or location. For some, that is a comforting and consoling concept. However, other people probably want to have total control over their own life.
Which camp are you in? Has anyone ever seen a person who has a tattoo of the red string of fate?
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My Brother Covertly Took the $20K My Grandmother Left for Me Before Her Death — Karma Intervened Before I Could Confront Him
The moment I saw my brother cruising around in a shiny red convertible, I knew something was off. Little did I know, that car held the key to a betrayal I never saw coming — and a plan Gran had set in motion long before she was gone.
My name is Juniper. I’m 26 now, and I’ve been living out of state for four years. Honestly, it was the best decision I ever made: to get away from my family and from all the hurt that came with it.
It wasn’t like I ever felt a part of them. My parents had always favored my older brother, Maverick. You could say he was the golden child, but that doesn’t even cover it. Growing up, I was just… there. The “spare,” as Gran used to joke, though there was always a tenderness in her voice when she said it.
That’s part of why I left. Well, that, and Noel — my boyfriend. He convinced me it was time to live for myself, to create something outside the shadows of my family.
We packed up our little car, and I moved with him to the city, away from my parents, Maverick, and all the memories.
“Noel, I swear, I just couldn’t stay there anymore,” I had told him over dinner once. I still remember the way he’d smiled at me from across the table, his hand reaching out to grab mine.
“You don’t need to explain it to me again, June. You did the right thing,” he had reassured me, squeezing my hand. “You deserve more than being the second choice.”
Even after four years away, I barely spoke to my family. Calls came less frequently, texts became a rare formality. My parents? They didn’t seem to mind, honestly. It was like I had just faded out of their lives. The only one who stayed in touch was Gran.
She was the one person in my family who made me feel like I mattered. When I was younger, she’d sneak me chocolate bars when my mom wasn’t looking, or call me on the phone late at night just to hear how my day went.
Gran didn’t care if it was boring or if I felt like my life was a mess. She just listened.
And then, one day, I found out she died. Accidentally. No call, no message, nothing. Can you believe that? I was scrolling through Facebook, of all places, and saw a post from an old family friend. Gran’s picture. A date and a “Rest in Peace” note.
I couldn’t breathe. I stared at my phone, waiting for things to make sense, but they didn’t. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest.
I dropped my phone on the table, stood up, and muttered, “Gran’s gone.”
Noel looked up from the couch. “What? What do you mean she’s gone?”
“She died. No one even told me.” I could feel the burn of tears, but it was more than sadness; it was anger and perhaps betrayal. “How could they not tell me?”
Noel was up in a second, pulling me into a hug, but it didn’t make any sense. Why hadn’t my parents called me? Even Maverick. Nothing.
I booked a flight back home that same night.
I didn’t care what it took — I had to visit Gran’s grave. I had to say goodbye, at least on my own terms. The next morning, I found myself walking through my hometown, the place I hadn’t seen in years, the place I had fought so hard to escape. Everything was as I remembered, except one thing.
I blinked, stunned. “The… what?”
As I stood at the corner of the street near the cemetery, I spotted something that made my blood run cold. My brother, Maverick, cruising by in a shiny red convertible.
Maverick? The one who still worked as a cashier, who could barely make ends meet? He was driving a red convertible that looked like it cost more than his entire life savings.
My stomach churned. Something wasn’t right.
Later that day, I found myself standing by Gran’s grave, the soft rustle of the trees the only sound around. The earth was still fresh, and I couldn’t shake the knot in my stomach. Gran was really gone. I hadn’t been able to say goodbye properly: no chance to tell her how much she meant to me.
The pain of finding out about her death through a Facebook post still stung like an open wound.
As I knelt beside the grave, I heard footsteps approaching. I looked up to see Mr. Anderson, Gran’s best friend. He was a kind, older man, always hovering around Gran, helping her with anything she needed. His face was somber as he approached.
“Juniper, I’m so sorry,” he said softly, standing beside me. “Your Gran… she was a one-of-a-kind lady.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “She really was. I just wish I had more time with her.”
He nodded, his eyes distant. Then, after a moment of silence, he turned to me and asked, “Did you get the $20,000 she left you?”
I blinked, stunned. “The… what?”
Mr. Anderson’s brow furrowed. “Your Gran. She mentioned in her will that she set aside $20,000 for you. I just assumed you knew.”
My heart dropped. Suddenly, the red convertible Maverick was driving made all the sense in the world. The anger that had been simmering inside me boiled over. “No,” I muttered, standing up, fists clenched at my sides. “I didn’t know.”
Mr. Anderson’s face paled. “Oh, Juniper, I’m so sorry.”
But I wasn’t listening anymore. I had to get to Maverick’s trailer. Now.
I stormed back to my car, my mind racing. Maverick, who could never hold down a steady job, was suddenly driving around in a flashy car, and I hadn’t thought twice about it? Of course, it was my money. The money Gran left me — the one person in my family who actually cared about me — and he stole it without a second thought.
When I pulled up to Maverick’s trailer, I was ready for a full-blown confrontation. But what I saw stopped me in my tracks. There, crumpled in the driveway, was the red convertible, completely wrecked. The front bumper was smashed, the windshield shattered, and the tires looked flat, like the car had been in a serious accident.
And there, standing in the doorway of his beat-up trailer, was Maverick. He was leaning on crutches, a cast covering his leg, and his face was bruised, a mess of cuts and scrapes.
Karma had already caught up with him.
I walked up to him, my anger momentarily replaced by shock. “Maverick, what the hell happened?”
He shifted uncomfortably on his crutches, his eyes darting away from mine. “It’s… it’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” I gestured at the totaled car. “That doesn’t look like nothing. What did you do? And why did you take Gran’s money, Maverick?”
He winced, knowing he couldn’t avoid it any longer. “I didn’t mean for it to go like this, Juniper. I… I just thought I’d borrow it. I was gonna pay you back. But then I saw that car, and…”
“Borrow it?” I was incredulous. “You don’t just ‘borrow’ twenty thousand dollars that wasn’t left to you. Gran left that money for me, and you took it like it was nothing. And now look at you. This is karma, Maverick. This is what you deserve.”
Maverick opened his mouth to protest, but I wasn’t finished. “You’ve always taken everything. My parents’ attention, their affection: everything was always about you. But this? This was different. This was from Gran, the one person who actually gave a damn about me, and you stole it.”
Maverick hung his head. “I messed up, okay? I thought—”
“You thought what?” I snapped. “That I wouldn’t find out? That I didn’t deserve what Gran left me?”
He didn’t have an answer. We stood there in silence, the weight of everything hanging in the air. Then, just as I was about to turn and leave, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Mr. Clearwater, Gran’s lawyer.
“Mr. Clearwater?” I answered, keeping my eyes on Maverick.
“Juniper, I’ve been going over your grandmother’s will,” Mr. Clearwater said. His voice was calm and steady, as though he knew I needed some reassurance. “There’s something you should know. Your grandmother predicted this might happen.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.
“She knew Maverick might try to take the money, so she had a plan in place. The $20,000 was only a part of her estate. The rest of it — her house, her savings, her investments — it’s all yours, Juniper. She left everything to you.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Everything?”
“Yes, everything,” Mr. Clearwater confirmed. “Your grandmother was very clear. She wanted to ensure you were taken care of, so you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone.”
Tears pricked at my eyes, but they weren’t just from sadness. Gran had known. She saw this coming, every bit of it, and she had protected me in the way only she could. Even in death, she was still looking out for me: still showing me that I mattered.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I looked at Maverick. “I hope that convertible was worth it, Maverick. I hope you enjoyed the ride.”
“Juniper, I—” he started, his voice shaky.
I held up my hand, cutting him off. “Don’t. I’m done with excuses, Maverick. Just save it.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, broken in more ways than one. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like the forgotten sibling. Gran had made sure of that.
If this story touched your heart, take a look at another exciting read: When my grandmother asked us to come to her place to celebrate her birthday, I didn’t expect my family to do what they did! Grandma was hurt by their actions, and I wasn’t willing to let my family go unpunished. So I came up with a plan that put them in their place!
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