What if your life... could be represented as a single thread of string? This thread, branching off into many different directions as you meander throughout the world, while you pursue self-discovery, pleasure, and purpose, represents every choice you make. Every direction you go in, morally and literally, the thread travels, shaping the form of your life. Sometimes others impact our lives greatly, and this is shown by the other person's thread intersecting directly with yours.
Love, commitment, and loss, all represented by this thread of string, intersecting with others and forming many detailed connections. When you're old and wrinkled, it takes the form of an intricate design unique to each life it represents. This design is not-readily-apparent until you're quite old - or nearing the end of your rope, so to speak. However, even with this amount of connections, this thread does not tangle. It weaves purposefully upon a set path; all your choices are already known. This is the natural order.
When you tell a lie... or avoid the truth by any means... the thread ties a knot upon itself. This means you have somehow averted the path you were meant to be on, and the thread gets tangled attempting to fill the gap of what is known, and unknown. The larger the gap is - or rather the larger the lie is - the bigger the knot.
These knots are common and do not usually present a problem; since most lies big enough to cause a larger knot are usually resolved. When the truth is revealed, the string corrects itself. However, when a person does not come clean, or the truth is never outed, the knot permanently shortens the length of your string, thereby shortening your life span.
Do not fear the strings, for they are unavoidable, and for most people only represent the natural order. But when a quirk in the natural system is introduced – for example a pathological liar - the threads serve the purpose of correcting this mistake. A constant stream of lies quickly forms a web of knots, circling upon each other, creating an ugly, terrifying mass of untruth - starkly contrasting the beauty of a full life's design.
When the mass of untruth becomes too great, and the lies have shortened a life span to its breaking point of extreme tension, you die. You know how people say lying is a heavy burden on the soul? When your thread is finally cut short, you feel it pulling on you. Like someone is at the other end, playing a tug of war with something deep inside your chest. You're pulled to your new destiny - one that you formed all on your own; tangled - in your own web of lies.
The thread pulls on your very soul - the largest burden you can possibly bear. You're pulled directly into your car, where you drive carelessly and collide on the freeway with another driver, who comes out miraculously unharmed. You, however, are unable to be salvaged. You tangled your very soul until your body was rendered so uninhabitable, it was simply... ripped out of you with great force. A mercy for any good left inside of your twisted, broken form.
What's tied to the other end of the thread, though... remains a mystery. It's speculated that God or some other deity is at the other end - or simply fate herself, pulling on her golden strings. However, this is all human speculation and remains up for debate.
I say... something more sinister is at work behind the strings. Not fate, or a natural force even - but an evil, terrible, immortal reaper of souls. Or rather... a consumer of souls. He feeds on those he deems wicked, taking their souls for himself before their natural time - preventing them from passing on to the other side.
This thing - this... monster... is a creature of pure gluttony. It gorges itself on souls, filling up its wicked and foul body, feeding its swelling, bulbous form. It enjoys the taste of not only the soul... but even more so the lies covering the soul - like bits of tar coating a person's lungs. These bits of untruth are its sustenance. Taking people full of lies before any possible resolution is the most... flavorful meal for its foul being.
But... the question remains... why the wicked?
Why does it matter to this beast? Well... I'll tell you. Because these lies... are like bits of buttery… salty morsels. The poison of your life is... an absolute delicacy. I tell you this... because I expect to be seeing you... quite soon.
What can I say? I like to play with my food. Hehe...
I imagine you'll be here any minute. You’re near death now… I know you can feel its embrace like a vice grip upon the deepest recesses of your being. I'm about to rip your soul out of you… as your broken, useless body lays on the hot asphalt.
Don't be surprised; you're far from sainthood.
I feel them all you know... writhing inside me. Each, and every soul... crying and screaming to be let out. They all think themselves so innocent. How laughable. They plead for salvation, but did they ever give mercy? NO. Their endless lies got them here, and you are next, my dear. They say you can smell fear - but honestly... I prefer the taste. It's pure ecstasy.
You'll make a wonderful addition to my collection... I just can't wait.
See you soon.