I feel like I'm on the edge of something, maybe it's faith, or maybe it's blind luck.
I have zero faith, I follow the trusted belief of not believing in things, things happen, and there ain't no grand plan. Then all of a sudden remarkable coincidences pop out of the ground like spring flowers after a warm spell. Here is the conundrum, riddle me this:
About five months ago some friends and I crafted a short story through random improvisation. A tiny little seed of a story that rested dormant in the back of our minds, growing subconciously as time moved on. Then this week I read a short story in a book written fifty years ago that made our story seem like a perfectly fitting prelude.
I know what you are thinking: so what? There are about seven original stories in the world, of course a chord of one might find harmony in another. You are right, but it wasn't the plot, characters or atmosphere that jolted my memory. It was the details, the totally random details: a cave, two hermits, white beard, treasure, sequined dress, english chests of draws and more.
I asked the others if they had read the story years ago, or even other books by author, in case the details had been lodged in their subconcious, but no. I know that just one coincidence isn't so important, but this follows many others. This is a time when pieces are fitting together far too easily and fate seems to be pushing me along.
I still don't have faith, but I am doubtful it is all down to blind luck. I feel that I used to be tuned to a frequency that was only static, and now I am tuned to someone/something else.