A Point Of Coincidence

They called it a Coincidence Point – or a Fortuitous Narrative Conjunction. They called it many things – but it was a stress point in The Narrative that people traveled to so that they might have things happen … there were many conducive spaces out there, and if you were aware you could make them work for you. Give the space something and it might reciprocate and offer you something in balance.

Kerrin would bring cards here and divine next steps. Or he might bring The Book Of Numbers and find a Hexagram for the week. Some weeks he would daisychain sites and see if he could construct a good fortune cascade that might domino rally him into the right place and the right time for something bigger to happen.

He opened up his umbrella golf chair, forced the spike at its base into the ground, and perched upon it. He poured a little whisky on the ground, and then took a swig from the flask. What was the question? Sometimes he’d arrive in a place full of answers and have no idea what the questions were that he wanted to ask.

Sometimes he would ask only that – what should I be looking for?

And a raven, perhaps one associated with Odin himself, dropped a small stone in his lap. It wasn’t exactly a distinct rune, but as he held it, he got the idea that it was a static metaphorm, and that if he meditated on it he would get the necessary picture.

How long would it take? Who knew?

A girl sat down beside him, and she handed him a star map.

‘The king is circled in there. Take him the stone and he’ll give you the sword.’

He fell into a deep sleep. He woke a stutterstep on, his breath a little ragged, with a toadstool ring around him. He stood up and he knew where he was going – it was the way he liked things; to be an open door that welcomed answers in, and then to use it to turn the engine and drive himself forward. He had a notion that at some point, when he stopped moving forward, the place where he stopped might become a similar kind of place … a Coincidence Point.

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