Penned By Fate

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You don't know how and you don't know why, but sometimes the things you write come true.

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He comes to you first through your writing.

For as long as you can remember, you've been writing small snippets of prose, creating a random collection of stories between an unnamed man and woman. You pour your hopes, fears and dreams into these fictional people, living vicariously through the penned words of your imagination.

The sun beats down on her face, warming her body, filling her with the solid weight of contentedness. She sits cross-legged on the bench, a book folded neatly in her lap, but her mind is elsewhere and instead she watches the gentle sway of the leaves on their branches. Tracing along the spine of the book, she jumps and gives a squeak of surprise as a pair of strong arms wrap around her shoulders and she feels the soft press of a kiss to the crown of her head.

Turning, she smiles and softly kisses the side of his face, his beard prickling against her lips. She can feel his smile grow under the weight of her kiss and hear the low hum of his laugh in her ear.

You pause in your writing and frown down at the page. Flipping back through your pages, you quickly realize this deep voiced, bearded fellow has wormed his way into all of your little musings without you even noticing. You curse softly under your breath, "Well, shit. Who are you, beardy man?"

Your eyes skirt around the small coffee shop, hoping no one is listening to your external monologue as you sink further down into your chair, clutching your notebook closer to your chest.

Chewing on the end of your pen, you imagine what this mysterious beardy man looks like. Slowly, you drop your pen to paper, his description seeming to flow onto the page.

Average height. Moderate build with a touch of softness, especially in his cheeks. Piercing green eyes under a pair of dark, shapely eyebrows. A long, sloped nose. Full, soft lips that pull back into a brilliant, white smile. Dark brown hair kept long which curls at the nape of his neck. Full beard, thinner on the sides than at his chin. And a deep, rich voice that glides like silk and resonates through the air around him.

The second your pen lifts from the paper, you feel a prickle of adrenaline rush up your spine and the atmosphere around you seems to crack with energy. Goosebumps break out along your arms and you can hear the sizzle of electricity running through the air and smell the distinct scent of rain. Looking around, bewildered, you seem to be the only person experiencing...whatever this is you're experiencing.

Your skin still tingling, you glance back down at your notebook and your eyes widen in shock. Before you, the words you had just written begin to burn, the page browning and crinkling like old newspaper. The air seems to crackle one last time as the yellow-brown burn finishes curling around each letter and you gingerly touch your words, surprised when the page seems to burn slightly under your fingertips.

Pulling your hand away, you stare down at your notebook with a sense of wonder.

You didn't know it then, but that would be the first thing you write that would come true.

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He comes to you second during the storm that follows.

Wind and rain swirl around you as you try in vain to loosen the lug nuts on your tire, your fingers slipping on the cool, wet metal of the wrench. Lightning splits the sky, landing and scorching the ground only a few feet from where you kneel, your scream swallowed by the following peal of thunder.

"Fuck!" you curse, shaking, the wrench falling from your grip. You look up towards the dark sky in wonderment. "What is happening?"

The first rain drops had started falling as soon as your words had cooled on the page. The first rumble of thunder shook the ground shortly after you had shoved your notebook in your purse and started for your car. The first crack of lightning struck as your car hit the pothole, sending you swerving. Now, the storm rages on as you sit shivering in soaked clothes, your toes squishing uncomfortably in your shoes.

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