{"id":29489,"date":"2023-10-31T01:10:35","date_gmt":"2023-10-31T05:10:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/?p=29489"},"modified":"2023-10-31T15:48:32","modified_gmt":"2023-10-31T19:48:32","slug":"from-the-minds-of-aeor-a-series-of-shorts-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/2023\/10\/31\/from-the-minds-of-aeor-a-series-of-shorts-2\/","title":{"rendered":"From the minds of Aeor, a Series of Shorts"},"content":{"rendered":"

Karma Kamara<\/b><\/span><\/span><\/h1>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cIt was the best of times, it was the worst of times,\u201d she said as she snapped the book closed. \u201cNot much else could be worse than this, if you ask me.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

She put her weathered copy of A Tale of Two Cities<\/em> down on the cot beside her, a small cloud of dust puffing out around it. It was the only thing she had now. Not a smartphone, her laptop, her closetful of clothes; nothing. Everything here was dusty and dirty. What more could you expect from an abandoned building? She was too scared to clean, though, to be honest. If she cleaned, someone might notice the place wasn\u2019t quite vacant anymore.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Kamara wasn\u2019t too clean herself. She had been on the run for what felt like forever, even if it was only a few days. Her lowcut V-neck sweater used to be a pretty mustard yellow. Now it was more of a dingy brown; caked as it was with sweat, mud, and dirt. Thankfully she had been wearing a decent pair of pants when she ran, instead of her usual skirt. As it was, her jeans looked like those fashionable ones, finally. You know the ones \u2014 the kind with all the tears and such. Except hers were brand new and didn\u2019t have a single abrasion when she put them on. Now they had several tears and some stains of blood; the skin of her knees having torn when the jeans did.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

This was no place or state for a 23-year-old woman to be in. It had been the longest and hardest few days of her life. Which isn\u2019t saying much, in all reality.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Kamara Prescott had a pretty easy life set for her. Her parents were pretty well-off, and they all lived in a good area. Their house was a good size (but not quite a mansion), and it was always clean, even when the maid had her day off. Heck, the fact that they had a maid should mean her life was good!<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Her normal day was spent in her room reading whatever book caught her eye. No one bothered her and she didn\u2019t bother anyone, in return. Twice a day she would emerge for food, and that was it.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

She immersed herself in fantasy books, mostly. Diving into the magical worlds of Tolkien, Martin, and Gaiman. Her favorites were the ones where a normal person would have greatness thrust upon them, like Paolini and Matharu. You would think her extensive reading would have prepared her for what happened, right? Wrong.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The craziest thing happened to her on November 29th, just under a week ago. She had been called by her mother to visit some family member she didn\u2019t know as a courtesy. The guy was apparently dying or something. It sounds cold to think about it now, but she didn\u2019t even know this man! Her mom had said he was her grandpa, but both of her grandfathers were already gone. She had gone to their funerals.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The man she saw on the bed, wires and tubes stretching from him everywhere, was white like her, and you could see a hint of her copper hair under his grey. His nose was a similar shape to hers, she supposed, but his eyes were identical to her own. The baby blue spheres were empty and staring at the wall, but she could see the same patch of hazel around the pupil; just like hers. Not even her own parents had that particular trait.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

She went to his bedside and looked down at him, confused. He was related to her somehow but couldn\u2019t be her grandpa. Maybe her mom had been mistaken and meant great uncle or something. That had to be it. This guy was related but distant enough for her not to have met him.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

She stood there looking at him for what felt like hours. Everything felt like it took forever outside of her books, to be honest. Her legs were starting to tingle, and her arms felt very heavy. Her mother was on the other side of the bed, arms crossed, looking between them. She seemed mad or impatient for some reason. Kamara couldn\u2019t understand why, though. Her mother had brought her here, it was up to her to move whatever this was along.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Just as her mother opened her mouth to say something, the man stirred. His eyes fluttered and his head tilted to the side, his breath coming in a deep gasp. It sounded like when someone is woken from a deep dream, adjusting in an instant from fantasy to reality. It was an interesting sound but paled in comparison to the interesting look he was giving Kamara.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

His eyes had lost their far-off fog and had zeroed in on her. There was a look of confusion, then recognition, then \u2026 pity. He closed his eyes soon after and raised a hand to her, palm up, offering it to her. She glanced at her mom, fear obvious across her own face. Her mother, however, looked pleased, and motioned for her to take the man\u2019s proffered hand.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

With a shudder she raised her hand, shaking slightly in her sudden anxiety, and placed it in his. His skin was cold and dry, looking very frail, but the grip he clamped over her fingers was deceptively strong. His eyes snapped open again once her fingers were in his grasp, bones crunching together with his strength. A voice not her own then spoke within her mind.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRun as soon as you can. You will end up like me if they keep you,\u201d the voice said within her head. \u201cThey will use you until you die, drying up every bit of energy you have. I look ancient, but I\u2019m only 23; same as you, dear sister.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

She gasped and winced as he clenched her hand tighter. She didn\u2019t have a brother! She had always been an only child. Looking into this man\u2019s eyes, however, she somehow believed him.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey took me away when we were young, as soon as I showed what I can do. You had scraped your knee and I LITERALLY kissed it and made it better. I\u2019ve been here ever since, healing people for them. It takes a lot out of me, but they don\u2019t care. These people pay a lot of money for my services.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t have a brother and I don\u2019t have anything like that. Neither do you! It\u2019s not real! I may read fantasy books all the time, but that doesn\u2019t mean I\u2019m delusional enough to believe this!\u201d Her voice in her head sounded shrill and panicking, but it was only in her head. She couldn\u2019t quite make the words reach her lips, and she couldn\u2019t seem to break away from this man\u2019s gaze.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou do, you do, I do, it is, and you\u2019re not. You are perfectly sane, for now, but you must run the first chance you get. I\u2019m used up. I\u2019m going to die. Before you leave this room, I\u2019ll be dead. Once I give you my power, I will die.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you are my brother then keep your damn power! Keep it and live! I can carry you out of here!\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey would never let you, for one, and I wouldn\u2019t last long without all these wires anyways. All I can do now is give you my ability and give my warning. You have to run. This ability is great, but it takes a greater toll. You can only heal others and it drains you of your energy. If you use it too frequently it starts to drain your own life as payment.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf they know this, why don\u2019t they let you rest! You could go on healing people but still live!\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey didn\u2019t know until it was too late, and now they don\u2019t care. I\u2019m used up anyway so they might as well finish me off. The last task I can do is to transfer this to you. I could give it to anyone, but I convinced them it had to be you.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you want me to run, why would you give it to me? If you want to save me, why would you condemn me?\u201d She tried to pull her hand free, but her muscles wouldn\u2019t listen to her.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I know what you can do, but they don\u2019t. Eventually they will find out about you, too, and you\u2019ll be in the same situation anyway. This way I get to see you again and warn you!\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t have any power! I\u2019m not special, I\u2019m just a book worm!\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou do! You have to try and remember! It was the same day I was taken away. Remember!\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Kamara\u2019s memory snapped back to a time when she was only about five or six. She had been playing in their garden, building a fairy village out of sticks, leaves, and mud. There was a boy walking up to her, almost identical in appearance. He was smiling at her but stopped when he saw what she was doing. She looked back down, herself, and gasped. There were actual tiny fairies inspecting her handiwork.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Something in her head had popped, then, and the fairies disappeared. They were there and gone in less than a minute. Kamara had marveled as they seemed to blow away in a breeze. She looked up, wide-eyed, at her brother and saw the men coming up behind him. One of them grabbed him and pivoted on his heel, carrying him away like he was a bag of groceries.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCorvin!\u201d Kamara screamed in her mind, as her it released her back to the present.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s my name, don\u2019t wear it out.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s all true,\u201d she said in her thoughts, tears forming in her eyes.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJust remember to run, dear sister,\u201d his voice echoed through her skull.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

His eyes finally fluttered shut and she was released from whatever trance she was in. She gasped and tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was still ironclad.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d said the woman across the bed from her. \u201cJust let it happen, you\u2019ll be okay.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMom, I\u2019m scared,\u201d Kamara said as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s fine. It\u2019ll all be over in a moment. Do it, Grandpa.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Corvin\u2019s hand tightened on her own and he started to shake. His eyes scrunched up and sweat instantly broke across his brow. He was in pain. Whatever he was doing was hurting him.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Their hands grew very warm and almost seemed to glow as Kamara felt pins and needles begin to flow from her arm to her shoulder. It spread across her chest and down her arms and legs, her whole body going numb. Then it traveled up her neck, over her face, and into her brain.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Something in her seemed to click as whatever the sensation was, settled into the back of her head. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked at her brother. He had gone still and was calm again, but his chest was no longer rising and falling. There was a long beep echoing in the room as her mother smiled and flipped a switch. He was gone, finally at peace.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRun,\u201d whispered a voice in the back of her mind. Kamara Prescott gritted her teeth as she cried and vowed that she would not end up like her brother. As soon as she could, she would leave. She would run away and never look back.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Three days later she finally got her chance. Her parents locked her in her room as soon as they got home, giving her meals twice a day. It wasn\u2019t until they brought the man in the wheelchair that she saw more than a glimpse of the hallway.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

They brought her to the sitting room and sat her before the old man. He reached out and took her hand in his, his eyes searching her expectantly. A fire began to burn in the back of her head. She knew that, if she wanted to, she could take the pain away from him.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Instead, she reached beside the chair and grabbed whatever was on it. Her father’s favorite book, A Tale of Two Cities. She gripped it hard and swung it in front of her, smacking the man across the face. Her parents rushed to check on the now-bleeding, man and she rushed out the door.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Two days later, Kamara was huddling in an abandoned building, crying as she tried to rest after running for longer than she ever had. There was only one thought that kept repeating in her head: \u201cNow what?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

A voice within her finally answered, \u201cNow you have to figure out how to use your power to get us out of here.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

**<\/b><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

About the Author:<\/b><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Aeor Odinson<\/b><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Aeor Odinson is a relatively young person from the middle of nowhere, Ohio. Having grown up in a very conservative area, his life was bound to end up one of two ways. Option one was to become one of the many and follow the stifling traditions of everyone else. Option two was to break out of that mold and become the eccentric, colorful, and happy person that he is today.
\nAeor started life as a Christian but was troubled by their overall hatred for homosexuals, as a gay man himself. One day he asked a wiccan friend what their view on people like him was and was told the age old phrase, “And it harm none, do what ya will.” That’s all it took. The next several years were rough and filled with hardships but during that time Aeor found Odin and Freya. Through them and following their path for him, he overcame every obstacle set before him and has been a practicing pagan for two decades. Aeor is now living a life of beauty, love, and creativity, striving to share his experiences with the world through his writing and art.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Karma Kamara   \u201cIt was the best of times, it was the worst of times,\u201d she said as she snapped the book closed. \u201cNot much else could be worse than this, if you ask me.\u201d She put her weathered copy of A Tale of Two Cities down on the cot beside her, a small cloud of dust puffing out around it. It was the only thing she had now. Not a smartphone, her laptop, her closetful of clothes; nothing. Everything here was dusty and dirty. What more could you expect from an abandoned building? She was too scared to clean, though, to be honest. If she cleaned, someone might notice the place wasn\u2019t quite vacant anymore. Kamara wasn\u2019t too clean herself. She had been on the run for what felt like forever, even if it was only a few days. Her lowcut V-neck sweater used to be a pretty mustard yellow. Now it was more of a dingy brown; caked as it was with sweat, mud, and dirt. Thankfully she had been wearing a decent pair of pants when she ran, instead of her usual skirt. As it was, her jeans looked like those fashionable ones, finally. You know the ones \u2014 the kind with all the tears and such. Except hers were brand new and didn\u2019t have a single abrasion when she put them on. Now they had several tears and some stains of blood; the skin of her knees having torn when the jeans did. This was no place or state for a 23-year-old woman to be in. It had been the longest and hardest few days of her life. Which isn\u2019t saying much, in all reality. Kamara Prescott had a pretty easy life set for her. Her parents were pretty well-off, and they all lived in a good area. Their house was a good size (but not quite a mansion), and it was always clean, even when the maid had her day off. Heck, the fact that they had a maid should mean her life was good! Her normal day was spent in her room reading whatever book caught her eye. No one bothered her and she didn\u2019t bother anyone, in return. Twice a day she would emerge for food, and that was it. She immersed herself in fantasy books, mostly. Diving into the magical worlds of Tolkien, Martin, and Gaiman. Her favorites were the ones where a normal person would have greatness thrust upon them, like Paolini and Matharu. You would think her extensive reading would have prepared her for what happened, right? Wrong. The craziest thing happened to her on November 29th, just under a week ago. She had been called by her mother to visit some family member she didn\u2019t know as a courtesy. The guy was apparently dying or something. It sounds cold to think about it now, but she didn\u2019t even know this man! Her mom had said he was her grandpa, but both of her grandfathers were already gone. She had gone to their funerals. The man she saw on the bed, wires and tubes stretching from him everywhere, was white like her, and you could see a hint of her copper hair under his grey. His nose was a similar shape to hers, she supposed, but his eyes were identical to her own. The baby blue spheres were empty and staring at the wall, but she could see the same patch of hazel around the pupil; just like hers. Not even her own parents had that particular trait. She went to his bedside and looked down at him, confused. He was related to her somehow but couldn\u2019t be her grandpa. Maybe her mom had been mistaken and meant great uncle or something. That had to be it. This guy was related but distant enough for her not to have met him. She stood there looking at him for what felt like hours. Everything felt like it took forever outside of her books, to be honest. Her legs were starting to tingle, and her arms felt very heavy. Her mother was on the other side of the bed, arms crossed, looking between them. She seemed mad or impatient for some reason. Kamara couldn\u2019t understand why, though. Her mother had brought her here, it was up to her to move whatever this was along. Just as her mother opened her mouth to say something, the man stirred. His eyes fluttered and his head tilted to the side, his breath coming in a deep gasp. It sounded like when someone is woken from a deep dream, adjusting in an instant from fantasy to reality. It was an interesting sound but paled in comparison to the interesting look he was giving Kamara. His eyes had lost their far-off fog and had zeroed in on her. There was a look of confusion, then recognition, then \u2026 pity. He closed his eyes soon after and raised a hand to her, palm up, offering it to her. She glanced at her mom, fear obvious across her own face. Her mother, however, looked pleased, and motioned for her to take the man\u2019s proffered hand. With a shudder she raised her hand, shaking slightly in her sudden anxiety, and placed it in his. His skin was cold and dry, looking very frail, but the grip he clamped over her fingers was deceptively strong. His eyes snapped open again once her fingers were in his grasp, bones crunching together with his strength. A voice not her own then spoke within her mind. \u201cRun as soon as you can. You will end up like me if they keep you,\u201d the voice said within her head. \u201cThey will use you until you die, drying up every bit of energy you have. I look ancient, but I\u2019m only 23; same as you, dear sister.\u201d She gasped and winced as he clenched her hand tighter. She didn\u2019t have a brother! She had always been an only child. Looking into this man\u2019s eyes, however, she somehow believed him. \u201cThey took me away when we were young, as soon as I showed what I can do. You had scraped your knee and I LITERALLY kissed it and made it better. I\u2019ve been here ever since, healing people for them. It takes a lot out of me, but they don\u2019t care. These people pay a lot of money for my services.\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t have a brother and I don\u2019t have anything like that. Neither do you! It\u2019s not real! I may read fantasy books all the time, but that doesn\u2019t mean I\u2019m delusional enough to believe this!\u201d Her voice in her head sounded shrill and panicking, but it was only in her head. She couldn\u2019t quite make the words reach her lips, and she couldn\u2019t seem to break away from this man\u2019s gaze. \u201cYou do, you do, I do, it is, and you\u2019re not. You are perfectly sane, for now, but you must run the first chance you get. I\u2019m used up. I\u2019m going to die. Before you leave this room, I\u2019ll be dead. Once I give you my power, I will die.\u201d \u201cIf you are my brother then keep your damn power! Keep it and live! I can carry you out of here!\u201d \u201cThey would never let you, for one, and I wouldn\u2019t last long without all these wires anyways. All I can do now is give you my ability and give my warning. You have to run. This ability is great, but it takes a greater toll. You can only heal others and it drains you of your energy. If you use it too frequently it starts to drain your own life as payment.\u201d \u201cIf they know this, why don\u2019t they let you rest! You could go on healing people but still live!\u201d \u201cThey didn\u2019t know until it was too late, and now they don\u2019t care. I\u2019m used up anyway so they might as well finish me off. The last task I can do is to transfer this to you. I could give it to anyone, but I convinced them it had to be you.\u201d \u201cIf you want me to run, why would you give it to me? If you want to save me, why would you condemn me?\u201d She tried to pull her hand free, but her muscles wouldn\u2019t listen to her. \u201cBecause I know what you can do, but they don\u2019t. Eventually they will find out about you, too, and you\u2019ll be in the same situation anyway. This way I get to see you again and warn you!\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t have any power! I\u2019m not special, I\u2019m just a book worm!\u201d \u201cYou do! You have to try and remember! It was the same day I was taken away. Remember!\u201d Kamara\u2019s memory snapped back to a time when she was only about five or six. She had been playing in their garden, building a fairy village out of sticks, leaves, and mud. There was a boy walking up to her, almost identical in appearance. He was smiling at her but stopped when he saw what she was doing. She looked back down, herself, and gasped. There were actual tiny fairies inspecting her handiwork. Something in her head had popped, then, and the fairies disappeared. They were there and gone in less than a minute. Kamara had marveled as they seemed to blow away in a breeze. She looked up, wide-eyed, at her brother and saw the men coming up behind him. One of them grabbed him and pivoted on his heel, carrying him away like he was a bag of groceries. \u201cCorvin!\u201d Kamara screamed in her mind, as her it released her back to the present. \u201cThat\u2019s my name, don\u2019t wear it out.\u201d \u201cIt\u2019s all true,\u201d she said in her thoughts, tears forming in her eyes. \u201cJust remember to run, dear sister,\u201d his voice echoed through her skull. His eyes finally fluttered shut and she was released from whatever trance she was in. She gasped and tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was still ironclad. \u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d said the woman across the bed from her. \u201cJust let it happen, you\u2019ll be okay.\u201d \u201cMom, I\u2019m scared,\u201d Kamara said as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks. \u201cIt\u2019s fine. It\u2019ll all be over in a moment. Do it, Grandpa.\u201d Corvin\u2019s hand tightened on her own and he started to shake. His eyes scrunched up and sweat instantly broke across his brow. He was in pain. Whatever he was doing was hurting him. Their hands grew very warm and almost seemed to glow as Kamara felt pins and needles begin to flow from her arm to her shoulder. It spread across her chest and down her arms and legs, her whole body going numb. Then it traveled up her neck, over her face, and into her brain. Something in her seemed to click as whatever the sensation was, settled into the back of her head. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked at her brother. He had gone still and was calm again, but his chest was no longer rising and falling. There was a long beep echoing in the room as her mother smiled and flipped a switch. He was gone, finally at peace. \u201cRun,\u201d whispered a voice in the back of her mind. Kamara Prescott gritted her teeth as she cried and vowed that she would not end up like her brother. As soon as she could, she would leave. She would run away and never look back. Three days later she finally got her chance. Her parents locked her in her room as soon as they got home, giving her meals twice a day. It wasn\u2019t until they brought the man in the wheelchair that she saw more than a glimpse of the hallway. They brought her to the sitting room and sat her before the old man. He reached out and took her hand in his, his eyes searching her expectantly. A fire began to burn in the back…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":289,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"iawp_total_views":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[14958],"tags":[14870,13324,11351,14957,13630,10515],"class_list":["post-29489","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-aeor-odinson","tag-fantasy","tag-fiction","tag-karma-kamara","tag-short-story","tag-story"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29489","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/289"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=29489"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29489\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":29492,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29489\/revisions\/29492"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=29489"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=29489"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/paganpages.org\/emagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=29489"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}