Seer’s Destiny……

3 Mar

Next in the Fireflies Fantasy GSP Promo is another release in the Carnival of Illusions series from the lovely Aubrie Dionne.


Aubrie Dionne is an author, flutist, and teacher in the New England Region. Her young adult fantasy novel, Dreams of Beauty, is published by SynergEbooks. Her work will be showcased in the fall issues of Niteblade and Silverblade magazines, Wyvern Publications Dragontales Anthology, and Nightbird Publishing’s Night Bird Singing in the Dead of Night Anthology. Her science fiction space opera, Nebula’s Music, was recently contracted by Lyrical Press and is coming out in 2010. Her short story collections are published by Gypsy Shadow Publishing.  Her pirate story will be published in Bedazzeld Ink’s Skulls and Crossbones anthology in January, 2010 and her short story, Song of the Bard, will be featured in Mindflights ezine in 2010. She currently teaches flute at Plymouth State University and a local community music school. 


Her book we are highlighting today is Seer’s Destiny


Vira’s crystal ball only shows bleak and harsh truth. Visions of her own destiny haunt her, an inevitable night where ecstasy and horror are intertwined. In her future, she is reunited with her long lost love and then viciously murdered, her limp form stained in blood. Logic screams at her to flee the carnival and challenge fate, but her heart keeps her on a steady path, longing for a last chance with the man she loves, even if it means her own demise. Can Vira change her fortune?


I need to know if she’ll be famous someday.”
    Vira’s eyes fluttered, her long, black lashes batting in the air. She tilted her head back, the rhinestones and beads glinting on her head scarf as she swayed precariously before focusing her energy and gazing into the fathomless mists of her crystal ball. Her voice seemed to resound from another dimension, solemn as an effigy.
    “There is an old farm house with chipped white paint and bricks of clay veiled in weeping willows. I see a rusty blue pick up truck and a red checkered tablecloth hanging from a clothes line, wafting on a summer breeze.”
The couple sat before her, huddling together. They leaned forward with keen eyes, eager for more. “But what of her career as an actress? What about all of the money we’ve invested in her lessons?”
    Vira peered deeper into the glass, sifting through the wisps of time. She sensed movement inside the house, a flickering motion in front of the master bedroom window and could smell the sweet tang of apple pie baking in the kitchen. Was that the outline of a woman carrying an infant?
     She pressed forward until her temples throbbed from the pressure, but the scene remained unchanged. She was losing contact with the tenuous strand of thought. As she pulled the vision closer toward her, the very boundaries that held it threatened to tear.
    “I’m sorry, there is no more that I can tell you.”
    “But you didn’t tell us anything.” The man’s eyes flared and his neck bulged with irritation like an angry bullfrog. His wife covered her face with her hands.
    Vira stifled a frustrated sigh, long black nails tapping on the crystal. People only wished to hear their fondest dreams, and never the looming reality. Other tellers would stoop so low as to feed them a delusional future in order to squeeze an extra tip. Not Vira. She prophesied the truth, whether it was invited and embraced or not.
     “I warned you before we started that my visions are not complete. I can see glimpses of her future and nothing more.”
    “You’re not a true fortuneteller, then, are you?”
Vira swept one long, ebony curl away from her eyebrow and underneath the scarf. Her blue eyes filled with a sad wisdom beyond her years. “Has it occurred to you perhaps she wants a different life?”
    Sometimes she felt like more of a counselor than a fortuneteller, persuading people to accept the futures awaiting them. The frequent disappointments were the reason she had people pay up front.
    The man stood up quickly from his chair, taking his coat in one arm and pulling his wife up with the other, “Come on, honey, we’ll try someone else. This woman is obviously a fake.”
    They stormed out the front flaps of her tent, velvet curtains swishing behind them. Outside Vira could hear the toot and chime of the rickety carousel mingling with children’s laughter as it spun around another turn, gilded horses gliding over trampled grass. Although the sky verged on sunset, the festivities just began. The carnival blossomed, —even reveled in the twilight hours of the night.
    The light of the crystal died slowly until it was only an ember of white radiance, sparkling in the center and casting shadows on the billowy awnings that shut the world out. Vira tried to shake off the unpleasant encounter. Years of dissatisfied customers did not curb the sting.
    Deep down in her gut Vera knew her powers were far from fake. In fact, she was the only true seer of the carnival, her visions disturbingly real. Oftentimes, she cursed the fact her crystal ball failed to portray the world through a rosy glass. But in the end, she’d rather know the truth than paint some dreamy picture of a future that could only exist in a fairytale.
     Vira moved to check for another customer when the crystal called her back, pulsing a warning of faint light. She took her seat reverently, placing her small hands on the table beside the bronze dragon claws sprouting from the wood, holding the crystal gently in serpentine talons.
    She knew what the crystal had in store. The scene was all too familiar, yet every time she watched it run its course, her heart raced as if it were happening in that very moment and not some distant future. Every vision began and ended the same: she beheld her wildest dreams betwixt her most frightening nightmares. Worse yet, the visions were getting more frequent, occurring daily.
    Each time she found her true love, the young man who had eluded her for almost a decade. And each time she witnessed her own death, the blood running rampant until the crystal blotted red. The vision mesmerized her, turning her to stone as she observed with her eyes wide open. She wished that somehow the chain of events would magically be broken.
    And now the crystal would tell it again.
    Vira leaned in and watched, powerless. When the mists cleared, she saw a night with a crescent moon overhead, a glossy scythe dressed in wisps of black clouds. It stared at her with a bleak, covered eye, indifferent to the scene transpiring below. Beams of light shone down on the board walk, merrymakers sauntering from stall to stall. She could make out Jimmy’s dart booth, followed by the wishing well. Behind the teetering rides loomed the cage of the mythical beast captured for display, the last one of its kind. It was the true draw of the Masquerade Carnival, for in the barred depths of the prison paced the hunched-feathered aging harpy.
    A man emerged from the crowd. His face was stronger now, leaner, with crisp angles. But his vibrant green eyes held the same brilliant luster. She remembered his name, savoring it slowly on the tip of her tongue. Bravian. One night, a decade ago, when she was a young teenager, he had asked her to run away with him.
    “Trust me,” he said, pulling her hand. His hand was hot with excitement and passion. “We can escape all of this and live a normal life.” She had refused. Tempted by lust, but not convinced. The carnival was the only home she’d ever known. It embraced her talents and cherished her with a quiet dignity. The real world would mock and shun her abilities. She would be forced to stifle them or branded witch evermore. The decision was one she would ponder these ten years, rolling it around in her mind like a loose marble, eternally unresolved.
    Now there he was in her crystal ball ten years later with the nerve to stroll her boardwalk in a calm and confident stride. More importantly, he searched, scanning the grounds. Vira’s heart wondered if he searched for her.
The vision played out like a movie she’d watched a thousand times. She saw herself meet him, fall into his arms as if the past were yesterday. She could almost feel his heat against her body as she watched the mists unfold her destiny. The two of them nibbled on caramel popcorn and frizzy cotton candy, rode the Ferris wheel and kissed underneath the stars.
    They enjoyed a wonderful night until the gunshot and the sheets of red. As always, the mists of the ball were ambiguous, blotting out the murderer’s face. She could make out the gun, a shiny steel cylinder glinting in the moonlight, movement around her, and then the pop of the explosion.
    The last image that surfaced from the murky orb was of blood. She was covered in it, lying on the ground with a grimacing mask on her face. It soaked into her billowy white seer’s shirt until the fabric was a dark scarlet. There was so much blood on her limp body it could fill the dipping tank.
Vira leaned back, her head reeling. The vision had come and gone and now the crystal lay silent. She could leave the carnival, pack her bags and attempt to change her fate. But a quiet resignation and gnawing hunger, bordering on madness, kept her here night after night.
    She craved Bravian’s touch. She yearned to see him again, to feel his arms hold her tightly. Even if it meant her own demise. Part of her feared her future, wishing it would never come, but a greater part of her beseeched it each and every day.
    Logic dictated that her destiny was unavoidable. Every future she’d ever told came true. Even if she’d try to run away, fate would wind its web together and she’d find herself back in Bravian’s arms on the appointed evening at the predestined time. Why fight the inevitable when half of your soul had already sold itself to come true?
    A hopeless romantic, that’s what I am. Vira chided herself as she stepped out into the emerging night. She swung her gold painted tarot sign of the sun and the moon commingling around from Seer’s Welcome to Temporarily Unavailable. She’d had enough disenchantment for one night and was in no mood to torture another customer with the truth. A full moon hovered over her head, predicting this night would bring only more of the same. She was safe until the next crescent moon pierced the midnight sky. Her crystal ball showed no other in each vision of her future.
    Vira walked around the rides, skirting the dank cage that held the feathered harpy. The sight of the mysterious beast always unnerved her, fear and pity creeping in like ghoulish ghosts. She had too big of a heart for such complicated emotions. It was far easier to ignore and deny rather than pity.




2 Responses to “Seer’s Destiny……”

  1. chalaedra March 3, 2013 at 5:56 pm #

    Reblogged this on Chalaedra's Weblog and commented:
    Seer’s Destiny, another of the enchanting stories from the Carnival of Illusions Series.


  1. vague. | SO - March 4, 2013

    […] Seer’s Destiny…… ( […]

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