When Edmund of the Grumpy Bear tribe was born, the various paths that lead to this life, his previous lives, and the various lives he could lead after his birth, the various choices he could make, all flashed in his mind… And, when he was born, his mind was stunned. He did not cry out for his mother, nor did his body struggle against the sting of the winter air. At that moment, the fae told him what he was, and they told him what he could be, and his young mind could not bear the burden of whatever choice they desired. He lay naked and still, his shallow breath the only thing that signaled the flickering candle flame that was his life.

“What’s wrong!? What’s happening!? Someone call the Shaman! I said bring me the damn Shaman!” A man calls out fiercely. An explosion was building inside him and if the servants didn’t bring the Shaman soon, his wrath would come crashing down.

A woman’s weeping began to resound. “Oh, Gaia, what have we done? My child does not cry out with life; he is still like the dead! How have we offended you, oh goddess!?” She cries out to the empty room.

The man sits next to the woman. In her arms was the child, quiet and motionless. “Easy Heidi. The child is fine. There is still breath in him. The child breathes Heidi! And the child will grow to be as strong as an ox! I promise you!” The man says with gentle caresses and a coaxing tone.

The woman could only continue to weep.

…

…

Several years flow by, and like a river carving into stone, the childhood milestones and birthdays, the various choices and lessons learned, were etched into young Edmund’s mind. As he grew, as his personality became more corporeal, he began to make sense of what the fae told him that day. They said he was this, they said he could be that, but what was it really? It’s all hooey! Young Edmund thinks. And in a way, he was right, and at least he felt he was right. As he continued to grow, an idea began to settle. What I was, what I could be? What is it really outside of this moment? It’s just one big fairytale! I am me! I am Edmund! He thinks defiantly.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

But unfortunately, the fae were not satisfied with that answer. They demanded more, much more, they demanded a hero who would reach for the clouds, someone who would be who they could be.

So, like mischievous little sprites, they continued to haunt him. This isn’t what the Edmund would do! He would stretch out his hands and demand the earth separate so that he could plant his seeds! Why aren’t you doing it!? The fairies would call out.

Eventually, they began to remind Edmund in various other ways of who he was. They embodied their idea of Edmund and tried to show young Edmund the authority that he could carry, and the intensity of his martial spirit. And sometimes the fae connected young Edmund to past stories, of adventure, of woe, of heartbreak, and of hard won victories, and they projected these visions into young Edmund’s dreams.

Edmund was scared out of his wits! Scary spirits were following him around demanding things! And ghosts were haunting his dreams! It was dreadful. Young Edmund could not rest for several days.

Eventually, Edmund’s mother called the Shaman and she purified the room and she placed an offering on an altar to appease the spirits. What could the spirits do? They could only be satisfied for the moment. But as all mischievous spirits do, they began to plot their next move. And this time, they would involve the deities…

…

…

“Mother?” Young Edmund calls out as he kneads the dough.

“Yes, honey.” Edmund’s mother, Heidi says as she continues to knit in her rocking chair.

“Why is my name Edmund?” He asks casually.

Heidi smiles as she recalls the day. “The day of your birth, I was gathering water from the well. It was a cold, cold day, and the wind was relentless. As I filled my pail with water, the North Wind whispered your name into my ears. ‘Edmund’ they said. They really did. After that, you started knocking! Bit of a scuffle that was, but in the end it was done and you were born. And a big, red-cheeked bugger you became. That day, when the wind whispered, I knew, that the heavens knew of your name.” She says with a loud sigh of remembrance. “And what a beautiful day that was.” She says as she looks to Edmund with some pride.

Edmund’s brows furrow and he continues to knead the dough, putting in more force than necessary. “Maybe…” He says with some worry.