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    The Forest Path
    The Forest Path
    The Forest Path
    Ebook146 pages2 hours

    The Forest Path

    By Meg Grimm

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Enter the enchantment of folklore with a collection of fictional tales based on wildflower legend. The Forest Path features short stories set in modern times and brushed with magic. The perfectly portioned tales offer a peek into wildflower traditions. A must read for fairy tale and folklore enthusiasts by Christian author and researcher Me

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStory Spinner Press, LLC
    Release dateDec 31, 2020
    ISBN9781734786774
    The Forest Path
    Author

    Meg Grimm

    Meg Grimm is a Christian multi-genre author extending an invitation to live in wonder. She has created books and media on natural healthcare and medicine from a biblical perspective. Her passion is to identify God's truths about beauty, magic, and folk legend in modern day, and to provide tools and principles to be set free.

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      Book preview

      The Forest Path - Meg Grimm

      Cover.jpg

      The Forest Path

      Six Tales of Enchantment based on Wildflower Folklore

      Meg Grimm

      Copyright 2020 by the author Meg Grimm

      All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

      Published by

      Story Spinner Press

      Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania

      www.storyspinnerbooks.com

      For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to thepost@storyspinnerbooks.com.

      First Printing, December 2020

      Printed in the United States of America

      ISBN 978-1-7347867-6-7

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2020925696

      Preface

      What you hold in your hands are the stories that marked the beginning of my journey as a writer. Most of these tales are my earliest complete writings. I began to pen them one day having told myself that if I was ever to learn how to write, I needed to write. That was, after all, what every book about writing really said. (Now you don’t have to buy any yourself.)

      For a long time, these stories were my practice. I wanted to find out if I could write outside of what I knew. Could I write from a man’s perspective? From a child’s? Could I write in the third person as well the first? Could I write an action scene just as well as a love story? Could I write about a lifestyle, a time period, or a region I knew not of? Could I describe the behavior of wolves? Or blackened battlefields? Could I create magic and make someone fall in love?

      At the time, I was already being drawn to folklore, but I didn’t know it. I thought my obsession with wildflower lore was an interest in herbs and plants. The two came together to became a thread connecting all these very different stories. And as it turned out, that thread would set the stage for my writing to come.

      I never thought I would publish these so-called practice stories, but they have became a significant part of me. I have revisited them innumerable times through the years.

      I recall the first time someone with credentials said that people would like reading them. Over time, others who I thought should know said so, too.

      That’s not why I finally decided to publish The Forest Path. When I was told that someone might like to read these stories, it was at that time that I first began to call myself a writer. Before that, I felt it was a sacred honor that could only be bestowed upon me by a publishing house. I could not simply claim it.

      But I decided then that if I was going to be a writer, I must own my craft. Whether I was a good or bad writer was yet to be known, and there would be room for improvement all my life. But I was a writer just as much as any other. And one day, I would be a published author if I kept doing what writers did.

      Whether or not you do like reading these stories as some thought you might, I thank you for giving them, and me, a chance. They represent the beginning of a wonderful adventure. I hope you might stick with me on it. The beginning is always a bit bumpy, but the summit is worth the climb.

      I’ve always wondered where the forest path will go.

      Meg Grimm

      December 2021

      Red Means Love

      In Roman mythology, roses represent pain, suffering and death.

      Today, tradition has attached associations to rose color.

      Red means love.

      T here was so much Joshua wanted to tell Addie. Like that right now he was perched in the opening of a Black Hawk prepared to dive out into the hazy, war-smoked sky before him. Even if he could, would she understand any better now than she had before? Although a life needed saved in the combat zone below, somebody else could do it, she would say.

      A droplet of sweat trickled into his eye. He blinked and shook his head. He rarely thought of Addie at a time like this when a mission was moments away. She was part of his other life, the one separated from the world of the military. So why was her face in his mind now staring at him with those deliberate eyes? I told you so, she seemed to say.

      Something was wrong. But it couldn’t be. He had done this so many times before. Through the dust and debris he could make out the contours of the dry, tawny earth below. It looked just like the maps. He could visualize the mission with sureness of every step. Simple. Uncomplicated. No different than any other mission in other deployments. So, why the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach? It was growing. That was unmistakable. And why was he thinking of Addie?

      Ready! It was an order rather than a question from the aircraft pilot. In the corner of his eye, Joshua caught a glimpse the man’s red face. Instantly, another red face flashed into his thoughts. He saw the bully, Johnny Olson, from his days at Oaksdale Elementary sauntering across the pavement of the playground. Joshua sat cross-legged with a basketball in his lap. Suddenly, he was eye level with Johnny’s scarred, knobby knees.

      Joshua loves Addie! Johnny sneered, an evil jack-o-lantern grin revealing two chipped teeth carved into his round face.

      No, I don’t!

      You gave her a red flower. I saw it! Red means love. Joshua Perry loves Addie Huckabie!

      Joshua shook the visions away. This was not the time. He refocused his gaze on the earth.

      He was ready, wasn’t he? He was always ready.

      The blades of the Black Hawk thundered overhead. Joshua took a deep breath and allowed the sound to drown out all other noise and become a beating drum in his soul. It was the sound of mission. It was the sound of destiny. It was the sound that pushed him forward. In less than a minute he would be rappelling through the open air. This would begin and would not end until the mission was complete. It would not end as planned unless they all did everything precisely. He could rely on the other soldiers posted next to him. No one ever wavered on a mission.

      The Black Hawk jerked slightly and a gust of damp wind smacked him.

      The wind carries your message.

      Another face rushed into his mind, this one from the depths of his memories. It was a face he knew well, but it was the face of long ago. The big, bright eyes of a little girl bore into his.

      The wind carries your message, Addie had said when they were just children. She had long hair then.

      He shook his head. What was going on?

      Joshua assumed the position to jump, his body rigid and jaw set. His eyes blazed down at the war-torn land. The Black Hawk lowered, and in an instant that seemed to stand timeless, as instants like this one always did, the command was given. Joshua and his comrades fell into the air.

      All at once her face appeared again. The lure of her eyes pulled him into their gaze with sudden control as no other force could, not even the need to focus on his descent. He peered into their gray-green. Wind whipped his body as though he were caught in a swirling tornado. A dark cyclone of dread. Why was this happening? His intuition finally began to take over, but it was too late.

      Her lips parted.

      The wind carries your message to the one you love. Grandma told me, so I know it’s true. … Love does it. Love does magic things. …Joshua? Where are you going? Will you come back? Come back soon, Joshua… Promise you’ll come back...

      The phantasm vanished, and Joshua barely had time to prepare for landing. No sooner had his feet touched the Iraqi soil than the shooting began. Darting for cover behind some small fortified hills, he heard shouting. The enemy moved in, but the side gunners of the orbiting aircraft were covering him.

      Dodging debris and staying low to the ground, Joshua moved almost supernaturally, zigzagging in and out of danger like lightning. He was the fastest. He was the best.

      That’s why you’re here, Commander Houck had told him when he arrived at camp.

      Joshua bounded over a ditch, dropped and rolled through an exposed notch in the hills. He was on his feet again in seconds. As expected, a crumpled body came into view only fifteen feet away.

      Private Lowery lay motionless on the ground hardly protected from the enemy’s fire. In a swift, powerful motion, Joshua was beside him covering the man’s body with his own and pulling him away from the crest of a hill. Bullets whizzed through the air and ricocheted off of the earth around them. The Private’s eyes were closed. A diamond shaped piece of shrapnel protruded from his torso. Thick blood seeped from the wound. Not bright red as blood from a surface cut, but the red gore from inside. There was not much time.

      Hang in there!

      He carefully pulled the Private down the bank until they were protected by the hill. Then he heaved him up and ran. The muscles in his legs enflamed with power and adrenaline. Just as he reached the evacuation point, he spotted some of the squad. Together they would transport Lowery to a safe location on the other side of a nearby Iraqi village. This was almost over.

      Just then, a blast erupted directly in front of them. Rocket propelled grenades. The whole world seemed to quake as black smoke filled the air. Joshua dropped Private Lowery to the ground and hunched over him. He could hear debris falling all around as particles showered them.

      The once nearing sound of heavy Black Hawk blades retreated. They would be back. They were prepared for the unexpected. Under him, Private Lowery lay motionless. But he was not gone. Not yet.

      Lowery! Stay with-

      Another explosion burst toward them. A piece of charred metal whirled through the smoke and collided with Joshua’s helmet. Another larger piece struck his right ankle, crushing it.

      He was stunned for a moment. Then the pain seared through him. That

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