Primal Power 1: The Unripe Apple

By Linn Frances

Not wanting to get stepped on or eaten the courageous traveller begins a risky trek into the unknown. With only life experiences to depend on, this magical epic adventure triggers the realism of her past. This enlightened novel is sprinkled with personal growth tools as the gifts from her traumas are u

• Language: English
• Publisher: Primal Power Productions
• Release date: Jan 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781775376026

Linn Frances

Linn Frances enjoys people of all ages, animals, nature, and the arts. Most of the time she'shappy and peaceful, however it wasn't easy. She had a traumatic past with a constantbarrage of hardships and adversity that was interwoven with kindness and miracles. She had tolook deep into her life to overcome what she had gone through. She is, and hopefully alwayswill be, learning from her most important and difficult education - the school of life. One day while meditating, a fantasy fiction unfolded which became Primal Power - The Unripe Apple, a spirit quest fantasy series. They've combined both a mystical world with a practical one and flavoured with her learnings. The reader becomes intrigued and connected to an adventurous journey while getting a glimpse of her yesterday's world. Perhaps they'll see a bit of their own story. Maybe even find a little healing from the past or a bit of magic as there are hidden gifts throughout. If you're reading this, she's honoured that you've taken the time to do so. She'll be trulyhonoured if you take the next step and read the series and turn the pages into another realm. If you find something that helps you find peace, you've given her a gift. If you find a bit of wisdom it would be really nice if you took a few moments and wrote a sentence or two to let her know. Thank you for being you!

Book preview

Chapter 1 - Behind the Wall

The side of the wall was dark grey. I think I was walking backwards or maybe it was the wall that was going forward? I was not sure. Then I realized it was time, I must be moving against time. Suddenly, I disappeared. Where had I gone?

It was as if I had walked through the wall into a place where the furniture had clawed feet holding crystal balls. The ceilings seemed higher than anything I had seen before. What on earth was I doing here? Had I walked into an ancient temple and if so, what was I searching for? What was I here to find?

Then I saw her! She looked wise and beautiful. Her long, flowing wavy hair was a golden-brown much like that of a sandy beach. She sat cross-legged slightly above the floor, her eyes gazing upon the world, or at least that was what it looked like. It looked like a round ball; a globe representing the world with another round ball representing the moon. The two orbs were levitated slightly above her hand and the light from her aura shone upon them so brightly that I wondered whether I was seeing them at all.

The woman was very large, or I was very small. The crystal balls encased in the clawed feet of the furniture seemed large also. To tell you the truth, I think they were bigger than me, or at least rounder; I might be taller.

Oh my, where was I? What was I doing here? Was being small a good thing or a bad thing, or did it matter? At least I was small enough to hide, that could be good. My size was also small enough to be stepped on, or eaten, but she did not seem mean. She did seem powerful, very, very powerful. She seemed more powerful than anyone I had ever seen and right now I wanted to hide and observe for a while, at least until I could figure out what I was doing here. The inside edge of the chair leg seemed a good place to hide; yes, that would be my destination.

The marble tile, pink with grey swirls, seemed huge and a wee bit of a trek to get across. Each tile seemed like a marker, measuring I was a little bit closer. Finally, I made it.

Tired from the adrenaline that had been pumping during my marble trek and mostly hidden by the front claw of the chair, I peered out at her. She never moved, thus I had no idea if she knew I was there or not. It was so quiet and peaceful. I could hear the pumping sound of my heart. Could she hear that? Then there was a noise. It was not a loud noise. I peered over the other claw; a large wooden door open. There were actually two very large doors, but only one had moved.

The door did not have knobs or handles. It swung into the room and there stood a man with no hair; just a bald shiny head which was exposed as he bowed. He wore a brown hooded robe. He reminded me of a monk, but I was not sure if he was, but then again, I was not sure of anything.

His hands were folded in his sleeves and he spoke in a deep, but soft voice, May I disturb you? was all he said.

Of course. Her voice was so gentle and kind, making me feel that if she saw me, I would be safe and cherished.

However, I was not ready for that step. The thought of being safe did bring a sigh out of me. I hoped it was muted by the footsteps of the robed, bald man as he sauntered across the floor and sat in the chair above me.

We have a visitor, he said once he sat down.

Could he be talking about me?

I know, she answered.

Oh, how I loved her voice, it was so soft and soothing.

Do you think our visitor is after the primal power? he asked.

Ahhh, the one that is light-giving, active, and of the spirit, many are after that, she said with a glance and a slight nod that led back to her still orbiting world.

She really had not answered his question, at least I did not think she had. Power? I hoped they did not think I was after power, because I wasn't. I did not even know what I was doing here. I certainly didn't come here for power!

It takes someone of very strong character to even get this far, said the male voice above me.

Strong? I didn't feel strong. How did I get this far?

There was silence for a moment before she spoke, Yes, it is the continuance of time and the power of persisting. It is the creative and thus the creative are often those who seek it.

That was only a thought. Was she answering my question or simply responding to his comment?

Should we do anything about the visitor?

Not at this moment, she said and then became silent and still, so very still, as she was when I first saw her.

The visitor shall wait then. He stood and stayed there for a moment. Maybe he was looking at her or maybe he bowed; I could not tell from my position. He walked across the marble floor, arrived back at the door, turned, bowed, and left.

Was I the visitor? Was I the creative? I was an artist and I loved to paint, but I was very little. In my world I felt little. A nobody who likes to put paint on canvas because... because I do. I do not really do anything with the paintings, I just paint. 'Yes, it is the continuance of time and the power of persisting. It is the creative and thus the creative are often those who seek it.' Seek the power?? They could not be talking about me for I was not power hungry.

There I go, making it about me. It wasn't about me. It could not be about me. So I just stared at her and the orbiting world, and suddenly the whole room changed; it became dark on this side of her and light on the other. So, I changed my position and I peeked out from under the chair; it was as if I was staring up at the whole universe. The stars, all the planets, the whole universe, seemed to be inside of this room!?

With my head just out from under the chair, I laid on my back and thought about the stars. Was she holding the world and the moon? Had she created the stars? Is that what they thought everyone was after, the power to do that? That was my last thought before I closed my eyes.

Chapter 2 - Birds and Burlap

When I opened my eyes again, there were no stars, just a large room with an extremely high ceiling. The ceiling was tiled. It looked as if each of the tiles had a picture painted on them, but I could not quite see the details as they seemed very far away. Oh no, my head was sticking out from under the chair; I was not hidden. Quickly scurrying back under, I sat by one of the claws that was holding a crystal ball. A crystal ball that I wished I could see into, but the only thing it showed me was my reflection upside down. What had happened to my life? My bed that I should have woken up in?

The woman holding the world I could no longer see. It was simply a very large empty room with a chair and doors. Doors that I had not seen yesterday as they were on the other side of the woman. She was so breathtaking I wouldn't have noticed if anything was on the other side of her. One door was ajar with a bit of light shining through a crack. It was probably opened just enough for a mouse. I was not much bigger! Would I be able to make it through? Should I?

The empty room had marble tiles that seemed to go forever. There was light shining through stained glass windows that was reflecting colours on the floor. There were no smells, just an abnormally clean, bare feeling room with cool tiles under my unshod feet. Was last night an illusion? It could not be, for I was still here.

Would she return again? Had I walked into a dimension where I could see her sometimes but not all the time? Would I be here for eternity? Left in a huge abandoned room without food or water? Was it just a building and if I proceeded to go through the crack in the door would I be back in my world?

Making my way over the huge pink and black tiles I peered through the tiny opening. It looked like a courtyard, at least as far as I could see. There did not seem to be any movement. So I took a deep breath, held my stomach in, and I edged myself between the doors.

Once outside, I was standing upon a cobblestone walkway. It felt rougher than the smooth tiles. It was, however, still cool upon my unshod feet as the morning sun had not yet brought its warmth. The dry smell of dirt was tickling my nose; I was not really used to that, but then again, I was not used to having my nose this close to the ground.

The cobblestone walkway seemed to lead to a set of stairs with a dirt road at the bottom. It looked as if the cobblestone and the dirt road were connected. The property must be sitting on a corner. The road at the bottom seemed to disappear into the trees. So, I started walking down the cobblestones to get a better look as to where it might lead.

It was then I heard a strange rumbling noise; had the ground actually shaken? Turning my head to another sound as it was different and sounded very close! Swish, swish, swish and there in front of me stood a woman, a very large woman, large like the monk.

She wore a grey dress with a odd, wooden looking hat with a brim all around and she was sweeping. She was sweeping the cobblestone walkway. The very one I was on! Now what? 'Scurry and then pretend you are a stone,' said the voice in my head, so that was what I did.

She approached very quickly as one of her steps seemed like thirty of mine. By the time I reached the property's edge, close to the stairs, she was almost there and so was the wagon. The wagon I had not seen, only heard and felt for I was too busy scurrying, was quickly coming down the dirt road. It was grey, like driftwood and it had two wooden bars hooked up to what looked like a donkey.

There was a man riding the animal and the wagon seemed to be full, at least it looked like that from my view, for the top of the wagon was almost adjacent to the property. The wagon was slowing down, probably to take the corner at the bottom of the stairs.

The swish, swish was very close! I covered my eyes like a little child. 'If I can't see you, then you can't see me.' However, I would never know whether the woman saw me or not. I must have been hit by the broom and the next thing I knew I was flying into the air.

Ow, ow, that hurt! Why was it dark? Had I landed in the wagon? It seemed like I had landed on fruits and vegetables in burlap bags. Had I slid down between them? The fabric bags felt a bit scratchy upon my skin. Gripping their roughness, I climbed closer to the top.

'Do I jump?' No, the wagon was going too fast as the road beneath it was quickly moving past. It felt similar to being in a car. In my lifetime, I had been thrown out of one of those. It hurts when you land, but you were grateful that you were alive; that was, if you were as lucky as I was and lived through it. However, right now I was thankful I was alive, for as much as my body felt sore and bruised from being hit by a broom and landing on a wagon, I was alive. The bruising would have to be ignored for the moment as I needed to figure out where I was going and maybe, just maybe, figure out what I was doing here.

Once on top of the bags I peered at the man. He was much smaller than the others, or was I bigger? I was not sure. Did I grow as I was being flung through the air or was it just his size in comparison to mine? Studying him I determined I would probably reach his knee if I stood. So, hiding might be more of an issue.

With the smell from the dirt and the smell of the sweetness of the fruits and vegetables, we travelled down the bumpy dirt road. The wooded area seemed different to what I was used to, as the trees seemed taller and bushier. Then again, I was very small in comparison and I must stay focused for the scenery was not as important as my situation.

While we were travelling, I thought about all the scenarios that could exist when we came to a stop and what I would do to try not to be seen. I must understand the demands of the time and what was required of my situation before I could know what would be necessary for me to do.

Being this small and not understanding what was going on meant I must not strive for anything too lofty, but just hold onto and be thankful for the small things. Maybe I would find my way. However, I would have to observe and be exceptionally conscientious of every action, at least until I had some sort of understanding as to what was going on.

The wooded area lessened, and I could see mountains in the distance and clouds in the sky. There was a great rumble, so I hid. Had we hit something? I then realized there was thunder rumbling in the mountains similar to the fear that was rumbling through me. When I looked up, I saw a bird, a beautiful bird with a small beak. It would be a small bird if I was the same size as the man riding the donkey, but I wasn't, so the bird was very large as it was about half my size.

It had a light brown head. Its face and half its chest were covered by red feathers that came up in the middle. It looked like an upside down heart or like it was covering a woman's breasts. The rest of the chest was white, running into the light brown and then dark brown. The dark brown covered its wings and its back. It was very beautiful and had kind black eyes.

It sat on the wagon looking at me for a time and then the bird spoke; it was speaking my language, even though I knew my language wasn't being spoken.

Do not fear the thunder in the mountains for it is releasing the fear, but instead keep your mind still. That will help you, for you, like me, are very small.

It spoke as if it had no lips and only a tongue to form the words. Of course, it didn't have lips, I knew that, however, that was the only way I knew how to describe the voice.

There is thunder in the mountains. You need to go back to your nest and be safe until you know which way to go.

I would love to go back to my nest, I cried, but I am lost and in a strange land. I do not know which way to go. I do not know where it is safe to be. I just want to do everything right. Tears fell across my cheeks like rain upon the smooth rock of the mountain. I don't even know where I am.

Sitting on the edge of the wagon the little bird studied me for a bit before it whistled a song, a song I didn't understand.

Shortly thereafter, several other birds came and they began tugging and pulling at the bags on the other side of the wagon. Were they trying to find something to eat? No, that couldn't be it, because some of the vegetables were outside of the bags and the birds seemed to have no interest them.

Drops of water fell and the rain was soothing my bruised body, however the thunder and the birds were indicating that a storm was brewing thus I might not feel the same way in a few moments. The birds still tugged and pulled until they had torn off a piece approximately the size of a blanket and dropped it upon me. Had these birds given me this piece of burlap so I might have a little more protection from the natural elements?

Upon that thought tears from the kindness flowed, Thank you, I squeaked, that was very kind.

Ascending in the air for a second and then sitting on the edge of the wagon, the birds all stared at me. Was I supposed to do something? Finding a comfortable position, I pulled the blanket around me. Was that what they wanted?

Squawking, for lack of a better description, as they were not singing; instead they were flying on and off the back of the wagon as if they were flying off the handle a wee bit. Was I not appreciative enough? My instincts were giving me the feeling they did not mean to hurt me, but how do I ask them what they wanted me to do without sounding rude? Maybe the burlap was not meant for me, but if I hand it back, would that be rude?

Then the wagon came to a stop. A broad, plump man with shoulder length grey hair got off his donkey. He was dressed in brown trousers and a brown buttonless shirt that looked a step above a burlap bag. Walking towards us, he waved his arms yelling for the birds to get away from his wagon. Thankfully, I had the burlap blanket! Grabbing it, I crawled down between two of the bags of vegetables. Pulling the burlap over top of me I hid underneath it, trying not to scratch my itchy nose or shake in fear, for the man seemed very angry.

The looseness of the thread count in the burlap allowed me to see him but him not to see me. The birds flew away. The man examined the top of the bag they had torn the piece from, he looked up into the air, shook his fist and said something. I didn't understand what he said, but I was sure it was not very nice. He went away, at least out of my view, and the next thing I knew we were moving again down the bumpy dirt roadway.

Now I was really scared, but I knew I had to stay positive, so I thought of the woman in the temple. The thought of her somehow made me feel more peaceful. I was wondering if I should have stayed when I felt something tugging on my burlap blanket. It was my bird friend and when it spoke, its voice was soft and quiet. It told me to climb to the top of the vegetable bags and then get on top of my blanket. That did not make sense but I had a strong feeling I needed to trust. So, I did what I was asked to do.

Standing in the middle of the blanket I watched all the birds come back. Suddenly and unexpectedly, they swarmed around me and with their clawed feet they each clutched a bit of my burlap. It all happened so quickly that when they started lifting the blanket I came plopping down upon my buttocks!

With the weight of my fall the birds lost a bit of momentum, but not for long, as they were able to takeoff once again. They flew with me sitting on the burlap blanket, up into the air. It felt much like how I had imagined a magic carpet ride. Only I was going more up than across with my hair blowing in strange directions as it caught the undercurrent from the wings. It was not a long flight, and I barely had a chance to wonder where we were going, when I was put down on twigs and branches.

Where am I? I asked softly as I looked around through the branches of the trees into the sky.

You said you did not have a nest, so we are sharing our nest with you, at least for the time being, answered my bird friend.

Thank you so much! I was quite scared sitting on the back of that wagon, I said, still feeling a bit disoriented.

The bird looked way up, paused, and then looked down as if it was focusing on something in the middle of its nest. The bird rolled its shoulders up to its cheekbones, then rolled them back and down. Its feathers ruffled and moved and then settled looking smooth as silk. My bird friend then became still, still like the woman holding the world, so very, very still. I looked through the tree branches into the mountains and watched the veil of the blue sky push the storm clouds away. The rain was subsiding, and rainbow colours were emerging across the sky.

The bird's eyes suddenly opened wide and out of its beak came the words, The white crane. It hopped up on the edge of the nest and sang a song.

One of the wonders,

You of longevity,

Patience and perseverance,

Oh wise woman of time.

You that brings guidance.

You that brings perseverance

And transition of time.

Let's form a dance,

let's form a dance.

Time to gather.

Time to dance together.

We will form a dance,

We will form a dance

Oh wise woman of time.

Chapter 3 - The White Crane

After a while a white bird flew over. It perched on the edge of the nest, and said:

I know where it is

The entrance,

The cave.

It is in the mountains

Behind the pool

Where the water flows.

The night, the night, the night,

The full moon,

Timing, timing.

It must be rising

It is only then that

Your light will get through.

Jumping into the nest, the white bird sat directly in front of me, brought its shoulders back and down, and stared into my eyes. What was I to do? Was I supposed to stare back? So, I sat with wonder, staring into the small round eyes of the bird. We were there for what seemed a long time, until a sense of peace and reassurance came over me.

Then the white bird jumped back on the edge of the nest and looked at my bird friend.

Will you gather? questioned the white bird.

I shall gather, said my bird friend.

Then the white bird flew away.

Turning towards me, my bird friend said, Rest now, eat, be joyful, and feel safe. It is only a day or so before the moon is full. I will go find you some food and we shall eat well in the days to come. Then my bird friend flew away.

Sitting in the nest I peered out watching the rainbow fade as the sun got brighter and brighter. The nest seemed to be lined in fluff, maybe from a shedding animal. A piece of straw or a twig that had wheedled its way through the fluff stabbed me, though it was nothing that a little patting down didn't solve.

My stomach growled; food, yes, I was feeling hungry. Well, at least that was familiar because changing sizes and ending up in a bird's nest certainly was not; what had happened to me? Was this some sort of heaven or another dimension?

I had thought dimensions were a change of consciousness where things were brighter or darker depending on your state of mind.

Before I went through the wall, I had felt betrayal in almost every part of my life. The type of betrayal that there was no coming back from; a hurt that changes you forever.

Well, this place so far, was a lot brighter than that. What happened yesterday had to stay there, at least for the moment, because right now, I was in a bird's nest. I was dependent on feathered creatures with beaks who eat... worms, and worms were exactly what I received.

My bird friend was very proud to come back with them. Well, it was protein. I heard they were full of it and supposed to be the thing to eat if someone was starving.

A polite smile crossed my face, hopefully it did not look as forced as it felt. Remembering the soft, soothing voice saying, 'It takes someone of very strong character to even get this far,' I decided I needed to be strong and brave. Bracing myself for the taste, I dangled a worm above my mouth when I saw in the sky... birds, white birds.

In the lead were several carrying a bag, with many more of the white birds following behind. The bag was put in front of me and was topped-full of berries. Beautiful, ripe glorious berries and I did not think I had ever seen fruit looking more amazing than I did at that moment.

Gathering in the trees the white birds sang the same song my bird friend had sung previously.

As the moon peeked its head over the mountain they started to fly; swarming and dancing they mesmerized me into a deep, deep sleep.

When I awoke the forest was busy. Some of the birds had fuzz hanging from a tree. They seemed to be smoothing it, making it into a thick yarn while other birds were hooking the yarn onto tree branches. Soon I realized they were using the tree branches as their loom with a very small bird acting as a shuttle flying the yarn in and out.

The squirrels were chattering away. I was instructed to go down to the ground to gather sage, sweetgrass, cedar, berries and an unripe apple. So, with my bird friend's help I gathered these things, not knowing why, but at this point all I could do was breathe away my fear, and trust as they were the only friends I had.

Being small had its advantages because I was able to crawl underneath the berry bushes. It reminded me of when I was young and would do the same, so I could get all the plump ripe juicy berries that hung in the middle. All the birds chattered and sang as we took breaks from our work, ate berries, and drank refreshing water from the nearby spring. By the end of the day everything was gathered, and I had found sage, sweet-grass, cedar, berries and an unripe apple. The apple took a while to find because I was too small to pick one from a tree. Finally, I found one on the ground; it was quite bruised and for the most part, unripe, but an apple nonetheless.

Up in the tree, the material in the loom was finished, and the birds were singing their song while they swarmed and danced. This time I was on the ground. I gently waved my arms in the air and focused on a couple of the birds. I did my best to move with them as they circled above. It made me feel like I was part of their magical dance. Tiredness took over. I spread my burlap blanket out and laid down, letting the white swirling of magical dancing birds lull me to sleep.

When I awoke, I was back up in the nest and my bird friend was standing behind the top of my head with its chin tucked into its chest, staring into my eyes.

Good, you are awake, we are ready for you, today is the day, were the words said as my eyes came into focus.

Today... is the... day? I muttered in a sleepy tone.

The day of the full moon, we are ready for you, come.

Jumping up to the edge of the nest and then hopping along a branch my bird friend beckoned me to follow. A gulp fell slowly down my throat, I wasn't totally awake and certainly not used to hopping along branches, especially ones this high up. 'Ohhh-kay, I can do this', I reassured myself, but I didn't do it very well. I held onto every little branch I could. Sometimes I crawled while the birds chattered in joyful laughter. Finally, I made it to where there was a piece of material with twigs and pieces of wood woven into the middle.

They beckoned for me to sit on the wooden base and to pick the sides of the material up. It came up to my chin. Handing me a branch in a circular shape, they guided me to thread it into the top rim. I needed to hold the sides up so I could put in the twigs which allowed it to finally stand erect in the shape of a basket. Bringing my burlap, they took me to the ground where we ate and drank before they flew me back up and put me in the basket.

What happens now? I questioned.

The white crane will come and take you away.

Will I see you again?

That I do not know, said my bird friend, we see the dance once a year, but we have never prepared anyone for the journey before, thus we do not know. There is the white crane now. Good luck my friend, we need to sing.

Thank you, thank all of you, thank you! Then as the crane came closer I said under my breath, I think, I hope, it's thank you.

Don't forget what you have gathered, said one of the birds as another dropped a pouch in my basket. Swooping at me, the white crane came so close I thought I was going to be hit! The next thing I knew, I was flying in a basket that was held in the beak of a crane heading towards the mountains. Even if this was a dream, it was unlike anything I had experienced before.

Flying by crane was interesting, however I think I would have preferred a closed cockpit. It was a smooth enough ride although my stomach was very queasy. With my hair blowing clear of my face we flew above the trees into the mountains. Swerving around the mountain passes, I really wished I wasn't feeling nauseous as the view was so breathtakingly beautiful; it truly deserved much more enjoyment than I could muster.

Finally landing on a cliff, my basket was set down. The crane was not very friendly, so I merely watched as it pecked at the rocks and the bushes eating insects and berries. Should I get out of the basket and have something to eat? My stomach had just begun to settle thus I decided against it.

My senses became alert to the moistness and heaviness in the air and as I looked down, I saw a long fissure in the rock. Changing my focus, I saw two more cranes coming towards us. The three of them gathered