The Secret of the Enchanted Forest: The Schmooney Trilogies

© 2004 Bob Shumaker.

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 09/13/04

ISBN: 1-4184-7735-4 (sc)

ISBN: 1-4685-1429-6 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2004094957

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

Acknowledgments

Trilogy Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

About The Author

Acknowledgments

A very special thank you to my wife of 27 years, Sharon, and to my daughter of 22 years, Katy, who gave me the opportunity to make this happen. I want to thank my family and all my friends for their continuous support, marvelous suggestions, and helpful ideas over the many years of developing this tale from a simple story into a trilogy. I also want to thank the management and staff at the Western North Carolina Nature Center in Asheville, North Carolina, for kindly sharing their fabulous facility and their immense knowledge. A special thank you to Griffin Campbell for his excellent cover art work. A special thank you to my editor, Kristan, for without her, this would have not been a reality.

Trilogy Prologue

I am sitting on a large flat boulder high on a rocky slope, watching the sky for the first signs of dawn. Ever so slowly, a soft glow begins to surface across the horizon. The slightly damp air caressing my face begins to warm as the new day begins. The soft golden radiance grows into morning rays of sunlight. The soothing hum of chirping crickets gradually gives way to the calls of birds. The animals of the day are changing places with the animals of the night. Life in the forest continues its natural cycle.

For much of my life I took this for granted.

Then, one day, I discovered the secret of the Enchanted Forest.

Ten years ago, back in my school, there were some kids who were rich. There were some kids who were really smart. There were some kids who were great at sports. There were some kids who came to school in really neat cars. There were some kids who got good grades and never studied. There were some kids who had everything. They had all those gifts. And then there was me, without any.

For much of my life I took that for granted.

Then, one day, I discovered the secret of the Enchanted Forest.

This is my story. It’s a story of a boy who discovered not only the truth of the mythical secret, but also its reality in forests like the one I am in this morning and the one that is near you. It’s a story about finding my ‘gift’ and starting to discover my purpose in life.

As I recall, it all started on an April morning in Atlanta, on a day much like today…

Chapter 1

It was an unusually warm spring day in Atlanta, as I finished packing my clothes on that late April morning. We were taking advantage of the spring break from school to visit my Uncle Steve. He lived out in the country, away from all the problems of a big city. Uncle Steve had always lived away from the crowds. He liked it that way.

We, on the other hand, had always lived in the city. It wasn’t because we liked it. I think it was mostly because that’s where my Dad happened to work. Dad taught at the local high school. He and my mom always said that it didn’t pay all that well but he did get a lot of time off. During this particular time off, we were going to Uncle Steve’s for a couple of days.

I should probably introduce myself. I am Robert Austin Cook. I was twelve years old when this story began. People who wanted to get along with me knew not to call me Robert, Bob, Bobby, or Rob. I had already been through them all and did not like any of them. Here’s the deal. Could you give anyone a plainer name than Bob? I didn’t think so. Bob was too boring, Robert was too formal, Bobby was too childish and Rob…well, hasn’t it all already been said? Being twelve, you could say I was somewhere between Bobby and Robert. I had decided that I was none of them, thank you.

So that left Austin. Where in the world did my parents dream up that one? They never lived in Texas. They said it was a family name somewhere on my mother’s side. My theory was that my family owed the Austins some money, so my parents named me after them and got a good deal on the loan. I don’t know. But that’s what I was stuck with, so everyone called me Austin.

Hey, Austin, Dad says you are holding us up!

That was Katie, my sister. She was eight. To say it had been a difficult eight years would be an understatement. The first year she cried all the time. The second year she drooled all the time. The third year she screamed all the time. The fourth and fifth years she talked all the time, and ever since she started school she had followed me all the time. The good news was that she was just starting to become human. She didn’t cry, scream, talk or follow me as much as she used to. Things were looking up.

Austin, we are leaving in five minutes, with you or without you.

That was my dad. He always seemed to think that if we didn’t leave exactly on time something terrible would happen. I am not sure where that came from. Nothing really bad had ever happened to us, not that I could remember. I didn’t think anything bad would happen this time either, but I did feel that there was something different about this trip. Have you ever had that feeling? A feeling that something is about to happen, but you don’t know what it is?

I grabbed my duffel bag and headed for the car. Whatever was about to happen, I didn’t want to be left behind.

The trip to Mountview, where Uncle Steve lived, takes about two hours. After countless trips, a pattern had developed. During the first part of the trip, no matter what time we left, we got stuck in Atlanta traffic. That monotony lulled each of us into our own private worlds.

During that time, Dad was usually very quiet. I supposed he was thinking of two things. First, he was thinking about the minute details of the trip. Second, he was thinking about all the things he had forgotten to do before we left on the trip. He’s like that.

My mom rode in the front seat with Dad, but you would never know she was there. As we drove, she stared at the road. I really don’t know why. It always made me think about how deer are frozen in their tracks as they stare into a car’s headlights. That’s what she did. As if frozen by a beam of light, she stared helplessly at the road ahead. That lasted until one of us broke the silence, however long that took.

Katie passed the time by playing with her dolls. You know, the standard stuff – combing their hair, changing their clothes, all the stuff eight-year-old girls do.

As for me, I liked to spend the time while we were stuck in Atlanta traffic thinking about my Uncle Steve and the place where he lived, and all the things we would do when we got there. He was one of my favorite people, but even if he hadn’t been, Mountview still would have been one of my favorite places.

Mountview is a small town in North Carolina. We had been going there for as long as I could remember. It was actually a really cool place. I sometimes wished that I lived there, instead of in the city. The downtown was just four or five blocks packed with old houses and buildings and shops. The town was surrounded by mountains and forests that had the coolest trails, with streams and even several waterfalls. Uncle Steve lived on the road out of town toward Prospect, another North Carolina town.

Spring wasn’t the most popular season in Mountview. The most popular time was the fall, when the leaves changed color. The place was packed with tourists then. We went there once in the fall and my dad swore that he would never do it again. I remembered how pretty it had been, but any time it came up Dad said there was too much traffic, long lines everywhere, and no bargains. Summer was a good time to be there because it was much cooler than the city. Plus the streams and waterfalls were really cold and it was always fun to hike and camp out near one. At least, those were some of my reasons for liking trips to Mountview. As for why Katie liked going there, it was simple. She adored Uncle Steve.

Uncle Steve is my father’s older brother. He had lived out in the country for most of his life and knew everything about the forest. We would go on hikes with him and his dog, Edison, a four-year-old black Labrador Retriever. While we walked, Uncle Steve would teach us about nature and tell us about Mountview. He read a lot and even had a library in his house. He knew lots and lots about animals and where they lived and how they survived. He was really good at teaching us things, but I didn’t think he had a job as a teacher like Dad did. I thought he did some kind of work outdoors for the County, the kind of thing where people ask you to do something that you really like to do and then they pay you to do it. That was cool.

This trip started in the usual way, with each of us absorbed in our own pastimes. After a while the car’s motion finally settled to a smooth, fast pace. I looked around and saw that we had made it through the Atlanta traffic and were halfway to Uncle Steve’s. I decided it was time to break the silence.

Hey, Mom, did you pack the animal crackers? I knew that would break her frozen gaze at the road.

Austin, are you hungry already? Mom turned around to look at me. I was sitting directly behind her in the back seat of our Ford.

Yeah, I don’t know what it is about riding in the back seat of a car, but it really works up an appetite, I said sarcastically. Did you bring them?

What would a trip be without animal crackers? Mom reached into a bag on the floor by her feet. Here they are. One of these days all of this food is going to catch up with you and you won’t be able to fit into the back seat.

See, Mom, that proves that there’s something good in everything! I joked.

I am not saying that back seats are all bad. They have their advantages. Parents are usually in the front seat with their backs to you. That is a good thing, because even though they are very close, they are not staring at you ready to criticize you for doing whatever it is you are doing. What is bad about being in the back seat is that everything cool about a car – the steering wheel, the radio, the gearshift – all those things are in the front seat. So riding in the back seat is a lot like sitting at your desk in school. All you can do is sit and watch what other people are doing with the cool stuff at the front.

For Katie and me, the good news was that we had a game that helped pass the time while we were imprisoned in the back seat.

Katie stopped playing with her dolls and watched as Mom handed me the box of animal crackers and the customary roll of paper towels.

Anybody want to play Name That Animal? I asked.

Katie said, I do, I do! She pushed her dolls aside and reached toward me with her hands cupped in front of her. What about you, Mom?

No thanks, Katie. I will sit here and keep your dad company. What Mom really meant was, ‘I will sit here and stare at the road for a while longer.’

OK, it’s just you and me, kid, I told Katie.

Name That Animal was a fun game to play, partly because our parents gave us something to eat and tolerated lots of crumbs in exchange for silence. Here’s how it worked. You distributed the crackers so that each player had the same number. If there were an odd number of crackers, then the dealer got to eat the odd one. Of course, I made sure that I always dealt! Then the game began. You had ten minutes to create your very own strange creature and name it. You took body parts from different animals by gnawing off the pieces of the cracker that you didn’t want to keep. For example, if I had a lion and decided to keep the head, then I would eat everything but the head and place the head on a paper towel. Next I might have an elephant. So I would eat the elephant except for, say, the trunk. Next I might have a giraffe. I would eat everything but his neck. Next I would eat the horse but save its legs. The key was precision biting. And here is the best part – you got to eat all the crackers, with the exception of the animal parts that you needed to save, and then at the end of the game you ate those parts too. And nobody yelled at you about the crumbs. What could beat that?

Dad loved the game because he could concentrate on driving and think about everything he forgot to do, so it was peaceful for him. Mom loved the game because she could stare at the road some more without anyone interrupting her. Sometimes she played, but she usually came up with really dorky names. And Katie and I liked the game because we were stuck in the back seat with little else to do anyway. Besides, unlike other games, this one guaranteed snacks. So when it came to playing this game, it made sense for everyone.

Dad had come up with Name That Animal a long time ago as a way to keep us quiet