The Little Frog Who Fell in Love With the Moon
Once, not too very long ago, there lived a little frog who never looked up at the sky. Oh, he had glanced at it, from time to time, but there had never been anything to see. The swamp in which he lived was a gray and rainy place and the sky overhead was just a blanket of dismal clouds that spat rain down at him, day or night.
Then, one day, the rain stopped and that evening the little frog saw something new in the water of his pond, something he had never seen before. A glowing circle of light, dancing across the top of the water. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
He tried to go into the water after this beautiful vision, but each time he did so she disappeared and he concluded that she was a shy creature, to be courted gently and patiently. And so he did just that, bringing gifts of flowers to float along the water beside her, and chirping little ditties of love and devotion in his shrill froggy voice. And once or twice, he could have sworn he saw her wink at him, though that may have simply been a cloud passing by.
As the days became weeks, the little frog noticed his lady began to change. Her light seemed to be dimming, growing smaller and smaller. At first it was just a small change, but over time he could see only half of his lady's light. And the little frog was afraid. As the days progressed, he became convinced that some dark -thing- was slowly enfolding his love. That she needed protection, and aid. He dove into the water again to search for her.
He found no trace of her below the surface of the water, but when he came up again for air he could see her, a little further along, closer to the mouth of the river that fed the pond. He followed.
For nights and nights the frog traveled along the river, sleeping when the day's light chased her image from the water. He had many dangerous adventures, dodging gigantic fishes with sharp teeth and the terrible furry beasts that lived along the waters edge and hunted within it.
Now.. to you or I, an otter might not seem like such a fearsome beast. But you must imagine how one would look to a very small frog.
Finally, in the depths of a much larger pond, he found her. Or thought he had. A shining circle of white in the depths. But just as he began to head toward her, the maw of a terrible beast closed around her and swallowed her up completely. You see, the frog had never seen a clam before, or a pearl.
He dove down to face the beast, trying to pull its terrible jaws apart. But his little arms and legs could not shift the grip of the beast. Exhausted and panicked, the little frog looked around for anything that might help him, and then he had a sudden crazy, desperate idea.
He swam with all of his might back to the river, and the terrible furry beasts, finding one snoozing, floating along on its back. He gave the monster a firm kick to wake it. Then he swam desperately back toward the pond, with the beast giving chase.
Down down to the depths he dove, and hid himself behind a rock as the furry monster came face to dreadful maw with the dark devouring beast and scooped it up in its terrible paws. A dreadful cracking sound came from the creature, and the frog spied his lady love, falling through the water toward the silty bottom of the pond.
There was no time for caution. The little frog sprang from his hiding place and caught her as she fell, pulling her against his chest. She lay there, hard and cold, and he feared the worst. But he kicked on, toward the surface of the pond, sure at any moment the furry beast would spy him and come to devour him as well.
As he broke through the water, the little frog was at the end of his strength. With a final desperate lunge he threw her far far away from him, pleading with her to run, to flee, to hide herself and live as he could not. This was the last bit of strength left him, and he fell into darkness and sleep.
When he awoke, the gentle lapping of the lake had pushed him to the shore, where he lay on his back among the tall grass and water weeds. And there, shining in the sky above him, was his lady love. Safe, and whole, and brilliantly beautiful. And he, silly little thing that he was, believed his final throw had put her there. He wept for joy.
His chirping cries drew attention to him, and he heard a rustling in the grass. "This is the beast." He thought. "Come to finish me off." He would have fled, but he had no strength and it didn't matter now anyway.
The tall grass parted and he saw another frog. A lady frog. And she seemed to him to be the most beautiful thing in all the world, even more beautiful than the moon. And this is as it should be.
The frogs were married, and loved each other with all the strength of their tiny brave hearts. And soon the pond was full of little tadpoles. They would gather, in the evenings, around their father to hear the tale of his journey down the river, his rescue of the great beauty, still keeping watch over the pond from above.
And they, being quite as silly as their father, believed every word of it. Though, I suppose, we cannot fault them much for that. For have we not, at some point, all believed that our own fathers truly hung the moon?
Then, one day, the rain stopped and that evening the little frog saw something new in the water of his pond, something he had never seen before. A glowing circle of light, dancing across the top of the water. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
He tried to go into the water after this beautiful vision, but each time he did so she disappeared and he concluded that she was a shy creature, to be courted gently and patiently. And so he did just that, bringing gifts of flowers to float along the water beside her, and chirping little ditties of love and devotion in his shrill froggy voice. And once or twice, he could have sworn he saw her wink at him, though that may have simply been a cloud passing by.
As the days became weeks, the little frog noticed his lady began to change. Her light seemed to be dimming, growing smaller and smaller. At first it was just a small change, but over time he could see only half of his lady's light. And the little frog was afraid. As the days progressed, he became convinced that some dark -thing- was slowly enfolding his love. That she needed protection, and aid. He dove into the water again to search for her.
He found no trace of her below the surface of the water, but when he came up again for air he could see her, a little further along, closer to the mouth of the river that fed the pond. He followed.
For nights and nights the frog traveled along the river, sleeping when the day's light chased her image from the water. He had many dangerous adventures, dodging gigantic fishes with sharp teeth and the terrible furry beasts that lived along the waters edge and hunted within it.
Now.. to you or I, an otter might not seem like such a fearsome beast. But you must imagine how one would look to a very small frog.
Finally, in the depths of a much larger pond, he found her. Or thought he had. A shining circle of white in the depths. But just as he began to head toward her, the maw of a terrible beast closed around her and swallowed her up completely. You see, the frog had never seen a clam before, or a pearl.
He dove down to face the beast, trying to pull its terrible jaws apart. But his little arms and legs could not shift the grip of the beast. Exhausted and panicked, the little frog looked around for anything that might help him, and then he had a sudden crazy, desperate idea.
He swam with all of his might back to the river, and the terrible furry beasts, finding one snoozing, floating along on its back. He gave the monster a firm kick to wake it. Then he swam desperately back toward the pond, with the beast giving chase.
Down down to the depths he dove, and hid himself behind a rock as the furry monster came face to dreadful maw with the dark devouring beast and scooped it up in its terrible paws. A dreadful cracking sound came from the creature, and the frog spied his lady love, falling through the water toward the silty bottom of the pond.
There was no time for caution. The little frog sprang from his hiding place and caught her as she fell, pulling her against his chest. She lay there, hard and cold, and he feared the worst. But he kicked on, toward the surface of the pond, sure at any moment the furry beast would spy him and come to devour him as well.
As he broke through the water, the little frog was at the end of his strength. With a final desperate lunge he threw her far far away from him, pleading with her to run, to flee, to hide herself and live as he could not. This was the last bit of strength left him, and he fell into darkness and sleep.
When he awoke, the gentle lapping of the lake had pushed him to the shore, where he lay on his back among the tall grass and water weeds. And there, shining in the sky above him, was his lady love. Safe, and whole, and brilliantly beautiful. And he, silly little thing that he was, believed his final throw had put her there. He wept for joy.
His chirping cries drew attention to him, and he heard a rustling in the grass. "This is the beast." He thought. "Come to finish me off." He would have fled, but he had no strength and it didn't matter now anyway.
The tall grass parted and he saw another frog. A lady frog. And she seemed to him to be the most beautiful thing in all the world, even more beautiful than the moon. And this is as it should be.
The frogs were married, and loved each other with all the strength of their tiny brave hearts. And soon the pond was full of little tadpoles. They would gather, in the evenings, around their father to hear the tale of his journey down the river, his rescue of the great beauty, still keeping watch over the pond from above.
And they, being quite as silly as their father, believed every word of it. Though, I suppose, we cannot fault them much for that. For have we not, at some point, all believed that our own fathers truly hung the moon?