Once upon a time a sad old frog haunted the shores of a dark, quiet pond. It was in
the middle of a darker forest, often shrouded in cold fog that rolled off the coast.
There was little sunlight in that small, wet world.
Often the frog would catch a glimpse of his own reflection in the water, and in turn
reflect upon how small and ugly he seemed to be. "I am worthless," he'd often whisper
to the fireflies and the lily pads, before glancing up at the night sky.
The galaxy shone bright and surreal, a million stars ruled by the moon, and he
wondered at his place in it, if he had one at all.
Then, one evening, the grass at the edge of the pond swishing and whispering in the
chill winds of Summer's end he heard the flapping of wings of a sudden. Before he
could move a huge owl had landed beside him.
Though a jolt of fear flashed through the frog there was a strange relief too...
clearly he was about to be eaten, though he was confused as to why he hadn't been
snatched up at once.
"Hello," said the owl, taking a short bow. Great yellow eyes locked gazes with the
frog, glowing in the moonlight. "I've been watching you for some time now."
The frog looked up at the feathered giant. "Aren't you going to devour me?"
"Who...you? By your own words you're far too ugly and worthless to even make a meal
of...aren't you?"
The frog felt a flash of hot anger course through his cold blood. "Do you toy with
your prey before you take them away?" he asked bitterly.
The avian cocked his head, stare suddenly vertical and the picture of quizzical. "Do
you bicker with predators before they try to kill you? You're a strange one...tell
you what, I think I want to show you something."
Before the frog could reply the owl spread his wings wide with a great whoosh and
the frog was suddenly caged within talons. After that they took flight.
Up and up and up, past the forest canopy and into the night, everything earthbound
smaller yet the lands themselves infinitely larger, until the frog believed the
two of them could touch the clouds.
He'd never seen anything so beautiful. The forest became the size of a pebble, and
moonlit mountain peaks capped in snow marched off to the south, jagged and sharp
like the jaws of a wolf. To the north the waters of the ocean made him shiver, for
beyond the coast they drowned the world east to west.
He looked up and beyond his be-taloned prison the stars shone sharp and clear,
white and bright, the haze of the galaxy's band beyond them.
And then-
The owl dropped him.
Frogs can't scream, but he croaked in shock and panic. Of a sudden, when gravity
seized him, when he saw the face of death and knew what it meant, he realized he
didn't want to die after all.
In the fifteen seconds he was in free fall his life did indeed flash before his
eyes, eyes that had beheld a world entire, and then-
The owl caught him.
-
They landed on the shore of the small pond, the owl dumping him unharmed into a
patch of mud and water cress.
"I don't eat frogs," the owl said. "Some say beauty is what you can behold, yet if
you can never see the whole picture how do you ever know?" With that he rose up into
the night, never to be seen by the frog again.
-
The leaves turned to brilliant crimson and glowing gold, and the waters of the pond
grew still and cold. It was almost time for the long sleep until Spring. The frog
knew not what he would dream of, only that it wouldn't be of the end.