There once was a little leopard frog named Isa. He was born in water, just a little tadpole amongst many eggs. As soon as Isaiah hatched he felt at one with the warm murkiness that seemed to dance with his tiny simple body. Over time the water seemed more scary than fun as monsters would attack from all sides and at any time and he mourned each time a fellow hatchling got seized. Although his body was beginning to change in the water too; soon stubs sprouting and then actual legs! Suddenly he felt like a new being and the water gained a certain ease once again. Now Isa could kick and squirm and direct much better than before and reach new zones in his pond than ever before… until a different type of monster began diving through his buffered haven like bats through the innards of the earth. These flying beasts from above were not as sharp-toothed or scaly, but they were elegant in their pursuit and had the force of the heavens behind their various wings. Isa would choke at night on his tiny frog tears as he meditated on the ethereal pink jelly that held him before his emergence into such a cruel pond.
It soon got much worse as his gills got marred with an ever-increasing bumpy mass with an emerald sheen. As he watched his legs float behind him in the pockets of light that broke their way through he barely noticed the flesh that was his own. As it spread and took over new parts of his body each hour of each day he saw brown patches atop the greens with green also at the center. Before Isa knew it he had to rely on the intriguing, yet maddening world of above just to breathe! Not only could the monsters deep below have the best aim possible, the elegant squadron of above also had the literal bird’s eye view. Just when he thought he could take no more two more lumps came to be, this time from his chest.. and in half the time that his legs developed he had spindly navigators that brilliantly enhanced the already-turbo power of his thick French-admired legs. As he glided to the top and back again with the ease and hustle of both bird and beast he started noticing that somehow his skin was an excellent cloak from the fanged enemies that struck from above and below and his millimetered heart began to beat a brighter rhythm between his two new arms.
His wriggling trail of his former water breathing youthl, once a solid thing that led his body instead of his body leading it, was shrinking bit by bit and so gradually that Isa didn’t notice until it was nearly a thing of the past. There is a reason tails are on the back and when Isa began to focus on his tail- or lack thereof- he found himself getting clumsier and more fearful. Then it occured to Isa then that a long time went by… though really it hadn’t. It seemed to him that so long went by that his sense of decreasing mobility must be due to degeneration and not growth; a failing of the body and the progression of his simple little back-and-forth life that must have been fated by crueler things than any that dwelled below or sailed above in the mysterious mossy sands. He figured they were in cahoots to make his life a troubling joke not meant for his kind. Each trip to the surface was wrought with the shame his tail was so small and the trip down a contemplation of all his tail had cost him. Each passing of dark and light was now more torturous than ever little Isa had thought possible and the finality of it all made him dream of boiling waters and his legs atop white saucers unlike any he’d known existed.
Below the water and up above lil Isa could never stop envisioning all three creatures of destruction and threat lurking, whether his bubbling imagination was to blame or not. Then one day, as the hot July sun made for a strange combination of light so bright and direct each ray seemed to pierce the apathetic stills of the pond until he could no longer find solace between the surface, the depths or even himself. It was then that Isa knew he must be done for and his tail-less body became limp, legs sprawled wide on either side of him as his urn like center floated to the top and did neither fetch air nor dive back below, he just was there, between two worlds he wished to escape.
Then, in a flash of ripple and clamor a mighty wave came upon the pond where Isa was born and all had changed- within Isa and the watery world he called home. As the salty soil become sparkles amongst a velvet background the water was no longer clear but mysterious like when he was so very young. And as the darkened things dug further into their pits and hollowed wood he remained merely within the gentle sway of the waters he had never known could move him as they did. Something great, something greater than the feathered raptors or the shadowed mouth-breathers must have done this odd and moving thing, thought Isa as he bobbed in the now sparkling pool. As he let bouncing come naturally into his being, from his mighty legs to his sturdy stance he soon noticed pink flowers atop floating lily pads and at once he was atop them as well! He now lingered in the splendor of wind and rain, the moonlight and stars or the beaming clarity of a sunny day. His new life had arrived and Isa the leopard frog, amphibian a la mode had arrived. He had never, most truly and sincerely in his most froggy-fantastically way dreamt his existence could be the wonder it had become. Isa was a happy frog and soon found another like him but with an alluring difference that enchanted his swelling froggy heart.
Her name was Ivy and she knew no bounds. Although they meant on the lily pad and shared the waters as a necessary retreat, Ivy was crazy to Isa. She would leap from lili pad to lili pad and back into the water until Isa could no longer predict her patterns and then, when she was out of sight or reach she would bound into the unknown- that dense unending horizon of greens upon ground and not a single drop of water besides the pond behind her in sight. Although Isa wanted to know about all there was to dazzle his salamander~esque tastes he dared not compromise the routines he’d found. He knew Ivy was not a bad frog, but rather a bold frog that could never listen to reason or be content with the miraculousness of her metamorphosis from fishy to frog. If only she knew, frogs were to stay in ponds… or at the very least by the lotuses and the lilies. Anything beyond the shallows of the shore were simply not for leopard frogs like me and her, he’d ponder in his pond to himself in the absence of his beloved..
Please subscribe/come back to my blog shortly for part II and thanks so much for reading! You are conduit for the holy and all that is Perfection and Peace. Just so you know. ^v^