Little Frog and the Magic Flower

by Bella Parham

“Over there!”

“No Mom, I can’t,” Little Frog said as he perched on the top of the rock that looked over the land, past the tall trees, to the river. 

“C’mon Little Frog, you’ve done it before. Look how close it is,” said Little Frogs mom as she hopped from the rock, back down to the creek. 

Little Frog was the youngest of 6, 2 brothers, 3 sisters. His parents were older, wiser, and often, less empathetic to the anxiety Little Frog had about venturing outside of their creek, to a neighboring river that homed most of frog communities around them. Today, Little Frogs mom was determined to take the whole family to the river for the celebration of spring. At the start of spring, every year, all the frogs and other wildlife at the river would come together to celebrate the new life and beauty blossoming around them. This was the first year that Little Frog was able to attend, however had always preferred to not go. The river was past a forest of tall trees, big animals, and dark shadows. A couple years prior, Little Frogs whole family decided to take a trip on a hot summer's day to visit another creek. Though it was closeby, the only way to get there was through this forest. This was the first time Little Frog had left his creek and he was excited to see what was beyond it. Due to his easy ability to be distracted by his surroundings, Little Frog became mesmerized by a deer he saw in the distance. This resulted in him losing his family for quite some time, hiding next to a willow tree until dark, and eventually his brothers needing to rescue. He hasn’t left the creek since. 

After pointless convincing, his mother finally gave up and the family went off to the river, leaving Little Frog alone. It was a beautiful spring day. The butterflies fluttering around the creek, the leaves from the surrounding trees brushing against each other to make the sound of a gentle whisper, and the fresh water, how clear it looked. As Little Frog swam around his creek somberly, his eye caught a beautiful pale pink flower. He had never seen a flower so beautiful let alone near his home. He hopped out quickly, racing over to this beautiful flower. It was perfect, he was in love with this flower, this perfect, pale pink flower. 

That whole day, Little Frog sat by his flower. He talked to her, he brought her rocks and worms and fallen tree bark. He laid his gifts for her around her stem, making sure never to let them touch her. He sat beside her until sunset when his family came home. He hadn’t realized that the whole day had passed. He just noticed the way the soft sun hit her petals and how her leaves seemed to stand as tall as the highest trees. His brothers raced back into the creek, his sisters following, and shortly after, his parents. He slowly hopped away from his flower, looking back longingly, reminiscing on the day they had. He didn’t want his family to know about his flower, he knew this was his love and he would protect her and keep her his. He woke up at the crack of dawn to watch his flower as she entered the sunlight. 

This continued for many months. Little Frog spent his days tending, talking to, and looking at his flower. He was hesitant to give her a name as he felt nothing could capture her beauty in words. Instead he called her Magic Flower as to him, she was magic. The way her stem stood so steadily, but was ever so delicate, how her petals reflected joy and love, and how his days seemed brighter whenever he was with her. She didn’t talk, she rarely moved, she just was, and to him, she was perfect.

Summer was over now. Little Frog had spent every second of every day with Magic Flower from the beginning of spring, to the end of summer. He could never get tired of her or stop looking at her. Each morning he had something new to tell her and each night as he left her to go back to his home, he envisioned what the next day would hold for them.

 On this day, Little Frog left Magic Flower. It started getting cooler as fall was quickly approaching. The sun wasn’t so soft, and the leaves weren’t so full. He was back in his creek sleeping, dreaming of his next day with Magic Flower. Again, he woke up at the crack of dawn. He gathered rocks and a beautiful fallen bird feather. He hopped over to Magic Flower. There he was met with her standing stem, surrounded by her beautiful, pale pink petals. Little Frog cried. “Oh my beautiful Magic Flower, where have you gone?” His tears streamed down his little green body, now shaking from the overwhelming pain he was feeling. “How can I fix this? How can I bring you back?” He was desperate, desperate to find any hope of seeing his love once again. He stood there for hours, crying, questioning, screaming, crying more. Eventually, he had given up. Another cold, lonely night approached him and he was left to deal with this pain on his own. He slowly hopped away from the remains of his beautiful Magic Flower. He turned around once more to remember the countless hours and days he sat right next to her, where her petals lay now, planning their life together. A life he knew he could no longer have. He stayed up that night, looking at the stars, still crying, still questioning. He finally closed his eyes, dreaming again of his beautiful love. 

Goodbye Magic Flower, until next spring.