A Tale of a Frog
I’m a frog, who lives in a deep, dark well, never having a chance to see what’s out there. When bored, I raise my head and gaze upon the azure sky above, or stare at the moss-cloaked walls that trap me in this well. Everything seems so common to me, as I assume the sky – suspended thousands of kilometers above – lies forever beyond reach.
But one day, something trivial yet transformative occurs. As I gaze upward as usual, an eagle — a brave, free eagle — pats its wide-stretched wings against the heavens, diving into cloud oceans.
The eagle’s rhythmic beats stir ripples I’ve never felt in my chest. Something awakens deep inside my mind — a perspective, to be precise. I realize the sky isn’t so distant from me. In other words, perhaps I can touch it, just as the eagle does.
Well, you can imagine what happens next. I leap with all my might, yet fail for quite a few attempts. I pause, and contemplate. The sky remains distant, and I’m still trapped in this well. However, during these attempts, I spot a silver lining — the well’s rim slices the sky apart from the damp walls, which means I can aim for the rim instead of the sky.
Perhaps you’re curious about why I’m so desirous to go out. Well, I don’t know the exact reason, but I’m clear about one thing — I was once so accustomed to this deep, dark well that I’d never thought of getting out. But now, it’s different. I crave for the unseen. The eagle makes me realize that there’s far more beyond the azure sky out there.
Through countless leaps and stumbles, I finally soar beyond the rim that once caged my sky. What unfolds before me sends a tempest surging through my heart. Mountains pierce the horizon, fields stretch into infinity — a world no story whispered in the well has illustrated. Yet in this tempest, a silent clarity dawns: the well is never my entire story — it’s just the prologue.
As the world emerges before me, a wilderness of possibilities unfurls in my heart. I can set out on a journey: not as a survivor, but as an explorer; not as a struggler, but as a wanderer. I want to bask on a lily pad with wings of a dragonfly brushing my back. I want to dance in the current, a school of fish swirling around me. I want to taste morning dew jeweled with sunlight. I want to appreciate the sunset casting its radiant glow over the pond. I want to do anything, anything but stay in the deep, dark well.
Then it happens. One day, our paths converge — a little girl wanders into my story. She cradles me gently in her cupped hands, presents me with a feather-like caress, and looks into me with eyes as clear as mountain springs. Before I figure out why this sudden tenderness binds her to me, she whispers a vow to guard my journey until its finale. I accept with a leap of joy – not because of her promise, but because she’s the first to connect with me in this fragmented world.
Undeniably, the ordinary with her is the extraordinary itself. We chase butterflies through sunlit grass, count stars scattered across the curtain of night, or merely sit by the lake, whose surface mirrors our twin reflections. Sometimes, she spills her hidden murmurs into my patient silence — and in these moments, I see her growing, a bud of innocence blossoming into quiet resilience. And I? I grow too, my heart learning to cradle the threads woven between our souls.
One day, I tell her, “I want to see the world beyond.”
She hesitates for a second, gathers up her courage, and says, “If it’s your wish, then it’s mine as well.”
That morning, the sun pours brilliant light on the path, serving as a blessing for our journey. Little do we know, the path forward will lead us across oceans that sing of forgotten shipwrecks, through deserts where sand tells odysseys of ancient travelers, and into forests where trees carve sagas into their wrinkled bark. The rhythm of raindrops whispers prophecies only audible to those who brave the challenges. The glow of fireflies map constellations only visible to those who dare to venture. Through the journey, I learn that “voyage” is not a distance, but a prism — one that fractures the well’s narrow sky into a thousand fragments of storms, waves, auroras, and glaciers.
Decades later, after I get through adventures and voyages, experience odysseys and sagas, I return to my well. But this time, I don’t stay in there any longer. I just stare into the bottom for a few minutes, pace away, and see it dissolving into the horizon’s embrace, along with my past, my memories, and a tear-adorned smile.
“An original tale of metamorphosis by Mr. Jackpot
— Written for my 18th birthday, when the well’s walls first trembled.”