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Here's hopping you don't croak

You quickly hop your way down the garden and out into the wood at the back. You never know what a witch might do to a frog.

After what seems like miles, but with legs that length who knows, you reach a lake and hop in.

Swimming, as if born to it, you take yourself to a lily pad in the middle of the water and crawl onto it to take stock of your situation.

There you are, green, slimy and small, barely three inches long. Life is definitely not being kind to you. Still, it's cleared to be a bright, sunny, and warm day, so maybe it's not so bad sitting on a lily, flicking your tongue out to catch the odd juicy fly who happened to come by.

While sitting there, you hear the sound of a young well-dressed couple laughing as they chase each other beside the water on the far side of the lake near a small boathouse.


Written by Karen Ford (with minor edits by Phaedrus)

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