The Adventures of Jethro, the Frog

[The following story is fictional and does not depict any actual frog or event.]

One dream he had almost woke him it felt so real. It was a beautiful summer day, he'd been hopping about investigating, exploring, looking for treasure, when he heard a violent commotion nearby, brush rattling and strange muffled sounds. Spotting a hole gouged into the base of a large oak, he scurried in, dragging twigs across its opening to conceal himself. The crash of struggling grew closer, he held his breath and closed his eyes. He knew closing his eyes wouldn't help, but he didn't want to turn to face the back of the hole either. In fact, now that he was dug in, covered with old moldy leaves and twigs from last fall, he'd rather not move at all. Besides, whatever was making the horrible noise would soon be upon him and he needed to be ready to jump if necessary. But only if absolutely imperative. He was nobody's hero and didn't wish to be. He had no desire to impress anyone, leave that to the bullfrogs.

A mad flapping of wings and rush of air stirred his cover, mixed in with a shrill strained screeching and tight throaty sounds, deeper in tone. Two creatures of indeterminate type fought a life and death battle within inches of his hideaway. Jethro clamped his eyes shut tighter, if possible. Suddenly, he heard rapid footfalls and then more fluttering going away. Momentarily, all was silent. Still, he didn't move or open his eyes. He waited, they might come back, he thought. He started to stiffen-up, the beginnings of a cramp in his right leg. He listened intently. All he heard was the gentle rush of a breeze blowing by. Opening one eye, he peered through a narrow space in his covering. Nothing. Then the other eye. He had to move, to stretch. With a burst of will power, he pushed his way out, studying the terrain of trees and brush, straining to see into the tall grass.

*************

A few moments later, the mother abruptly stood erect. Jethro thought he'd given his cover away and held his breath. But she looked off in the other direction, towards the opposite side of the pond, her pointy ears shifting position on their own. She sniffed, looked, and listened, her two young ones continuing to drink, oblivious of any danger. Jethro heard a crashing sound and then saw the brush on the other side shake and part as though something large pushed its way through. With that, the doe made a muffled sound, then turned to run, her two children hot on her heels. They quickly vanished up the hill, melding to invisibility in the trees.

Jethro was lost in fascination as a huge bear poked its head out of the surrounding growth on the opposite bank. He didn't even bother to look around, just put his enormous head down to drink. If I was that big, Jethro thought, I wouldn't be afraid of anybody either. Knowing for certain that a bear couldn't care less about a frog, he relaxed but stayed put. He liked this new game -- the spy. He casually lashed his tongue out at a few passing insects -- denomination unknown -- and savored the warming day as the sun rose higher in the sky. Suddenly, he heard a tiny voice off to his left. It seemed very close.

"Hello, there, frog," it said, "why are you hiding?"

Nervous but refusing to show fear, especially at such a small voice, he turned. There confronting him was a winged creature about six inches tall dressed in white shimmering clothing hovering in the air. He'd heard of such creatures through stories the grown-ups told one another late at night when they thought the children were asleep. But he'd always thought they were just making them up to scare one another, as they sometimes do. Not so, apparently.

"Well?" the little one persisted, continuing to flap vigorously. "Are you hiding from someone? Playing a game, are you?"

Finding his voice, he said, "No, I'm not playing a game." Pushing himself up to her level, he continued with all seriousness, making a show of whispering, "I'm a spy."

"Ohhhh, a spy you are?" She smiled and winked, then very daintily flew down to sit on a flat moss-covered stone several inches away. "And just who are you spying on, and why?" she asked, while smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress.

Jethro thought quickly. He could never lie to his mother when she'd question him about some trouble he'd gotten into, but this was different. He was being interrogated by a total stranger who might be up to something. But it was too exhausting trying to think of a story, so he just said, "I was spying on a bullfrog who,..." and then stopped, his voice running out of air. He couldn't think of a reason. He wasn't very good at this lying stuff, he had to admit. But he'd already said he was spying so he had to think of something and plenty quick.

He blurted out, "The bullfrog I was watching likes to push the smaller ones around and the parents complained to the elders about it so they asked me to spy for them to see who it is. He must be stopped." He spoke that last word with determination, hitting the ground hard with his foot. He believed in what he was doing, or rather had to appear that way; he was committed. It was hard work -- lying -- the fun was going out of the game already.

Convincing as he'd thought he'd been, however, the little faery smiled even more broadly at this telling. Jethro wished she would go away but didn't want to be rude. He turned back towards the pond to continue doing his job, but he couldn't relax; he felt her eyes on him. The only way he could get back into enjoying himself was to forget all about her, so he tried. He furrowed his brow and concentrated hard on pretending she'd flown away. It was beginning to work when of a sudden she said, "My name is Melinda, but most folks call me Linda or Mel. You can call me whichever you wish."

Jethro let out a long breath. He hardly ever felt annoyed at anyone, preferring to simply ignore people who bothered him; but she was starting to get on his nerves. He turned her way once again to say something, as politely as possible, that would make her go away when right behind her he saw a ferret reared up on his hind legs about to pounce.

His eyes widened; she saw. Before he could shout an alarm, she flew up to her left, spinning as she did so, and just as the ferret jumped, she threw sparkly dust or tiny pieces of shell or something like that at the ferret who immediately vanished into thin air. Jethro was stunned, to say the least. But Melinda simply composed herself, then smoothly flew back to her perch, once again pressing the wrinkles out of her dress as though nothing very important had just occurred. If Jethro had been able to move he would've hopped home, but all he could do was stare. She, of course, only smiled back, trying to dispel his disquiet, as she saw it. But from his point-of-view, he was disoriented and mystified by what he'd seen; things about him -- the tall grass, the blue sky, the earth under his feet -- seemed to whirl and mush together. Fearing he might pass-out at any moment, he forced himself to speak, or rather, stammer, "What was that?"

She raised her head to smile demurely, feigning innocence. "What was what?" she asked as though genuinely unsure what he meant.

"That,..., that stuff you threw; the ferret,..., disappeared. How did you do that? And where did he go?"

She peered off, thoughtful, considering the most accurate choice of words, either to reveal or conceal. Her choice. She faced Jethro and said simply, "Magic." Followed by, "I don't know."

Jethro felt queezy, the moment s m e a r e d out before him like thin ice on the pond. He wasn't quite certain how to take it. In fact, he had no idea at all how to take it. He'd heard of magic, sure, everybody has, but to actually see it work right in front of him. He wasn't really prepared to accept it. He wasn't a scoffer like so many grown-ups, pushing the very idea aside with a derisive laugh, accusing anyone who believed in such nonsense crazy and worse. He was open to anything, or at least that's how he saw himself. And he wasn't afraid; again, how he saw himself. But this morning was happening so quickly. A fight, a faery and now this,..., magic.

Melinda understood. Vibrating her four wings to a dangerous-sounding pitch, she drew his attention back to the real physical world about them. "You haven't told me your name, young frog."

"Jethro," he replied quietly, his throat dry. "My name is Jethro, and I live not far from here." Pausing while his heart slowed -- a trick all frogs know -- he then asked, "Do you live around here? I've never seen you before."

"Why yes," she said, "my whole family, my mother and father and three sisters. We moved from up north. Too cold, my mother complained. So, here we are. It's nice."

"Three sisters? Boy, I only have one and that's too much."

Melinda stood to walk towards a dandelion. Peering up at its plumage folded in the shade of the bower, her wings hanging by her sides, she asked, "If you're not too busy later on, would you like to come home with me? Meet my family?"

Jethro felt confused and a little stunned. They'd only just met; should she be so trusting? Or should he? he almost laughed. She's the one who can make someone vanish into thin air. Most of his friends were frogs, but he did know a couple of squirrels, a chipmunk and a bushbird, or maybe it was three bushbirds? They moved so fast it was hard to tell. His best friend was a turtle named Knuckles. That was his nickname; he refused to tell his real name, embarrassed it seemed. He had the habit of walking around on his knuckles in order to appear taller, hence the name. They spent a lot of time together just sitting around by the pond catching flies and talking about stuff.

Having a faery for a friend, Jethro thought, someone who could do magic, that might be fun. Besides, after what she did to that ferret, it wouldn't be a bad idea to have her on his side. "Sure," he finally said. "How 'bout now?"

She smiled at the ground and said, "Well, I thought you were on a mission -- spying?"

He looked down quickly. "I could take a break," he said, in a serious tone. "I've been doing this all morning, you know," trying to look world-weary, his best shot. "It gets tiresome."

"Well then, let's go." And without further ado, she began to skip-fly across the tops of the grass. Jethro hopped behind, trying to keep up. They left the security of the pond and ventured deeper into the dense woods. This made going a little tough for him, but he managed, never complaining, wanting to make a good impression. Strange noises filled the air, but most he was familiar with. Just as he heard a particularly loud squeal that startled him, they came upon a large oak. Partway up he could see a hollow about a foot wide. Melinda flew up to it and went inside, disappearing from sight. He waited, a little concerned, peering around in all directions, trying to collect his bearings. He could still smell the pond, so he relaxed. She poked her head out and waved him up. With a solid jump on his strong young legs, he landed on the lip of the hole. Inside he could see light coming from somehwere he knew not. She smiled reassuringly then turned to walk inward. He followed, a bit shyly but with purpose. No time to show timidity, he thought.

Immediately in front of him he abruptly noticed a bluish-yellow shimmering, a disturbance like when a fish would jump out of the water and dive back in, something they did for fun, he knew. She passed through it and so he did as well, he was committed. The hollow opened up to a bright colorful vista going out every which way as far as he could see. He stopped dead in his tracks, amazed. A waterfall and steep cliffs widened out to the horizon, fading from view; strangely-shaped trees and brush sprung up all about; a brook meandered through the center suddenly ending off to the side as though finding a deeper path beneath the ground.

Nearby he saw a stick-framed house encircling a most mysterious tree, its smooth bark glistened and seemed to breathe, moving in and out, looking healthy and strong. On the house porch he made out two other faeries who suddenly ceased their conversation and stared at them for a moment, then waved energetically and flew down, landing cautiously some distance away. It's because of me, thought Jethro, pleased at their reticence in spite of himself.

Melinda flew to them, and while hovering quickly introduced him. "Jethro, I'd like you to meet my sisters, Olivia and Dusty. Dusty's not her real name but that's what we call her." They smiled demurely then glanced furtively at Melinda. Jethro had seen this look before. He was a frog and most woods folks didn't fraternize with frogs. Being faeries, however, they couldn't help but see his crestfallen look. Immediately they surrounded him and started chittering away. "Come Jethro," they seemed to say at once in a sing-song way. "Come into our land. We were about to go to the Black Forest on the other side of the stream for an afternoon, a picnic with tea and cookies and cheeses and all the best. Come along, why don't you?"

Jethro smiled from ear to ear and even hopped a bit in place, forgoing his care-worn gravity for the moment. All about in the trees and under bushes he could see others going through their morning rituals, some laying about in the sun, others huddled over tiny bowls, nibbling and chewing, still more further afield, little ones mostly, already out vigorously playing some tagging game, squealing and laughing. No one was working at chores as far as he could tell.

"Where's Rebecca?" asked Melinda. "Is she awake yet? After last night, I have my doubts."

Her sisters glanced at one another, then broke into laughter. "She never came home," one volunteered, a devilish look in her wide green eyes. "Her sprite tempted her with all manner of diversions, not the least of which was he himself." Then they all broke into laughter.

"But what of mother, what does she think?"

They looked more serious at that, almost fearful. "You know," Dusty said. "Mother approves but disaproves, all at the same time. It's hard to fathom. Stories abound but, Rebecca is the oldest after all. Soon she may marry."

"She better," commented Olivia. "Father is angry. He says he will talk to this Jasper fellow before the day is out. And I think this time he means it."

Others came over and Melinda made introductions while her sisters darted up to the house to gather things for the picnic. A friendly group, they treated Jethro with courtesy and kindness, asking him questions about himself and his life by the pond. He was surprised to discover that they'd been living in their magical world since he'd been a tadpole; he wondered how he managed to have never seen them before. But, smiling good-naturedly, they assured him that they'd seen him. He was a little embrrassed at this news, trying to remember the many compromising situations, and positions, he had gotten into over the years, not many to be sure, but to him it was a lifetime.

To Be Continued...