Adelaide and the Wish of Wings: A Fable of True Beauty

In a towering high-rise on the edge of a bustling city, lived a young girl named Adelaide. Her parents, who were always managing their investments and attending business calls, had named her “Adelaide” after learning that “laid” meant “ugly” in French. They had joked about it, but for Adelaide, the name felt like a curse. Her reflection in the mirror only deepened her sorrow: a crooked nose, small eyes, and a mouth that never seemed to smile back.

To cope, Adelaide spent hours taking selfies and editing them until she looked like the girl she wished she could be—beautiful, bright-eyed, and confident. But the moment she put her phone down, reality pressed heavily upon her, reminding her of the loneliness that echoed in the corridors of their modern apartment. Her parents were too busy for her, her phone too silent, and her weekends too empty.

There was, however, one place where Adelaide’s heart felt light: the family’s summer trips to an ancient château nestled in the rolling hills of Limousin. Their small timeshare apartment overlooked lush lawns, a glassy lake, and groves where the scent of cèpes and the soft hum of bees filled the warm air. It was here that Adelaide found her haven—a place where the sun rose gently through wooden shutters, and the mornings were filled with bird songs and the croaking of frogs near the lake.

One such morning, as the golden dawn spilled across the lawns, Adelaide wandered down to the lakeside to visit her favorite frog. This large, green frog with bright, intelligent eyes always hopped to the shore when she arrived, keeping her company as she nibbled on local bread and goat cheese while watching dragonflies skim across the water.

“Oh, I wish I could be like you, beautiful butterfly,” she whispered to a yellow-and-black swallowtail resting on a reed, “free to fly wherever I want, beautiful and happy forever.”

Little did Adelaide know, her wish was heard. For the frog by her side was not an ordinary frog but her fairy godmother, enjoying a well-deserved break from city life where she spent most days disguised as a neighbor’s yappy Schnauzer.

“No sooner said than done!” croaked the frog.

In an instant, Adelaide found herself whisked into the air, light as a feather, her arms transforming into delicate wings. Panic rose in her as she plummeted toward the water before a gust of breeze caught her, lifting her into the sky.

“I’m flying!” she tried to shout, but all that came out was the delicate vibration of a butterfly’s proboscis.

Below, the bewildered butterfly that was now in Adelaide’s human body staggered around before fainting on the grass.

Adelaide, thrilled by the newfound freedom, rode the breeze, flitting past flowers and sunlight-drenched leaves, until she reached the château window where her mother was folding bedsheets. Eagerly, Adelaide tried to call out, but her mother only saw a butterfly flailing against the glass.

“Silly thing,” her mother muttered, opening the window to let her out, unknowingly blowing Adelaide back into the warm air.

Adelaide awoke on the grass, thinking it had all been a dream, but the frog watched her with knowing eyes. Adelaide sighed, remembering the feeling of flying and the freedom it brought.

“If only I could be a dragonfly next,” she thought, “so fast, so beautiful.”

Before the thought could leave her mind, she was in the air again, this time in the vivid, shimmering body of a scarlet dragonfly, her wings catching the morning light in flashes of green and gold. She darted joyfully across the lake, unaware of the large shadow moving silently across the water’s edge.

A heron, with its keen eyes fixed on Adelaide, crept closer.

The frog, leaping onto the twitching human body now inhabited by a confused dragonfly mind, urged it to move.

“Get up! Wave your arms! Do something!” croaked the frog, knowing the heron’s beak was seconds away from striking.

With great effort, the dragonfly-mind willed Adelaide’s human arms to flail wildly in the air, startling the heron enough for it to retreat.

Once more, Adelaide awoke, standing awkwardly on the shore, her arms still raised, as the frog sighed in relief.

“Oh, if only I could sing like that blackbird,” Adelaide thought as a blackbird sang sweetly from the chestnut tree, “and fly from tree to tree, I would finally be happy.”

The fairy godmother frog sighed, knowing it was Adelaide’s final wish.

With a shimmer, Adelaide’s spirit entered the blackbird, and she found herself perched high in the tree, her new wings ready to take flight. She sang, and the melody that escaped her beak was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. But as she hopped joyfully across branches, she felt a new, sharp hunger and thought of worms beneath the grass.

She swooped down, searching for breakfast, but in her innocence, she did not notice the ginger château cat slinking toward her through the daisies.

The real blackbird, now in Adelaide’s human body, quickly understood the danger. “Leave it to me,” it chirped to the frog, and with Adelaide’s human limbs, charged at the cat, screaming and waving arms. The cat, startled, leaped into the air just as the cosmic spell snapped, and Adelaide and the blackbird returned to their rightful bodies.

Adelaide, still shaking, saw the cat with her precious blackbird in its jaws. With a yell, she lunged forward, grabbed the cat’s tail, and yanked it hard, forcing it to drop the trembling bird. Furious, the cat hissed and scratched her arms, but Adelaide hurled it away, sending it splashing into the lake.

As Adelaide sat panting on the grass, the frog transformed into a gentle, elderly woman in a green and brown dress, introducing herself as Mme. Grenouille.

“My dear,” she said softly, “there is more beauty in a brave and kind heart than in wings or feathers. You were willing to fight for another’s life without thinking of your own. That is the beauty that matters.”

Adelaide looked into the lake, seeing her reflection with new eyes. Her face, though unchanged, shone with a light she had never seen before.

“When you return next summer, look for the frog by the lake,” Mme. Grenouille smiled. “Give him a big, big kiss. That’s all I’ll say.”

Moral of the Story:

True beauty lies in bravery and kindness, not in appearance. Freedom and happiness are found in embracing who you are and standing up for others.