The Little Frog and the Deep Well

On the soft, muddy edge of a vast swamp lived a family of frogs, each plump and green, croaking songs under the moonlight. Among them was a tiny frog, the youngest and smallest, who often listened wide-eyed as Grandma Frog shared stories of the world beyond their swamp. She spoke of the dangers lurking outside: the dry, cracking ground that hurt frog feet, the harsh winds, the strange, towering creatures that stomped about, and worst of all, monsters that hunted frogs for their supper.

To Grandma Frog, the swamp was the safest place, warm and full of plump insects to feast on, with water that kissed their skin gently under the sun. But to the Little Frog, these stories stirred curiosity like ripples in still water. His small heart longed to see what lay beyond the reeds.

One bright morning, while the swamp glistened with dew, the Little Frog decided it was time to discover the truth for himself. He hopped over mossy logs and slipped through the cattails, leaving behind the chorus of croaks. The Meadow beyond was not as dry as he had imagined, for rain had visited recently, leaving puddles and soft grass. There, he found beetles with shiny shells and flies that buzzed in delightful patterns, tasting new and exciting compared to the swamp’s usual fare.

As he ventured further, he came across a strange, tall Wall near the edge of a thick Forest. The Wall was rough beneath his tiny toes, but he felt an urge to climb it. With many hops and slips, the Little Frog finally made it to the top, and there, he was met with a view that took his breath away. The swamp he had left behind looked small, and the Meadow stretched wide under a sky that seemed to go on forever. In the distance, he saw blue-grey Mountains rising like silent guardians, though he did not know their name.

Turning around in his excitement, he noticed something that made his little heart leap – a Well, deep and dark, with a scent of damp earth that reminded him of home. It looked like a place of safety, a perfect hiding spot from the loud screech that suddenly pierced the air above him. Unaware of the Owl swooping low, he only felt fear telling him to hide.

Without a second thought, the Little Frog leapt into the Well. Down and down he fell, hitting the hard stones and scraping his soft skin, until he splashed into cool, still water. Pain throbbed through his tiny body, but relief washed over him as he floated in the darkness. He found a small ledge to sit on, and in defiance of the fear that had chased him, he began to sing. His voice echoed through the stone walls, singing of the sky, the Meadow, and his bravery.

But when the night came, the shadows grew heavy around him, and loneliness crept into his heart. The Little Frog called for help, his small voice barely rising above the whisper of the water, but no one came. Day turned to night, and night into another day, until time became a blur, for frogs cannot count the passing days.

At last, Mother Frog and Father Frog, missing their curious child, began searching for him. They followed the faint echoes of his croak, reaching the edge of the Well. Using long strands of grass and reeds, they carefully lowered a rope to pull him out. When the Little Frog felt the touch of the rope, hope sparked in his heart, and with effort, he was lifted back into the light.

That evening, the family gathered around the Little Frog as he shared the story of his adventure, his voice proud yet touched with the memory of fear. The swamp felt smaller now, though safe and warm, and the Little Frog could not forget the taste of the Meadow’s air or the shadow of the Mountains on the horizon.

Time passed, and the Little Frog often returned to the Wall, peering into the depths of the Well. It felt like a piece of him was still there, in the cool darkness where he had learned both bravery and fear. Though the family began to avoid him for his strange habit of staring into the Well, he found comfort in its depths, dreaming of the day he might leap in again.

And so, when a young Princess came by with her golden ball, dropping it into the Well, the Little Frog found his chance. He dove in without hesitation, retrieving the ball for her. This time, he discovered he had grown strong enough to leap out of the Well on his own, proud of his courage and strength.

As the stories say, the Princess and the Frog went on to share many adventures, and in time, he became a Prince. Yet, even as a Prince, he would often stand by the Well, gazing into its depths, remembering the place where he first found courage.