“Good Night, Sweet Frog:” Tale Weaver/Fairy Tale 83

-font-b-Garden-b-font-font-b-ornaments-b-font-resin-crafts-simulation-font-bBeing a wayward adult, I have done an “interpretative dance” version of Michael’s intriguing prompt about being frozen in time as a ceramic frog. My personal curses would be too scary to write about.

Like all good princesses, she kissed frogs looking for Prince Right. While she looked quite cute, she thought, in flowered hip-waders, not so cute when covered in mosquito and black fly bites.

Besides, with global warming and all from too much dragon’s breath, kissable frogs were on the decline. Tours to the Rainforests offered special outings like “Find your Exotic Prince,” or “Kiss the Cutest, Rarest Frogs” that sort of thing. But she wasn’t into that – actually she was afraid of flying – she’d kiss in her part of the woods.

Then, she heard a rumour that princes were being turned into those ceramic toads and frogs used as garden ornaments. What luck she thought. No more swamp treks. At worst, a few messy backyards with kids and dogs, but mostly visits to Garden Centres. Bring a small cleaning kit, and kiss away.

For the first time in ages, she smiled a real smile – not the sort princesses are supposed to have so she had one. She could turn her Tessla – easier to sneak up on roadside frogs in an electric car – for a Lambo or a Bugatti – and zip between Home Depots and Uncle John’s Family Farm Garden Centre, kissing kit in her Kate Spade tote.

This was fun, and she began to care less if she found a prince and care more about the people she met, the beauty around her (not her own beauty). So, she bought a frog before she kissed it, and started her own collection of ceramic garden frogs. At night, the dragonflies and faeries strung lights around the frog’s necks, moved them into a circle to dance around and among. The Princess brought her lawn chair and cold white wine, and watched the merriment, sometimes joining in.

What she didn’t know is kissing a ceramic frog doesn’t release the prince. But all her ceramic frogs wore large smiles none the same.

© tale weavering phylor 2016

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a child’s view

Collage 29

I get sick a lot and dream of worlds outside

like having a friend with a magical boat

to sail to penguin land beaches

eat lunches of oatmeal cookies and giggles.

Or go to school and paint with my hands and toes

in oranges and purples, wiggle my noses

and learn how to print stories of me.

Put on my shoes, and walk to the woods

smelling the earth, feeling the sky

as owl teaches me to soar on the wind.

But mostly I’m sick and those are just

dreams I have.

a child’s view for MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Writing Prompt  177; collage 29

© taleweavering phylor 2016