The fall Flash Fiction contest, with the theme “Frogs” was held on Sept. 28. Over the next few weeks, this paper will run the winning entries. Below is the Past President’s award winner. To read all the winners, go to: fremontculturalartscouncil.org.
The Frog
It was about midmorning when the group of friends met at the golf course over Pine Mountain Lake. It was a dream made real for the retired men living up there.
The seniors took their sense of humor along with the heavy golf clubs hanging on their backs. They had a great time joking and teasing each other: They knew the curative power of “laughter;” they used it as a therapy.
Greg was one of the golfers, but because of his resemblance to a frog, his dear friends called him Kermit for the Sesame Street puppet frog. “Kermit” and my in-law John had been very close friends for years.
On one of those mornings when the group of happy friends was about to strike the first ball, something dramatic changed their mood forever; the witty and funny Kermit collapsed on the green, just in front of his friends.
A massive heart attack: He died on the way to the hospital. John was destroyed; he was not able to come back to the golf course for a long time, with depression.
A few weeks after the incident was John Baker’s birthday. He was resting on his back porch in front of the golf course, playing with his memories, when a tiny green frog jumped over the porch’s hand rail in front of him. They never had a visit of this kind of amphibian on the porch before! How could this frog jump up there? John and wife Jaquie tried to push it down several times, but the stubborn jumper was coming back to the spot.
John was perplexed; he became quiet and serious, and in a soft voice he started talking to the frog. What was he doing? Could John accept and recognize his dear friend Kermit’s “spirit” inside of that shiny little frog? The words of affection from the friend seemed to work in controlling the jumper. He carefully put it down that time. The strange frog went away and disappeared under the bushes.
When Jaquie came out to offer him a drink, she looked for the frog, wondering. John did not answer, but sipped his drink, smiling.
No “magic” was involved in the story, but whatever kind of communication happened between the man and the frog nobody knows. After the frog episode, John was a new man: He was relaxed, and free of anxiety.
I wonder: Do we have our own frog hiding somewhere? Could it be around us, but we don’t recognize it? Let us think about that…
