Frog on the Balcony

Ruth was one of the earliest supporters of Eight Hurricane Maria Stories from Puerto Rico, so I decided to write a story for her. She and Onofre (Ony) keep receiving visits from this strange frog on their balcony. Ruth showed it to me once. I said it was a toad (I was probably wrong). Still, I don't think it's a frog either. Sometimes this creature vanishes for weeks on end before returning to the balcony. Ruth wants to know what it does while it's away, so here is the true story of the...

FROG ON THE BALCONY

She calls me FROG. I am not FROG. I am TOAD.

How does she know of FROG? Is she one of his followers? I venture inside her head, but her mind is not surrounded by the red haze that blinds the minds of FROG's chosen ones. Within her thoughts, I can see myself as she sees me.

I am flat and wide, low to the ground, the green of new growth. Sticky toes, bulbous eyes, moist skin. Not ideal, but I have had worse forms.

“Only, did you put that FROG here? Are you trying to scare me?” she asks the windows. If I were FROG, there would be no question of her being terrified. FROG has petrified the gods themselves.

She reaches for me. I return to my own mind so I can freeze time. Yet she still moves, and I am the one frozen in place. I brace myself for impact. I cannot control time, so something is very wrong.

“Are you real?” She towers over me but does not touch. I dare not move. She stares for a moment longer, shakes her head, then walks into what must be her dwelling. I am left alone in the smaller outside; this space is separated from the great beyond by a wall of white bars. A prison of sorts? But the bars are wide enough apart for me to easily slip past. I poke my webbed toes beyond the bars. No alarms blare. No force fields fire up. Is this all a trick to lower my guard?

I decide to stay and gather information.

I learn that her name is Roof. A home's shield against dangers that rain down from the sky, Roof is not an evil name. Her life partner, the one she called for through the windows, is named Only. The Only what? I do not know, but that too is not an evil name. So how do they know of FROG, the evilest of names?

Roof asked if I was real. I hope so. She is my clearest memory. I know that a tempest, the ongoing battle between time and fear, must have brought me to this place, yet I can remember nothing about the storm. Why here? Why now? Why this inadequate body?

I must find a place to broadcast my thoughts, to commune with the heavens and to rage against the hells that hover beyond the horizons of this fragile realm. I find it near the spot where Roof first stood, a copper sconce set into the concrete wall. The climb is slow but effortless. Once I am entrenched, the cool slope of metal clears my mind. I take my time. I observe.

Many creatures pass by this spot. Most have two legs. One frequent visitor looks like Roof. Maybe this is why she is named Mirror I Am. Sometimes Roof and Mirror I Am raise their voices, but not for talking. Not for fighting either. They are playing with something that is living yet formless. Music, they call it.

I am most affected by the chicachaks and brayabrazz of the music they call salsa. Its rhythm is a black hole. If I try to find the center, I lose it. Salsa plays with rhythm the way I used to play with time. It is always at the edges as I once was: untangling the past, smoothing out the present, and fighting the fate promised by FROG.

Whenever I hear salsa, my body taps and slides against the sconce. The sound reminds me that I am no longer a master of time, yet it makes this seem like a beautiful loss. Very strange.

No longer a master of time, but I should be grateful that I can still see into the minds of others. Only and Roof come out to the smaller outside and talk about me as if I cannot hear. Only tells Roof that some distant neighbors have seen FROG. I look inside Only's head, sort past the immediate distractions to find the place that reportedly harbors FROG. I see the way, the long journey that I must make.

While extricating myself from Only's thoughts, I also see a much closer place, a treasure trove of potential, a playground of mechanical and electronic parts right behind the dwelling that he and Roof call home. I will go to this backyard first and use its metals, bolts, wires, and springs to upgrade my feeble form.

It is not without sadness that I leave behind the salsa, the sconce, and the healing hospitality of Roof. The backyard is true to Only's thoughts, yet bigger in my mind's eye. I spend two phases of the moon performing inventory, making note of the items that may aid me in the battle against FROG. If I cannot wield time against fear, then I can at least make use of these primitive pieces with precision. I use no more than I need, so Only will not notice the missing tools and parts.

Corrugated iron to cover my soft underbelly. Razor blades to turn away attacks aimed at my spine. Spring locks to launch sharpened bolts. Hydraulics to support this newfound weight. Rubber to protect my toes. When the orange moon hangs heavy in the night sky, I know I am ready. I know that I am TOAD.

I crawl onto the street to fight FROG in the faraway place. I have not traveled long before my progress is halted by the death of light. The houses and street poles are indistinguishable from the hills and trees under the faint glow of the moon.

My only warning is the red haze that comes alive in the minds trapped behind closed doors of darkened homes. These minds are caught in the dead of night. If I do nothing, these minds will be washed away by silent screams that leave no echo. They will be crushed by the singularity that is FROG.

A flexible tree, made to survive storms, sways with no wind to guide it. One of the tree's giant round fruits uncoils itself from the others, and grabs hold of a power line. I can feel it spreading in my mind. It says, “Fear Rules Over Gods. FROG. I am FROG.”

If I still had the powers of time at my command, I would not have to face FROG in this moment alone. I could overshadow the fear with what has come before and dilute it with what has yet to pass. But the past and future are lifeless to me here; their dead weight presses in on the present from all sides. FROG has paralyzed armies, destroyed worlds, corrupted gods with this weight, this absence of time.

Who am I to challenge him? I am...

“You are not TOAD.” FROG's words licks the corners of my mind. He is perched far above me, but his voice is already in my head. “You are not even real, little one.”

To prove him wrong, I climb.

FROG waits. The power line sags under his bulk.

His eyes shine like the moon, so I shoot Only's sharpened bolts into FROG's eyes. But FROG does not require eyes. He can find any heart that skips a beat.

I grasp the line with my toes and rush at FROG. His slimy skin blots out the stars, so I try to shred it with the razor blades that line my back. But FROG does not require skin. He can inhabit any doubt that interrupts a dream.

FROG does not resist. He is playing with me. As my onslaught weakens, FROG bounces with anticipation.

The power line snaps. We fall together, and my armor clanks against the stones.

FROG is already up. His tongue darts out and sticks to my chest. FROG pulls me toward him, toward the broken power line that trails sparks and swings like a pendulum between us.

I step forward, and the line barely misses me. On its return, I step back. Despite my footwork, the crackling cable comes closer and closer. I know that FROG will release his tongue and watch me fry when I'm caught in the middle.

Then, I hear it.

The hiss of electricity. The scrape of metal against the street. My ragged breathing. Even the chaotic thoughts of nearby minds caught in FROG's thrall. These sounds speak to the music that I discovered at the house of Roof. They speak to the rhythms of salsa.

Left foot forward. Right foot back. A slight pause in the middle. The sounds and steps remind me of what I am about to lose, but I hope that it will be a beautiful loss.

I grip FROG's tongue. As the power line swings back toward me, I travel to the center of salsa's black hole rhythm. I pause in the middle.

The electricity courses through me, blows off Only's backyard armor, and burns the rubber that covers my toes. Fire lances along FROG's tongue, and I lose track of him in a burst of white.

Fear is gone in a flash, and time rushes in to fill the void. There is a smoking crater where once there was FROG, so how am I still here? Did the smoking rubber on my toes reduce the shock, or did I regain my powers over time?

The red haze of FROG has retreated from the minds of this realm. Doors open and bouncing beams of light find their way onto the street. I start the slow crawl back to my refuge.

“Oh, the frog is back.” Roof leans over my sconce with the coming dawn. This word frog does not carry the harsh overtones of FROG. I think we are safe for now, until the next storm, the next showdown between fear and time.

But wherever I go, whatever form I may take, I will always know my name:

Time

Overcomes

All

Demons

I am TOAD.