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  A Kiss To Break the Spell: The Frog Prince Retold

  A Kiss to Break the Spell: The Frog Prince Retold

  © 2017 Adelle Summers

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 1

  The frog waited silent and still, keeping his eyes fixed on a fly as it buzzed overhead. His patience paid off when the fly landed on a nearby frond. The frog flicked out his tongue and in the next instant the fly was making its way to the frog’s stomach. That one was particularly succulent, thought the frog. It was a perfect ending to an evening of fly catching.

  With the sun nearly set and his belly full, the frog swam to his favorite rock to soak up the last rays of the sinking sun. He closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh. His was a simple life, and that was how he liked it. Everything was perfect, or it would have been were it not for the strange feeling he got every evening. Just as the sun sank below the horizon, he felt a strange pull to leave the pond that he called home. It had been this way ever since he could remember, and he had long ago stopped trying to resist.

  He began his nightly journey up the creek. He swam against the current, but he was a very, very large frog, and his powerful legs were no match for the current’s pull. When the creek became too shallow for him to swim, he hopped. He didn’t like being out of the water, visible and exposed, but as long as he kept among the reeds, everything would be ok. That is what he told himself each night.

  The moon was out by the time he reached his destination, the stretch of creek that ran through the human village. It was a small, sleepy town, and by the time the frog arrived each night most of the residents had already retired to their homes. There was only the occasional straggler coming home late from the fields to be seen on the streets.

  A few of the cottages sported windows illuminated by candlelight from within. Slim plumes of smoke holding the scent of evening supper rose from the chimneys poking out of thatched roofs. Every so often the breeze would carry a melody. When the day’s work was done, a few of the villagers liked to celebrate a job well done with a song.

  The frog didn’t know why he came here each night. He hated the smell of whatever it was that the humans ate. It was bugs, fish and other wild things that he enjoyed. Furthermore, there was always the unpleasant possibility that he would be spotted. Were he a cat or a small dog, he would be considered averaged sized for his species, but for a frog he was unusually large, and if he happened to be seen he would be certain to cause some concern if not outright panic. And as for the music, the frog could certainly live without it. He was a frog, after all, and frogs have no use for songs. At least that is what he told himself. Still, night after night he came back.

  As the frog nestled in among the reeds, a melody plucked from the strings of a lute began to emanate from one of the lighted windows. It was gentle and sad, rising and falling like an ocean tide. The frog was transfixed. The notes captivated him, and though he could no longer remember the reason, for that brief moment it seemed to the frog that it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be here, listening to a human song.

  While the music played, the frog could hear nothing else. His keen ears would normally have picked up the footsteps behind him, and his fast reflexes would have dodged the rock that came hurling towards him. Instead, it bounced off the slimy skin on his back, stinging where it hit. The frog dashed away, moving as fast as he could towards the safety of his pond.

  “I told you it was big,” said a voice behind him.

  “It isn’t just big, it’s enormous!” said another voice, sounding closer this time. “Come on, we can catch him!”

  The two boys gave chase to the frog, who was hopping as fast as his frog legs would carry him. He reached the deep part of the stream just as they were upon him. He swam with the current now, powerful strokes from webbed hind legs pushing him even faster. He could hear the sound of his pursuers’ footfalls fading fainter and fainter.

  The frog reached his pond and sunk to the safety of the deepest water. All of this, thought the frog, was because I foolishly ventured too close to the human village. If only he had stayed where he should have been, this wouldn’t have happened. He tried his best to remember what had made going to the human village seem like such a good idea, but came up with nothing. The melody that had captivated him so completely just a moment ago was already forgotten. Burned into his memory, however, was the sting of the stone hitting his skin. He vowed right then and there to never go back. The thought comforted him somewhat, and he remained hidden in the depths throughout the night. It wasn’t until the light of morning crept across the pond that he dared to venture back towards the shore.

  He pulled himself onto his favorite rock and let the warm rays of the sun hit his back. He was still shaken from the night before, but the sun began to calm him. The frog closed his eyes and breathed deeply. This is my life, the frog told himself. It’s what I am, and I’m where I belong.

  The frog opened his eyes just in time to see a large sack coming down on top of him.

  CHAPTER 2

  The frog struggled and kicked, trying to free himself.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” said a voice. It was a women’s voice, which told him that his captor was not one of the two boys who had chased him last night. Not that it mattered much. Humans were all pretty much the same to the frog, and ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ is exactly what they all said right before they took you home to have frog legs for dinner.

  The frog thrashed and kicked as hard as he could, but it was no use. He struggled in the darkness of the sack until exhaustion forced him to catch his breath.

  “Are you finished?” said the voice.

  The frog held completely still. Maybe if this human thought he was dead she would open the sack and he could make his escape. He wished he had thought of this earlier and had saved his strength. Still, when his chance came, he resolved that he would find the strength he needed.

  A tiny window of light appeared above him. His captor was taking the bait. It wasn’t yet big enough for his whole body to fit through. He needed to be patient. The hole grew larger as his captor worked to open the drawstrings that held the sack shut. It grew larger still, nearly large enough. The frog could no longer help himself and flung forward with all his remaining strength towards the light. For a moment, he thought it might work. His head popped out of the sack, but before the rest of him could follow his captor drew the strings tight again, cinching him around the neck.

  The frog’s captor held up the frog so that she could look him in the eye. She had a peculiar look on her face, a mix between disgust and determination.

  “I’m very sorry about this,” she said.

  She brought him closer to her face, and the frog, thinking he was about to be eaten raw, began to panic, squirming and kicking his hind legs. But she didn’t take a bite out of him as he feared. She kissed him.

  At the touch of her lips the frog froze. At that exact moment a strange feeling came over him. He felt cold and hot at the same time. He felt tingly and numb. But most of all he felt a sense that things were not as they should be. He was not as he should be. The feeling was almost overwhelming. So unsettling was this new sensation, that the frog thought that he would almost prefer to have been eaten. Anything was better t
han feeling like this.

  “What are you sorry for, exactly? Torturing me in a sack or forcing me to endure your kiss?” the frog spoke.

  A smile broke through the look of disappointment his captor had been wearing. “So you are Prince Roland after all. For a minute there I thought I might have gotten the wrong frog. Not that there are too many other frogs as large as you are.”

  The frog snorted. “I don’t know this Prince Roland fellow of whom you speak. You definitely have the wrong frog. I can’t help being as large as I am, but I am otherwise a frog like any other.”

  “You don’t remember.”

  “Remember what?”

  “You are no ordinary frog. If you were as ordinary as you say, how do you explain the fact that we’re talking to each other?”

  The frog blinked. She was right, he was talking. He was talking! How was this possible? The frog sat silent for a moment, and then the answer came to him. She was a witch, and she had cursed him when she’d kissed him. She’d changed him into something unnatural, from an ordinary frog into a talking freak. It was the reason he had felt the way he had. “You did this to me. You did this when you kissed me.”

  The girl burst out laughing. She found the frog’s assessment so funny, apparently, that it took her several minutes to calm herself.

  Even on days that he hadn’t been caught in a sack, the frog did not enjoy being laughed at. “You can laugh all you want, but I know the truth,” he pouted.

  “I’m not a witch,” said the woman between gasps, out of breath from her bout of laughter. “It would be awfully convenient if I were, though, since it would have saved me the trouble of coming out here to find you. I need your help, you see.”

  The frog studied his captor more closely. Her face was mostly unremarkable save for the abundance of freckles and a small turned up nose. The one thing that saved her from being completely forgettable was her luxurious mane of curly brown hair. Still, she wasn’t exactly a picture of beauty. Definitely a witch.

  “What do you need my help with, witch?” said the frog.

  The girl eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not sure you’re ready to hear the truth.”

  “Then why don’t you let me out of this sack so I can go back to my life.”

  It wouldn’t be so bad being a talking frog, he reasoned. He could simply refrain from speaking, and no one would ever know. But the feeling of unease that had been so overwhelming had not left him completely. “On second thought,” he said, “why don’t you go ahead and tell me? I’ll bet your lies are entertaining, at the very least.”

  “You are no ordinary frog,” started the girl.

  The frog interrupted, “You said that already.”

  “It’s worth repeating,” said the girl. “In truth, you are a prince, cursed by a witch to take the form of a frog.”

  “Ah yes, the Prince Roland fellow that you mentioned earlier. He’s supposed to be me?” The frog started to chuckle.

  “There’s more. Not only were you a prince, but you had a rare talent. The magical gift that the witch used to turn you into a frog, you had it, too.”

  “So, let me get this straight,” said the frog, “not only am I actually a prince who was turned into a frog, I’m a prince who can turn other people into frogs.”

  “Well, not just frogs, but pretty much anything you can think of.”

  It was the frog’s turn to break out into a ribbit filled laugh.

  The girl tried to wait for him to stop laughing, but when it seemed he would be at it a while she just spoke loudly, “You have the same magic as the witch. I need your help to stop her. ”

  The frog tried to compose himself, but to no avail. It was just so amusing. How could anyone possibly think that he was a magical prince? “Even if everything you say is true and I am a prince with a magical power, how do you expect me to stop a witch? If your story is true it didn’t seem to go very well for me before.”

  The frog looked at her expectantly as he waited to hear her plan. This was going to be good.

  “You were only the first of her many victims,” the girl explained. “Once you’re human, you can use your magic to fix the others. She is a person of position, and the gift you two share is a rare one. No one would believe me if I said she was a witch. But with you and the others, we would have a case to make before the authorities.”

  The frog had to admit that her plan kind of made sense. He felt slightly let down. He’d been anticipating having another good laugh, so he let one out anyway. No sense wasting an opportunity, he thought.

  The girl sat watching him for a while with a disappointed look on her face. Then she loosened the drawstrings of the sack and dumped him the rest of the way out.

  “I came here to ask for your help, and I have. I’m not going to force you to help me. If you want to leave, go ahead. Go live in a pond and eat bugs. Go miss out on love, sorrow, mystery, beauty, friendship, everything it means to be human. Go be a frog.”

  “That’s just what I intend to do.” The frog hopped back towards the pond and plopped into the water with a splash. He poked his eyes above the surface to see what the girl was going to do. She was clearly someone who couldn’t be trusted. After all, she’d abducted him once already.

  The girl took one last sad look at the frog and began to walk away. As soon as she turned her back, the feeling that the frog had felt when she kissed him came back stronger than ever. It took all of his willpower not to call after her.

  Give it a few days, he told himself, and her enchantment will wear off, and you can go back to your comfortable life. With this thought he floated out to the middle of the pond to bask in the sun.

  The frog spent the rest of the day doing all of the things he normally did, swimming, catching flies, sitting on rocks, but no matter what he did, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about the girl and the incredible things she had told him. All the while his feeling of unease lingered.

  When evening finally came and he had eaten his fill of bugs, he hopped off his rock to begin his nightly journey to the village. When he reached the edge of the pond he stopped, remembering the boys who had chased him and his vow to never return. But the feeling that he felt ever since the girl had kissed him seemed to wrap itself around his being and the urge to visit the village was stronger than it had ever been. He tried to resist at first, but as the moon rose higher he wavered. He missed the sights and smells of the sleepy village. Most of all he missed the music. It wasn’t long before he felt his frog legs churning against the current, taking him to the same place that he’d gone to every night ever since he could remember.

  The frog reached the village and cowered in the reeds. There was no music tonight. There was just the smell of meat cooking and every so often the sound of muffled conversation and distant laughter. The silence made him nervous, but the hope that at any moment a song would begin forced him to stay. As night wore on, his hope grew thin and was overtaken by his fear.

  The frog had just turned to go back to his pond when he heard a familiar voice say, “There it is!”

  One of the boys who had chased him the night before began to chase him again. Once again the frog hopped as fast as he could back down the stream. This time, however, his pursuers were cleverer than they had been the night before. The boy’s friend appeared in front of him, blocking his path down the stream. He was trapped between them. The frog froze in his steps.

  A rock hit the ground beside the frog, making him dart to the side, only to pull up short in order to avoid another rock hurling down in front of him. The boy behind him started laughing. “What do you think, Jack? Should we take him home and eat him or keep him as a pet?”

  “A pet, I think,” said the boy in front of him. “Nobody is going to believe we caught a frog this big unless they see it. If we eat’em we’ll be destroying the evidence.”

  To the frog, neither one of these options sounded appealing. He made a break for it, ignoring the pain as a rock bounced off his hea
d. He jumped as fast as he could into the darkness of the forest. The two boys were close behind.

  “Leave him alone!” shouted another familiar voice. It was the girl from earlier that day, the one who had captured him and then set him free. The one who had told him such incredible tales. The one who had kissed him.

  The frog immediately turned and started going towards her voice. He reached her and she scooped him up into her arms. The boys who had had no problem hurling rocks at a helpless frog didn’t quite know what to do now that the frog had found himself a protector. The frog finally got a good look at the boys. They looked quite young, no more than seven or eight. He’d been running from a couple of children. Not one of his finest moments, he thought to himself.

  “We found him first,” said the boy named Jack. “You can’t have him.”

  “I don’t think you want this frog,” said the girl. “He’s enchanted, you see. Enchantments like these can sometimes rub off on another. So if you don’t want to be a frog, you’d best not touch him.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said the braver of the two boys. “You’re touching him and you’re not turning into a frog.”

  “That’s because I’m a girl, and the enchantment only works on boys.”

  “Enchanted frog,” the boy let out a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  The girl smiled wickedly. “Say hello to them, frog.”

  “Um, hello there,” the frog said.

  Just like that the boys became believers in magic. They both turned tail and ran before the frog was able to use any of the insults he was forming in his mind.

  When they were out of sight the frog said, “You can set me down now.”

  The girl placed him gently on the ground. “My name’s Clara, by the way.”

  “Thank you for getting me out of a tight spot back there. It was most appreciated.”

  The frog began to hop back towards the stream. Clara kept pace beside him.

  “What are you doing so close to the village?” she asked him.