Henry the Frog

Once upon a time last Tuesday, lived a small frog called Henry. Henry was not like all the other froggies at the pond, they were kinda mean and used to push him in the water when he was cowering at the edge. You see Henry was afraid of the water, and for a frog that is very bad. When he was just a little tadpole he had a very nasty accident. A small crow had flown down early one bright spring and taken an extra large gulp of water. Henry, being very tiny and little was accidentally swallowed by the crow, who although meant no harm, nevertheless caused it. So Henry floated in the mouth of the crow like a water baby, which is technically what he was. But then as the crow flew around a lot he got very tired and so it was that he decided to land and take a rest at a new pond, far far far away from Henry's. The crow coughed loudly and out spilled Henry with a plop into his new world. Scared and frightened Henry cowered in the shallow end of the pool. When he awoke, Henry was far from home and the new frogs were far from friendly. In fact they were quite mean. Days passed slowly in the beginning, hours trickling like drops from an icicle and Henry would stay in a quiet corner and watch the sun make it's slow passage across the sky. What he longed to do more than anything was to be near the top of the surface like the others, flicking flies from the air at will. It seemed to Henry that this would never change, that he would constantly be the frog on the side, alone and weeping, and as he thought this, his salty tears began to mix with the freshwater, lost in the dilution. Then one magical morning Henry awoke to the noise of great chatter. 'What does this mean?' One frog asked his friend. 'I've never seen anything like it, I think perhaps we are all in a great deal of trouble.' Henry opened his little eyes wide and gazed up; the surface normally a shimmery wobbly haze of light was today crystalised, shards of cut glass, twinkling like the stars Henry had once felt so far away as he flew high above the earth in the mouth of that crow. Finally and finally he summoned and plucked the courage to venture from beneath his ledge of stone. As he softly paddled to the middle of the pond, all the other frogs hushed their voices and began to stare. Despite their accusing eyes, Henry continued to plod to the middle of the pond. Once there he looked around and after a few moments nervous pause he saw what he was seeking. Swimming furiously towards a gap in the glass he struggled through a sliver of a hole, barely big enough to fit a lizard. Pulling himself up he found himself standing on thin sheets of ice, peering down at the sets of blinking eyes beneath his feet. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the scarf his mum had knitted for him the winter before. Wrapping it tightly around his neck he put his hands behind his back and began to skate. Schwoom, schwip, schwoom he went, carving tight neat circles into the freshly crisped ice. Pirouette followed pirouette, twist followed turn, and soon a whole host of birds, bunnies and badgers were watching from a nearby tree. Spontaneously they applauded, breaking out into bursts of clapping like furry little fireworks. And as he skated over his adversity Henry for once felt ok.