The Frog's Gift

He continued trying to move his body with all his might, but nothing happened. Hours passed, and he lay motionless on the ground. The frog that had woken him up earlier hopped back into his field of vision, stopping at his head.

"Are you the one who woke me up?" he thought, frustration bubbling inside him. The frog tilted its head to the side, studying him with unblinking eyes.

"What! Why are you doing that?" he mentally screamed, panic creeping into his thoughts. The frog straightened its head, hopped closer, and, to his horror, stuck out its tongue.

The slimy, wet sensation on his forehead sent a wave of disgust and confusion through him. His heart raced, and he struggled harder than ever to move. "Hey, stop that!" he tried to shout, but no sound came. The frog's tongue lingered for a moment before retracting with a quiet slurp. It croaked again, louder this time, before hopping away.

He watched as the frog made its way toward the peculiar house with a tree growing through it. "Wait! Where are you going now?" he thought, straining to turn his head. After much effort, he succeeded in moving it slightly, shifting his gaze.

The tree that sprouted from the house was unlike anything he had ever seen. Fruits of various shapes, sizes, and colors dangled from its branches, each more bizarre than the last. One, in particular, caught his eye—a golden, eggplant-shaped fruit that gleamed in the faint light.

His attention shifted as he noticed the frog climbing the tree. It used its tongue as a rope, swinging from branch to branch with ease. The frog ignored most of the fruits, hopping higher and higher until it reached the fourth visible branch. There, it paused in front of a strange, V-shaped fruit as black as a starless night, absorbing all light.

Without hesitation, the frog opened its mouth wide and swallowed the fruit whole. It then continued climbing, disappearing into the dense foliage above.

Minutes passed. Then thirty. Finally, the frog returned, leaping down from the tree. "Oh, you're back!" he shouted internally, his panic flaring again as the frog plummeted toward the ground.

Before it hit, a transparent sphere materialized around the frog, cushioning its fall. The sphere bounced lightly and rolled to a stop next to him. The frog sat motionless inside, croaking once as the sphere shimmered and vanished.

"What are you doing now?" he asked silently, frustration mingling with curiosity. The frog hopped closer, stopping just inches from his face. Its mouth opened slightly, and he glimpsed a faint glow from deep within its throat—the same black fruit it had eaten earlier.

The frog croaked one last time, louder than ever, and the sound seemed to ripple through the air. Before he could brace himself, the frog retched, spitting the fruit out next to his face.

"What!" His mind reeled as he stared at the fruit. "That's it? What now?"

The frog tilted its head, then swallowed another of the bizarre fruits from the ground. It croaked insistently and hopped in place, as if urging him to do the same.

"Eat it? Are you telling me to eat it?" he questioned.

The frog hopped again.

Determined and desperate, he forced his neck forward. With painstaking effort, he used his tongue to grab the fruit and swallowed it whole. Its bitter, almost metallic taste coated his throat, but before he could dwell on it, an intense warmth surged through his body.

It started in his throat and spread like wildfire, filling every vein with energy. His heart pounded faster, his mind buzzed, and his fingers twitched. Then his arms. Then his legs.

With a ragged gasp, he lifted his head for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Air rushed into his lungs, and relief flooded him.

The frog watched him intently, its bright eyes shining with something akin to satisfaction. "You… did this?" he croaked out, his voice hoarse but audible.

The frog gave a loud, triumphant croak and hopped in a small circle before stopping to face him.

He pushed himself upright, trembling as he sat. His fingers flexed, his arms shook, but he couldn't stop staring at his hands. "I'm moving again…" he whispered, disbelief clear in his tone.

His gaze drifted to the remnants of the strange black fruit. "What kind of fruit was that? And what… what are you?"

The frog simply stared at him, its expression unreadable. Then, without warning, it turned and began hopping toward the house with the tree growing through it. Pausing at the doorway, it looked back at him and croaked.

"Wait! You can't just walk away after all that!" he said, his voice cracking as he struggled to stand. His legs wobbled, but he managed to rise shakily to his feet.

The frog seemed pleased and continued into the house, leaving the door ajar.

***

After reaching the door of the house, he gasped as if he'd just finished running a marathon. Desperate for support, he reached for the door, but the moment his fingers touched it, the wood crumbled into fine dust. Startled, he stumbled back for a second before steadying himself. Ignoring the strange event, he leaned against the brick wall beside the doorway, its rough surface cool against his back.

The frog turned to look at him from inside the house, its head tilting slightly as if to check on him. Seeing that the young man was still on his feet, the frog gave a soft croak and hopped further into the house, disappearing into the shadows.

Stepping inside, he was immediately struck by the sight of the massive tree dominating the interior. The trunk rose straight through the center of the house, its gnarled roots breaking through the floor and snaking up the walls. Branches extended outward, holding the ceiling aloft like a natural pillar.

The ceiling itself was rotten, its wooden planks sagging and riddled with holes. Sunlight peeked through the gaps, casting small patches of light onto the dark, damp interior. He eyed it suspiciously. "That doesn't look like it's holding up too well," he muttered.

Bending down, he picked up a loose brick from the floor. "Let's see how strong you really are," he said, tossing the brick upward.

The brick struck the ceiling with a dull thud. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with an earsplitting crack, a large section of the ceiling gave way, crashing to the floor in a cloud of dust and debris. The sound echoed through the house like a thunderclap.

He shielded his face from the falling dust, coughing as he stepped back. When the dust settled, the house was noticeably brighter, the exposed sunlight illuminating the strange interior.

The floor, however, was now revealed to be submerged under a thin layer of water. The young man stepped forward cautiously, his wooden sandals splashing in the icy puddle. "Cold…" he muttered, his breath hitching at the sudden chill.

As he thought about how useful a pair of boots would be in this situation, his wooden sandals began to change. Before his eyes, the wood shimmered and shifted, transforming into sturdy, leather boots.

"What the—?" he stammered, staring down at his feet in disbelief. The boots felt snug and dry, as though they had always been there. "How... did that happen?" he muttered, his voice tinged with confusion and awe.

The frog, now perched on one of the exposed roots of the tree, croaked again, its eyes gleaming as if amused.