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Eyes of a Frog Prince Ch. 2About ten years later....
A young frog stared at the clouds about him. This frog was different then what most people would imagine a frog to look like. His skin was pale, pale yellow and not moist and "slimy", but puffy and soft. His dark brown eyes reflected the sky above him. His hands, currenly behind his head supporting it, were not flat and webbed, but large, with several large, puffy fingers. He donned poofy pale blue and yellow pants, with a belt too. His feet, also puffy, were currently in large, pink shoes. He had a strange, pink curl for hair, which rested on his forhead above his eyes.
Mallow the frog sighed. It was a beautiful late spring morning. A soft breeze weaved through the ever wispearing trees around the small lake. Birds flew through the air, singing beautiful songs. Even the clouds far above seemed happy. For all Mushroom Kingdom children, school was out at last, and they now had summer vacation. He should be happy, sleeping in,
Eyes of a Frog Prince Ch. 1 Nimbus Land.... a beautiful country in the sky. Although it was technically a cloud (or more correctly a series of clouds), it was thick, and you wouldn't fall through. A series of small vines and tiny clouds led up to a cloud below the main one. A tiny path to the right led to the hot springs (for the royal family only, and anyone with their permission, due to the fact if it was over crowded someone could fall into the Volcano below). A spring board lead to the main cloud, where there was a village. Houses made out of vines and cloud seemed drafty and plain at first, but the inside was cozy and was elaboratly decorated, for the Nimbians were proud of their heritidge. The center of this village was a sort of gathering spot. If the royal family had an important announcement, a messenger would come, and the Nimbians would assemble and hear the news. And a little ways away from the gathering spot....
Was the royal palace. Inside and out it was elaborate
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
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