Frog, but it's a toad

It starts out similar to most stories of yore. A comely lass is up to her breaches in swamp water, covered in insect bites and surrounded by amphibians.

She had found him, finally. She looked down at the tiny green frog in her hand. The prince who had gone missing by the lake.

The king had sent all his kings horses and all his kings men but all they had done was muddied up the marshes and returned empty handed.

But here he was, she could feel it. The magic in the air was throbbing, she was dizzy on it. Small and bright green in the palm of her hand, he was a cute little guy who made chirping noises. She leaned in and kissed him ever so gently.

The magic in the air pulsed and a wind picked up, the air rushed around her and she felt it, the magic filled the tiny green frog.

She could feel the frog growing in her hand, it's weight increasing, it's eyes getting larger and deeper.

She placed the frog down on a log as the magic turned into a maelstrom and averted her gaze as the tiny glowing green frog shone with brilliant light that hurt her eyes.

The magic whipped at her and she caught her breath.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore the magic stopped in an instant leaving behind a stillness of the wind and a metallic taste in the air. She turned back to her prince to see that sweet small boy who ran around the castle.

Instead there on the log, right where she had placed the frog, there was a toad. A fat, bumpy, mottled brown toad, who croaked with a deep grumble like a beast's growl.

Shocked, she picked up the weightier amphibian and asked "oh, whatever shall I do with you now?"

For this was indeed the small prince, or at least it had been.

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Down by the cook's shed, next to the soldier's barracks, behind the hound's pens there was a trail. Follow not the trail but the creek next to it, deep into the wood, balance along the lightning struck tree, across the black berries and you'll find the clearing full of herbs and fruits and mushrooms and one black lazy cat who sleeps all day on the porch of the witches cottage.

This is where she brought the prince, to the witch.

"Won't you help him?'' she pleaded. Unconsciously picking at her newly formed wart above her lip.

"Help him? He's a toad, don't need no help besides maybe a few crickets."

"Won't you break the curse?"

The witch cackled deeply.

"Dear, curses are dark and dangerous things. They are not to be taken lightly, and won't be broken by some tart’s fat lips."

Somewhat offended, she pleaded with the witch.

"He's my prince, I am promised to him, I am to be a princess."

The witch mocked a frown.

"Listen to me carefully. The only way a curse is broken is through death. Sometimes a curse may move to some next unlucky soul through some sacrificial act, but death is the only way to end a curse. This boy will suffer a worse fate each and every time you try to meddle with him, best you leave him alone now."

The witch placed the toad above her stove on the window sill. The thickest cobwebs lay outside that window, there should be plenty of food for him to catch there.

"Come" said the witch, "join me for some marsh stew."

And this concludes our tale of why you should avoid meddling in magic you don’t understand just because you heard a story about it once long ago.

This story was in response to a twitter post that sometimes circulates Facebook. By @Kristen_Arnett that reads: “woke up in the middle of the night to jot down a story idea and this morning I see I’ve written “frog but it’s a toad””

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