The Frog's Throat Still Beats

The frogs returned first; the girl came later. She could hear them croaking with their deep belly voices in the evening light, invisible amongst the reeds and tall grass of the swamp. They complimented each other.

Where the frogs were only sound, the girl was only shape. She waded through the cold water, her bag swinging against her hip, boots getting sucked into the mud with each step. She had chosen this place because it reminded her of her grandparents property, from Before.

Back then, there were frogs at her grandparents house as well. She never actually saw one, but surely something so loud must be real. The girl looks up from the settling water and her sight lands on an incredibly fat frog. She can see his throat moving, his funny eyes staring in no particular direction.

When did it get so quiet? She turns her head to take in the full picture of her surroundings, and is astonished to see that she's in front of a house. A loud croak rings out in the darkness, but the frog is gone. It's just her and the rotting house in this quiet place.

The roof looks soft; it's bending inward toward the ground, held up by a single beam that's missing bits of wood along it's top. The door must once have been red, but now it's a shade of rusty brown. It hangs off of one hinge, peeling apart from the frame. As she walks up the stairs to the porch, she spies bamboo windchimes tangled up in a pile on the floor. There is a jade centerpiece that she yearns to touch, but she leaves it where it is.

Ducking below the collapsed roof, she raises her oil lamp and enters the darkness before her. It smells wet.

The kitchen comes into view first, rusted and smelling of metal. Then the living room, full of glass floor to ceiling bookshelves with books that are only slightly molding. She enters the bathroom, and stops. There is a razor on the kitchen sink, rusted and old. A bar of lavendar soap in the ceramic indent. She opens the medicine cabinet, and finds it has been outfitted to be a necklace rack. She brushes her hands against the colorful beads and stones, but stops as she feels something cold and rough against her fingertips. Pulling it toward her, she sees a heart-shaped locket, large and shiny. She runs a finger over the embossed front. It feels like tree bark. There is a latch on one side that she tries to open, but her thumbnail simply bleeds at the effort. Giving up, she places it back within the cabinet. As she does so, she hears a loud CROAAAAAK, which makes her jump. In that moment she would swear she felt the locket thump, as though it's heart were beating. She lets go as though the locket had shocked her and looks around for the source of the noise. The large, fat frog with the crossed-eyes is standing in a corner of the bathroom, right by the tub.

She regains her composure, and takes a deep breath. She had seen a number of strange things since her adventures among the Repealed lands had begun. However, this particular piece of jewelry felt to her as though it held some great secret.

Still, she looks to the frog and sees it's fast-beating throat, and thinks that she should leave. On her way out of the ill-standing house, she cuts the stringed-jade from the windchimes and slips it into her pocket. She feels a connection to it.

In her world, community wasn't something that one could just find. Those left behind in the After were paranoid, overly-cautious, distrustful. After all, so many had turned to the Other side. Now, all anyone could do was look out for themself.

Feeling the weight of the bright green jade, she moves forward, her boots once again getting sucked into the mud.

She would go forth, into the unknown, and find more mysteries still.