Conclusion — The Day I was Turned Into a Frog.
I didn’t know how long I’d have to wait or if I’d ever get home.
Would I be turned back into myself? “Ribbit. Ribbit.”
The rich textures and shades of blue cradled me. How could I feel safe? “Ribbit.”
There was hope. My granddaughter, Grace, would bring her grandmother to…
Looking toward the river I could make out the trees. They weren't clear like they usually are. There was a kinda Vee shape where a path to the river was.
I saw Smoky Joe sitting by the river like he often does. I don’t know why he always seems sad.
…
Part Eleven — The Day I Was Turned Into a Frog.
“What you got there, Preacher?” It was Smokey Joe who spends a lot of time fishing down here by the river.
Just then the Pickin Preacher's hand moved as he jumped back and I tumbled to the ground.
Shadows fell around me, and I hopped away to safety. I heard…
Part Ten — The Day I Was Turned Into a Frog.
Branches shifted back and forth as the truck rambled along. My head hurt from all the bumping around.
Up and down I bounced. Suddenly…
I tumbled to the edge of the truck as with a jolt — it stopped. Mountains of branches and the piles of wood chips were everywhere…