I get up and greet him with a smile. “Don’t screw up, while I’m gone.”
I decide to take the car, although I do occasionally, just to save a few minutes.
I tour around the house and I reach the garage.
Right at the front door there is a dung heap. I looked at him in disbelief, not understanding. Mario put it there? And for what reason, we don’t have plants that need it.
I approach with caution. The stench is nauseating. No doubt, this is just a small hill of excrement, placed in front of the garage door. I can’t even open it, under these conditions!
I throw curses against the whole world, but at the end I get a shovel and go back to face it, resigned. I thrust the shovel in that pile, and the stench seems double strong.
I feel sick but I force myself to continue.
Just withdraw my shovel and I recognize what I have unearthed, I scream.
I can’t stop: continuous, hysterical, until the neighbors get worried and come.
“They are human remains, no doubt. Of different bodies, the doctor is sure. Some of the bones are too small to belong to an adult body…”
Even the cop manages to continue.
Mario holds me tight and tries to console me. I cry on his shoulder.
I know they are human remains, I knew, as soon as I saw those bones on the blade. Exams will be needed to identify them, but I understood even by those who are. I have no more illusions about the fate of little Alice.
“But what does it mean?”, Mario yells, angry. “Are excrement, or not?”
The police officer nods, pale. “Are excrement.”
“What?”, my husband shouts droppings. “You would tell me that someone… ate them?”
The police officer tries to laugh, with a bad result. “No, of course, it is not possible. Certain things do not happen.”
“Then what does it mean? Why they settled here, in our garden? Threat perhaps? Are we in danger?”
The police officer frowns and then goes to talk to a colleague. His tone seems more abrupt. “We will leave a patrol car out front, for your safety.”
I am not sure it is just this reason, but I do not care, I still feel more secure.
Mario continues to hug me and caress me. “Don’t worry, it’s alright, nothing’s going to happen there.”
But it’s not okay.
Living with Frog is complicated. Especially the relations between him and the rest of the family.
I am forced to leave my job, officially because the shock caused by what I found in the garden. I can get even Mario to believe it.
Actually, I don’t want to leave Frog alone.
The boys don’t accept it. Another brother, or prince spellbound, they just can’t endure, and he’s always in the way. I fight with Claudio, who tried to kick him.
When I prepare a room for Frog, Mario makes a tragedy, but after a couple of nights spent with Frog in our midst, he takes off his clothes from the closet and moved Frog in that room.
I know I should run after him, apologize, and convince him to come back, he does expect that. Instead I rest in silence, I let him go. I stay alone with Frog.
He is quiet, is content to stay next door. Loves to be picked up, when I sit, he jumps immediately on my lap.
While my family crumbles, I feel our relationship grow stronger, day-by-day.
There is harmony amongst ourselves, we understand each other. Aside from the fact that he’s a frog.
Then, however, the nightmares begin.
I’m in a swamp, and it is night, and I hear frogs croaking, but I can’t see them. Only that they are not regular frogs, I feel they are horrible, and I heard their frightening voices.
I am immersed in water up to the hips, and I find it difficult to move. Underwater, something touches my bare legs, and it’s slimy, disgusting.
I cry, and I call Frog. I lost him; I do not know where he is. I’m getting more and more out of the shore, lounging in that dark swamp.
I’m desperate, I feel I must find him at all costs, it is vital. I call him repeatedly.
Then, boiling water in front of me, and I understand that something huge is going to emerge. Something frightening, terrifying. Yet I won’t escape, I still call it.
It exits, it rises over the water, it is a mountain of meat, with two wicked black eyes, red-rimmed. Similar to a frog, but it is bloated with prickles furniture like tentacles along the entire back. A creature out of hell.
It opens the mouth, an abyss without end, and I see his tongue darting out to me, like a rubber band. I realize they want to eat me, that I will end up inside of her, in her stomach, which I will digest, which I…
And here I wake up almost suffocated. I feel a huge weight on the stomach, which is crushing me. I’m sure the monster is here in front of me, and wants to eat me.
Then stretch my hand and I search the switch, desperate, touching the nightstand.
When the light goes on in front of me, I see Frog.
It squatted on my chest and was looking at me.
I cannot find the strength to shake it away, I wake up, my eyes fixed on him, for the rest of the night. I leave the light on.
This is only the beginning, then it’s worse.
There is a looming presence in the house, a frightening presence.
Something gigantic, evil, and dangerous, that oppresses me. I hear it everywhere, in every room. And Frog is always with me.
Every time it happens, I hear that thing behind my back, I freeze, I have to force myself not to scream, I gather enough courage to turn around to look, there’s never anyone. Only Frog that jumps around behind me, and it watches me.
Everything seems different. My lovely house has turned into a death trap, the rooms are too dark, full of angles that I had never noticed. The lawn is high, could hide anything. Even my beloved oak has changed, now seems just a monster that dominates the house.
Or maybe not. Am I to be changed. I am going crazy.
Days go by; Mario and I fight.
I’m already living a nightmare, really didn’t intend to endure his moodiness. I don’t understand why you refuse to understand, because they all refuse to do so. Yet Frog has already had a family, right? And without any fuss.
Instead: “I don’t recognize you anymore! You have changed, you’re another!” And then: “It’s that damn frog! You realize that you’re neglecting your children for it? What kind of mother are you?”
It is bad, and it knows that. It does not stop. “Why do you behave like this? Why do you tell those absurd stories? Why are you treating us like that?”
I don’t know, I don’t understand it either. I’m starting to get scared of Frog, yet can’t help but always defending him, to protect him.
“I am not good anymore, is that what it means? For this you’re ranting of prince charming, am I not enough?”
Also, it hurts, a lot, because I feel there is a kernel of truth in his words. He’s my husband, I always loved, yet I feel like I’m missing something, and I know that only Frog will fill that void.
And finally, the inevitable. “I think that’s the case you can call for help. I am sure a professional counseling could be helpful. I scheduled an appointment…”
There I explode, I slap my husband, for the first time in our married life, and I run out of the house.
He chases. “Wait, I didn’t mean to…”
But it is useless, I already reached the sidewalk, and I look around. There’s the car. We no longer had the courage to put it in the garage; since the discovery of the bones is parked out in the street.
I go up and put into motion. He keeps calling me, but I am leaving before he can reach me.
As I walk away from home without a goal, I’m slowly getting somewhere.
It is not immediate,. The lack of Frog is something physical, painful. I left him, I left it at home with my husband, and he hates it, he could hurt him.
I almost decide to go back, but then I think, for the first time in d
ays. I fight that sense of separation, and I force myself to reflect. I fix my mind on Alice. Who killed Alice and her family? How did his remains arrived in my garden? There is only one thing in common between us: Frog.
And here comes back harrowing lack thereof. No, you cannot, Frog did not hurt anyone. He is a frog, so small, so good, so cute. He is a prince.
That’s what awaits me? That happen to me, my husband, my children? We will make the end of Alice? The beast that lives in my house will eat us?
But why, why did this happen? Frog lived one year with that family, without nothing would happen.
They took it from the swamp…the swamp!
I pull the car and take the map from the dashboard. At first, I find swamps anywhere, then I notice a blue stain, which might also be a pond. It is not reported by any name.
I continued, now that I’ve set my goal.
The bar is small but pretty. The style is rustic, comfortable. There’s a guy behind the counter, who smiles at me when I walk inside.
I order a coffee. “There is a swamp, around here?”
He shrugs. “A species. Now they’ve reclaimed almost all. There is very little. Must continue this road for a few kilometers. On the right, you will notice.”
“It has a name?”
“None I am aware of. They always call the witch’s swamp. I don’t think you can call that a name.”
I wince. “A witch? There was a witch?”
He bursts out laughing. “No, there’s no witch. They only call it that.”
I do not ask for anything else, because he is too young and I would not let him laugh at me also.
It is a swamp, yes, but it is very small.
I see it from a distance, but also referred to a house just up the street. An old lady is stretching out the cloths in the garden.
“Sorry…”
“What is it, are you lost?”
I shake my head. “That swamp…”
She looks in that direction. “So?”
“My kids would like to do a tour here; do you think it’s safe?”
The old woman laughs. “Are you afraid of them drowning? There is not enough water, it’s almost dried up completely. Don’t worry, nothing will happen.”
“It is for the name, it sounds ominous.”
She arches an eyebrow. “What name?”
“They told me…is it not the witch’s swamp?”
She laughs again. “Is it still called so?”
I’m going in. “There was really a witch, around here?”
“Oh, it is an ancient name, for centuries they called it so.”
I do not hide my disappointment.
The old woman continues, making me surprised. “Yes, there was. But it’s an old story. Just a legend, passed down for centuries. Apparently, there was an old woman of the village, a midwife. They said that she works evil, the whole village had turned against her, they made her life impossible. She was forced to take refuge in that swamp. Poor thing, everyone was so superstitious in those days.”
“And then what happened?”
“Nothing, what do you want to happen?”
“The old woman…what did she do?”
“Remained there, I guess. The village didn’t want her anymore.”
“Died there?” Evidently, yes, (a silly question). “After that, there have been strange happenings?”
She bursts out laughing. “You want to know if there are ghosts? No, there have never been ghosts. Only mosquitoes and many, many frogs.”
Thank you and I walk away, more and more upset.
Not the swamp of my dream, really not.
The water isn’t even that murky, I doubt it’s more than half a meter deep. There are few mosquitoes and even fewer frogs. Or I put them on the run with my arrival, or even they have ended up dying out.
At the bottom is a nice place, ideal for a picnic, there is nothing alarming or mysterious.
The thing, however, only demoralizes me.
When I got back home, it was evening. The lights are all extinguished and silence stand. On the kitchen table a message from Mario: he and the boys went to watch the game and will come back later. At the end he added two words: I love you. As if that would be enough to defuse everything.
They left dinner in the oven, but I am not touching it.
Behold, we come back to this house to feel oppressed again. Something monstrous spying on me, hate me, wants to kill me.
Frog is not there, it did not come to meet me, and anxiety grows immediately, the fear that they take it away from me, the fear that they hurt it.
I try to resist, to continue to think, but can’t do it only for a few moments, then I start to run, I climb the stairs hurried call as well.
It is not in the bathroom; his tank is empty. I’m in the room, on my bed. The door is closed: Mario imprisoned him there, before going out. I almost cried from relief.
Frog jumps on the bed, he comes at me. I reach out and caress him. Immediately I feel a chill, an oppression, a terror. I withdraw my hand.
Because he’s different because when I have it next to me I can no longer think clearly? Why me, especially because I am Alice’s mother. No one else suffers its charm, even Alice who loathed him. So why do we do?
What we lack, to us? Prince charming? That’s what represents Frog for us? That’s what we can give? Mario is convinced, I don’t know, I feel so confused.
Why did Alice die? Why did his mother die? Why now, after a year?
The designs of Alice, hanging on the wall of his room, haunt me. For that little girl had become an obsession: kissing Frog, transform him back as Prince. Get it changed.
She was convinced that would be the solution to everything, would change everything.
Alice had decided to kiss Frog, that’s the triggering event. She had decided to try, to see if it would turn.
But she didn’t, otherwise Frog would no longer be a…frog.
Or does she, did it? Or she did it and…and what appeared before her was not the prince charming who she wanted, but…
“What are you?” murmured to Frog. “What are you really? What is hidden inside you?”
I need to know, I have to find out, no matter what. Before losing Mario and my children before I get locked in a mental hospital. I have to find out.
Because Alice’s mother never did? Yet Frog followed just her. But Alice trying.
Were you afraid? Terror, just as I am now?
I feel that evil is here in this room, looking at me, hate me. Perhaps she was haunted by nightmares.
Yet Frog is so cute, so sweet, and I can’t even conceive that hurting me.
What else do I have? Continue this life of anguish, or kiss a frog? If nothing happens, I can get a laugh.
But if…if I find myself in front of the monster of my nightmares? If wide open that mouth obscene, if his tongue dragged me I grabbed her waist and weeping in a sinkhole springs and stinky?
Swallowing. Wonder Frog. “You would never hurt me, right?”
Frog jumping, as if he wanted to be picked up.
She wants him too, I know, want to be freed. And I need to know, should be the last action of my life.
Pick it up, with both hands, lift in front of his face.
Give him a kiss? On those lips? I tremble, now seems much less nice. Indeed, it looks increasingly to the frog-monster of my dreams.
I close my eyes, will be worth the same as doing it with my eyes closed?
I get closer to my lips.
Behold, let go, almost done.
That is not the case.
I do not have time to kiss him. A violent crash behind me makes me wince. I’m hit by fragments of glass exploded. And feel the presence, a monstrous presence, the same one of my nightmares.
It’s not Frog, still in my hands, but something behind me, immense and powerful.
I do not have time to turn around, something grabs me, embraced painful. I get scared, I do flying Frog and I cling to the edge of th
e bed with both arms.
It is not the language that I had feared but something slimy, strong, and rough, that seems to want to dance in two. I see with horror branches around my body. Just tear me up, crush me, they try to pull me away. Other branches, smaller, darting like snakes, they are trying to imprison me in his arms.
And then, for a moment, turned his head.
My dear, old oak came to life, is now a monster of a thousand tentacles, and its branches are no longer inanimate wood, but rabid stand, hit the house, trying to break down the wall. I am submerged by his hatred, desire that has me apart, eat me, man.
A sinkhole opened on the trunk, much like a ravenous mouth.
No, it’s not my oak tree. My oak tree is dead, something took its place, something ancient and evil, which survived for centuries with the sole purpose to fulfill its revenge.
The witch will also be gone, long time ago, but his hatred continued to exist, has soared, ensures that his curse will continue forever. And moved, from object to object, to follow him, my frog.
Yes, I never lost sight of; It was the oak presence obsessive that felt behind my back. The oak that always spying on us through the glass.
I guess the crucial moment where Alice tried to kiss a frog. I guess the Bearskin, that always bugged them, animate beneath her, become a monster; I imagine ripping up the little girl and her parents, devour them.
Because that is what he wants, that accursed witch, that no one ever breaks his spell.
“Frog!” I scream. “Frog!”
He rolled on the ground, confused, but my scream he recovers. Ruffle on the bed and keeps hopping towards me.
Feel the wall crack, such is the strength of those branches. Part of the plaster collapses to the ground. I can’t take any more, his embrace is dragging me away.
I lose my grip, before a hand, then the other. And while I’m about to be taken away, scream again. “Frog!”
He jumps.
And I do the only thing possible, I grab in flight.
The monster almost dragged me out of the window when I kissed him.
Do not close my eyes, indeed, fixed them on her, that now seem more threatening, and kissed him on his moist lips.
The Prison Page 20
