The Puddle

Serenity is a delicate privilege. A privilege granted by life to those who continue to march onward, no matter how tedious or challenging the trek ahead may appear. Through surmounting hardships, life always bestows this gift upon all who achieve such a difficult feat. But just as easily as it’s given, it can just as easily be taken away. Those who remain stagnant or travel backwards searching for their lost serenity will find only indefinite misery and doom awaiting where their happiness once stood.

The Pond was the epitome of how blissful the gift of serenity could be. Nestled within a thick patch of woodland, The Pond was a forest critter’s wonderland. Sheltered by a dense cluster of giant oak trees, a massive stretch of water blanketed the area with only a small, bubbling stream leading out of the safety of the thicket. The water of The Pond was crystal-clear, with residents able to see right through to the sandy ground below. The gentle waves would glitter against the soft light that would trickle through the leafy barrier. The cool splashes of water would lap at the edges of the shore. Cattails and ferns decorated the shoreline in an entanglement of greens and tawny. Animals from the smallest minnow to the biggest buck would brave perilous journeys from all over the vast forest to catch a glimpse of this isolated tranquility.

But in one single, subtle beat of the earth’s heart, The Pond’s serenity gradually vanished. Once a dazzling and magnificent sanctuary for residents of the woodland had now seized up into crumbs of rock and crackled dirt. Towering trees that had once shielded the inhabitants from the pounding rays of the sun had been stripped of their armor of leaves and were now simply tall, shriveled twigs. The elegant, soft waves of the sparkling water had been pulled from its body and dragged into the sky as fluffy whisps of cloud. The wildlife had long moved on from the deserted pool, with only broken and scattered bones of those left behind.

And yet, there were still small stirrings of life that remained in the forgotten oasis. Where the water had been at its deepest, a little, dirty puddle sat cooking in the sun. It was only a splash compared to the wide body it once was. Mud and grime polluted the clarity of the water, making it nearly impenetrable to see through. Small ripples raced over the surface of the puddle as a creature fidgeted beneath the pressure of the unwavering heat.

           “Hey!” a voice piped up from the puddle. The call sent a faint echo bouncing through the empty walls of The Pond.

           “Hey! Hello!” the voice called again. A pair of rubbery lips poked through the surface. “I know someone is out there, could I get a little help over here? This water’s getting awfully steamy!”

           The creature’s voice went unanswered. The smooth, shiny head of a fish slowly emerged from the muddy water and glanced around. The fish waited several heartbeats for a response.

           “I would help myself, but I don’t have legs, you see!” Fish yelled out. “Or wings, for that matter!”

           The only sound in response was the sizzling from the hazy layer of heat that engulfed the abandoned land.

           “Hmm…” Fish mumbled to himself, dipping his head back below the murky pool. “Surely I haven’t been stuck in this boiling pot for that long. I’d have been belly-up ages ago.”

           Fish reached his fins out into the opaque muck, reaching around to feel how much smaller his pit had shrunk. A shiver of alarm shot through Fish’s spine as he realized that the pool had become just barely large enough for him to swim one-inch forward.

           Fish let out a nervous chuckle to himself. “No matter!” he declared. “I’ll find a way out of here and back to The Pond. Surely it couldn’t have all dried up! A heavenly place such as this wouldn’t completely waste away.”

           “Eh? Now just what is all this racket about?” a deep, rugged voice rumbled from the edge of the puddle.

           “Oh!” Fish gasped, nearly launching himself out of the pit in excitement. “I knew not everyone could abandon The Pond! I just knew it!”

           Fish’s darting gaze met a pair of tired, droopy eyes. There, an old, lumpy toad sat glaring down at the top of his glittery head.

           “Indeed…” Toad mumbled.

           “Listen, I know you are unquestionably and most certainly very busy. I’ve heard survival on land is no simple endeavor,” Fish began. “And I am truly, truly grateful that you took your valuable time to investigate a poor, woeful fish’s cries.”

           Toad’s brows narrowed as Fish blabbered on. “Get to it, then,” he croaked.

           “Y-yes! Of course, my apologies,” Fish stammered with a chuckle. “As you can see, I am in a bit of an unfavorable circumstance. Now do note that I would handle myself had I been blessed with the proper equipment to do so. Alas, I find I only have fins and a tail.” Fish spiked up his fins and splashed his tail around for Toad to see. “As such, I am in need of a creature of the land to help take me to the other side of The Pond where there is more water.”

           Toad was silent for a few moments as he stared into Fish’s expectant gaze. The old amphibian suddenly burst into a fit of rusty laughter.

           “More water?” he cackled “More water?!” He had begun laughing so hard that dried mud caked to his rough body started to chip off.

           “Uh…” Fish murmured. “Yes? I’d like for you to take me to the other side of The Pond before I meet an untimely demise.”

           Toad rolled on the ground with laughter, with wheezy croaks edging his raspy giggles.

           “What’s so amusing?” Fish questioned, growing agitated as the crazy old Toad’s chortles started to echo through the empty pool.

           “You twit!” Toad hollered. “There is no other side of The Pond!”

           Panic rattled through Fish’s gut. “…Huh?”

           “You’re sittin’ in all that’s left of it!” Toad exclaimed.

           “How can that be?” Fish demanded.

           “How can you be so dense?” Toad chuckled, his laughter dying down. “You been a fish your whole life, yeah? Know your way around these waters?”

           Fish nodded.

           “Then how did you not notice the trees above your head shriveling up? Surely the leaves had to start to pollute the water.”

           “They just gave us more shade from the sun!” Fish exclaimed defensively. “That’s hardly a justifiable concern.”

           “Okay well,” Toad went on. “You must have felt the water closing in on you as it took to the sky. Didn’t quarters get pretty cramped?”

           “Not until I found myself stuck in this wretched mud pit,” Fish explained. “All of the turtles and other fish had traveled down the bubbling stream ages ago, so I still had plenty of room to swim.”

           “And you didn’t find it out of the ordinary that so many animals were leaving down the stream?” Toad interrogated.

           “I didn’t care,” Fish grumbled. “What those daft creatures did was none of my concern.”

           “Like saving themselves from a certain death as The Pond began to dry out?” Toad challenged. “Was that really none of your concern?”

           “If they wanted to leave the best pond they’ll ever see in their miserable little lives, then that’s fine by me.” Fish snapped.

           “Best pond they’ll ever see, huh?” Toad snarked, glancing around the dry bowl. “Maybe it was the best pond they’ll ever see. Not sure if I’d look at it that way now.”

           “Oh, pish!” Fish growled, turning his back to Toad. “You’re just a stodgy old toad. You probably only spend your days lying about in the muck. What would you know about the splendor of this place?”

           “I’ve watched this same water hole flourish and die over and over again for generations,” Toad rumbled. “Take it from me, a new age of life will prosper again with a bit of patience and perseverance.”

“If you’re not planning on helping me to the other side of The Pond, then you can just be on your way!” Fish hollered.

“Hmph!” Toad huffed. “Arrogant, little miscreant,”

           Once the toad had lumbered off, Fish began swimming around in tight circles, brainstorming ways to get out of the puddle.

           “Okay,” he urged to himself. “There must be a way I can reach the other side of The Pond.”

           Fish burst his head from the water and peered up as high as he possibly could. There was a sandy mound that separated him from the other side of The Pond where the bubbling stream led out.

           “I have to get over to that mass somehow,” he declared. “That toad said that’s where the others went.” Fish dipped his head back below the murky shallows. “If I can make it over that hill somehow, I bet there will still be some water there.”

           Fish allowed his body to sink to the bottom of the puddle as his thoughts raced around his head.

           “Perhaps if I give it all I’ve got, I could leap over that mound to the other side.” Fish wondered aloud. “Or perhaps I could wave down a passing bird to carry me since that lousy toad refused.”

           As the Fish plotted, the sun steadily rose higher into the sky, beating down a merciless heat. The hot waves raced down to the earth, sapping more moisture out of Fish’s puddle.

           “Whew!” Fish sighed to himself. “That heat is sure a doozy…It feels as if I’m melting into the very floor!” Fish wriggled around only to find that his fins had vanished into the ground where he was resting. “Say, I am melting!” Fish joked, tugging his fins free from the mud.

“Hey, wait a tick.” An idea suddenly struck him. “I’ve got it!” Fish angled his nose down into the mud and started sifting through the soft, mushy earth, swimming downward as hard as his tail and fins would flap. “This mud is soft enough for me to dig through!” Fish murmured to himself with a mouth full of wet dirt. “All I have to do is dig right underneath this muck and pop up right on the other side!”

Fish plowed and plowed, mud caking his slippery body with each push.

“Haha!” he mumbled triumphantly. “Never needed that daft old to-.”

A hard surface suddenly smashed against Fish’s nose. “Ow!”

Fish gave his head a few shakes, trying to clear away the throbbing in his face. “What in the world…”

Fish could not see what had impacted his journey to freedom. All the mud he had freed from the bottom of his puddle had darkened the water even further, making it impossible to see the fins in front of his face. Fish reached down to feel what he had struck.

“Of course…” Fish sighed. “Rock bottom.”

Fish slumped onto the sticky ground, the pressure of the hot surface of his watery ceiling pressing down harder against his head. The walls had become closer, slowly squeezing Fish into a tighter and more suffocating space.

“Ugh,” Fish panted. “It’s getting hard to breathe in here. Maybe that toad would at least be kind enough to bring me a bit of water from the other side.” Fish poked his head above the dark depths to find that not only his puddle had been stained by murky shadows, but the sky as well. Ashy clouds hovered menacingly in the air, closing in on the earth below.

“Oh my,” Fish gasped. “I’m running out of time…”

Fish glanced back over at the hill. “I have no choice. I will perish if I don’t take my chances.”

Fish leaned down into the water, pressing his belly deep into the mud and grazing it onto the uncovered rock.

“All or nothing,” he encouraged to himself. “I’m going back home to my pond, where the waters are clear and the toads aren’t complete clods.” Fish sucked in an inhale of filthy water.

“For The Pond!”

He wailed a mighty battle cry before launching himself towards the inky clouds above. Once his body left the water, time slowed. Fish soared through the thick air towards the rapidly approaching sky. The clouds seemed to follow him as he began his descent to the earth.

Wham!

Fish hit the crackled ground with such force that his rubbery body bounced three times against the dusty floor. He instinctively began thrashing and whipping his body around, searching for water. Every waterless inhale shot a strike of pain through his lungs.

“The…Pond!” he gasped desperately. “Where…is…” His body continued to flail around, but all he could feel against his scales were hard pebbles and crunchy dirt. Fish quickly began to tire, with each thrust into the air growing weaker and weaker until all he could do was lie in the dried muck to bake in the swelling heat. Now still, Fish could clearly see over the mound. The Pond had completely dried. Even the bubbling stream had withered into a crumbling trail. Fish rested his eyes back towards the bleak sky, the lack of water and the weight of shame suffocating him. Blurriness overwhelmed his vision and deep rumbles from the angry clouds engulfed his thoughts. Doom was imminent.

Fish knew he was going to die.

Suddenly, Fish felt a wet, slimy force clamp onto his tail.

           “Wha-?!” he wheezed.

           “Hold on there, Fish!” the force croaked.

           Before Fish could comprehend what was happening, he was tossed back down the dirt mound and back into the deepest part of the dead pond. He instinctively sucked in the hot, mucky water through his gills. Once he caught his breath, the dizziness of suffocating slowly began to release him as clarity retook his headspace.

           “I’m back in the puddle…” Fish whispered to himself, regaining focus. Fish poked his head out of the water to see Toad leaning over the puddle’s edge.

           “Have you gone off your rocker?” Toad roared. “You said that fish haven’t got wings! I’m no expert, but I don’t think they can grow them either!”

           “It’s gone,” Fish uttered, ignoring Toad’s harsh words.

           “What’s that?” Toad asked.

           “The Pond,” Fish stated. “You were right. It’s gone.”

           Silence stagnated the air.

           “Yes, well…” Toad muttered. “It’s a shame you had to find out the way you did.”

           “Oh!” Fish snapped. “Did you only rescue me to say “I told you so?””

           Toad shook his head. “Of course not.”

           “Then why?” Fish questioned. “Why would you save me?”

           “Because I know it’s hard watching your first pond die,” Toad stated. “But that doesn’t mean your first drought should be the one to ruin your life.”

           “B-but,” Fish stammered. “The Pond isn’t dead…”

           “Listen, Fish,” Toad explained. “There’s nothing left for you here. It’s all dead and gone. For pity’s sake, look where you’ve ended up waiting here for a time that’s already dead and buried.”

           Fish rolled his eyes. “Get to it, then.”

           Toad cracked a smirk at Fish’s comment. “Right,” he carried on. “But you can’t search for something that’s already gone. You must let go of what was and look to what can be.”

           Fish glanced at the clouds growling above his head. “But I don’t want to let this place go!” Fish sobbed. “I miss The Pond…I miss the cattails and ferns! The clear, cool water! I miss the-”

           A soft, warm droplet suddenly splashed onto Fish’s head. He glanced up to see small, gentle flecks of rain leaking from the sky.

           “Well,” Toad chuckled. “It would appear you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

           The drops were warm, but not boiling like Fish’s puddle. They felt soothing on his damp skin. The flecks of rain quickly evolved from a leak to a shower as the falling droplets became thicker and heavier. Fish felt the ceiling of heat slowly begin to lift pressure off of his body.

Fish watched Toad close his eyes and groan with relief. “Serenity is just beyond the other side of The Pond, now.”

The rain began to pelt the ground harder and faster, healing the cracks in the dried dirt with new mud. Fish felt the walls around him grow wider and cooler as fresh water started to fill the empty pool once more.

Fish breathed in a deep sigh, basking in the relief as weight lifted off of his lungs. As the pressure of panic and shock lifted from his chest, a gentle swelling of sadness rose beneath it. “Things won’t be the same around here again, will they?”

           “No,” Toad answered. “And they probably won’t be as glorious as before.” He uttered a soft chuckle. “They may never even see that same level of peace again.”

           Toad scooted forward and leapt into the expanding pool with a little splash. “But that doesn’t mean we will never be satisfied with the good times to come.”

           “How long will it take for us to get to the good times again?” Fish wondered.

           “Maybe only a heartbeat, maybe quite a long time,” Toad answered, hoisting Fish onto his head. “But once we get there, we won’t need to turn back. We’ll keep marching through as ponds of the future become ponds of the past.”

           Atop of Toad’s head, Fish could see over the dirt mound at the pouring rain collecting in the other side of the wet pool. It was murky and funky-smelling, but Fish felt a spark of hope electrify his body.

           “Say Toad,” Fish said, “Do you suppose we could give this place a new name?”

           “Well, I’d say that’s a swell idea,” Toad replied. “How about we call it “The Puddle?””

           “I think I’d like that,” Fish whispered.

           The two sat in silence as the grey clouds slowed their downpour into a gentle drizzle that continued to transform the broken land into the beginnings of a new woodland oasis.