Margaret had always been a woman of routine, living a quiet life in her small cottage by the pond. Each morning, she would sip her tea, watching the sun rise over the water, the soft croaks of the frogs harmonizing with the early morning birdsong. But one evening, as she read by the fireplace, something unusual stirred within her.
It started with a strange sensation in her throat—like a tickle she couldn’t quite shake. At first, she dismissed it, blaming the dry air, but the feeling intensified. Her voice grew croaky, her words coming out in odd, amphibious croaks instead of the smooth tone she was used to. She tried to speak again, but instead of words, a small, quiet ribbit escaped her lips.
A chill of panic crept down her spine. She rushed to the mirror, staring in disbelief. Her skin—once smooth and pale—was now taking on a greenish tint, a soft, almost slimy texture that made her shiver. Her hands, once delicate and graceful, now had webbed fingers, the skin between them stretching and pulling like the webbing of a frog’s feet.
Margaret’s breathing grew shallow as she backed away, but before she could process what was happening, her legs tingled. A sharp, strange pain shot through her bones, and in an instant, her knees bent in unnatural angles. Her feet, too, were no longer the feet she’d known—small, round, and webbed, perfect for hopping across the lily pads by her pond.
With a soft croak of resignation, she felt her posture change, her body sinking lower to the ground. Her arms, now shorter and thicker, were no longer able to reach the top shelf where her favorite books sat. Her face began to change, the features elongating, her nose and mouth flattening into the snout of a frog.
Margaret took a deep breath, or rather, attempted to. The air seemed to shift around her, a strange clarity settling in her mind. There was no fear now, only a quiet acceptance. She had always loved the pond and the creatures that called it home—the frogs that would hop around, their skin glistening in the sunlight. She was becoming one of them, and somehow, it felt… right.
Her reflection now a mix of human and amphibian, Margaret gave one last glance to her cozy cottage and leapt out the door. The world looked different from down here, the ground closer, the sounds sharper. The smell of the earth, the coolness of the water, and the sense of adventure—she felt them all with newfound clarity.
With a ribbit and a jump, she leapt into the pond, her new home, feeling more at peace than she ever had before.