The Frog

No. 34/100 flash fiction storiesSee the prompt that inspired it!

Rain fell. Waves surged through a small pond in a small wood in a small town. 

And yet, the green frog sat. 

Croak! he said, full of joy as a wave splashed on his face. He did not need to fret; he knew the ground was fixed, though the pond was not. He was cool, he had food, he breathed fresh air—the rain was a gift. 

How much more joy would we have if we put more hope in what we know to be true than the waves we see in life?

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Photo by Wouter van der Velde on Unsplash

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When you write as much as I do, you have to take frequent breaks from sitting. A standing desk (not a whole desk, but a mini desk that will sit on top of my current desk with my laptop, keyboard, and mouse and extend upward) will allow me to continue working while maintaining that good blood flow to my brain. Thank you so much for your support that allows me to keep producing free content. God bless you! ♥️ E.J.


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