Zamora and the toad

ZAMORA AND THE TOAD



‘So,’ said Zamora to the little green toad under the glass. ‘Where did you go today?’

‘I went nowhere,’ replied the toad, ‘for as you can see, I am under the glass.’

‘Would you have me remove the glass from on top of you?’ inquired Zamora.

‘No,’ replied the toad. ‘It makes no difference to me whether there is a glass on top of me or not.’

‘Don’t you ever want to explore and see the world around you?’ asked Zamora.

‘I have travelled the world a thousand times in my head,’ replied the toad.

‘Wouldn’t you like to meet other creatures and do things you’ve never done before?’ coaxed Zamora.

‘I have met all the creatures and done all the things in my dreams,’ replied the toad.

‘Wouldn’t you like to find something to have of your own?’ asked Zamora.

‘All I want and need is here, under the glass,’ replied the toad.

‘But you have nothing under the glass,’ observed Zamora. ‘If you stay there exactly like that, you will surely die of thirst and hunger.’

‘I am content with my lot, and when it is time for me to go, I shall go quite happily,’ replied the toad.

‘You would go quite slowly and dreadfully,’ warned Zamora.

‘Pain and time are all in the mind, and I am quite content in my mind,’ replied the toad.

‘Are you happy?’ asked Zamora.

‘Content,’ replied the toad.

‘Why won’t you let me take you out of there, so you can play in the garden?’ suggested Zamora.

‘There are plenty of gardens in my head, much more pretty than yours,’ replied the toad.

‘Why won’t you let me give you some food and water, or pour some water over your skin?’ coaxed Zamora.

‘Those things are not necessary,’ replied the toad.

‘Don’t you ever wonder what it’s like outside of that glass?’ asked Zamora.

‘Don’t you ever wonder what it’s like being here under the glass?’ replied the toad.

‘Why would I?’ questioned Zamora. ‘Everything is so much more interesting out in the world. It must be so dull and lonely and frustrating being under the glass all the time.’

The toad laughed.

‘Why do you laugh?’ asked Zamora.

‘The reason I do not leave the glass,’ the toad explained, ‘is that I am so content here I cannot possibly see why I would want to leave. I find it amusing, but saddening at the same time, that you like your world so much that you cannot see why you would possibly want to enter mine.’

Zamora thought about this for a while.

‘Wouldn’t you like,’ she suggested, ‘for me to lift up the glass – just for a few moments – so that you could just feel what it’s like not to be trapped in that glass?’

‘Trapped?’ replied the toad. ‘It is you who is trapped, and trapped so badly you think the freedom I enjoy is an imprisonment. Let me issue a challenge to you: why don’t you swap places with me, so that you can taste my existence and I can taste yours?’

‘How do I do that?’ asked Zamora.

‘All you have to do is touch the glass,’ said the toad.

Zamora touched the glass, and in an instant, she had turned into a toad sitting underneath the glass, and the toad had become a young girl standing in the garden and staring at a glass in the thick grass that had a toad trapped underneath it.

‘See?’ said the girl.

‘I don’t like this at all,’ said Zamora. ‘You must change me back at once.’

A distant voice called out, ‘Zamora, Zamora, Zamora! Do come in, your lunch is ready.’

‘Goodbye,’ said the girl to Zamora.

And with that, she skipped off towards the kitchen to eat Zamora's lunch.