Squished Frog

Some days ago I spotted a dead frog lying on the road. It was a dusty shaded green and the tyres of numerous cars and motorcycles passing over it had nearly camouflaged it with the asphalt.

It was quite disgusting to look at yet I bent low for a closer look. The frog was lying face down with legs splayed out in the same posture as when the car responsible for its death had hit. The once pink tongue was poking out from its pointed mouth, greyed by the passing time and blowing dust.

Reading its story was quite easy since most of us have felt the same at some time or other in our lives: coming into the world, cared for by mama and sometimes baba, then thrown out mercilessly into the world to fend for ourselves. We have all felt happiness, seen the good things, and then experienced them being snatched away from us in a whiff. No mercy shown by fate. All the pieces on the chessboard of life's game tossed away with a rough motion of the hand without a thought. We have experienced the goodness of life, and then suddenly been thrown off our very kilter.

We always knew what happened was bound to sooner or later, yet we didn't fathom the day would come so soon. When what we feared most would finally come true. Our very worst nightmare staring us right in the face. And back in middle school we thought RL Stein's Goosebumps series gave us the real shivers!

For the frog, being run over and dying so unexpectedly was the ultimate nightmare. But for us humans, numerous nightmares come before the final blow: death. Things you were trying to overlook in the hope they would go away despite reality finally hit you. Hard. Directly on the face. Not a slap, a pinch, or a punch. They hit like a hammer blow and send you reeling back in absolute shock.

And leave you feeling like the squished frog.

The Door That Was Shut

There was once a time when we laughed carelessly, without thinking about what it meant or if it was even supposed to mean anything. We talked and created meaningless stories and dreamed of projecting them to the world, all the while knowing we wouldn't actually be doing anything.

There were times when we made hilarious plans and discussed the most bogus things on Earth and smiled at each others' stupidity.

There were times we cared about what the other felt and lent a helping shoulder whenever it was needed, without being asked.

But then it all ended, just like everything else. Just like all is meant to be.

There appeared a door all of a sudden through which I was being pushed out, shoved by an invisible force. I fought and resisted but the force was stronger than I could ever be were I to even duplicate my strength. It pushed and I resisted. It shoved and I kicked back. Until suddenly, in the blink of an eye, I found myself in a hallway lined with many doors and a key in my hand. I looked back over my shoulder and right there, behind me, was the door: open yet but with nothing visible inside.

There are some things programmed into our very DNA, such as when we are faced with the certainty that the doom we feared is finally upon us, or how we instantaneously know when we have met that special someone we know will henceforth be the focal point of our lives. The same way you know when the door to a room you once belonged to has to be shut.

I continued staring at the key in my hand, wishing the very act would make the moment slip away and transport me back to where I was before, inside the room, at harmony with myself. I kept hoping to at least find an explanation from the inscriptions on the key for why what had just happened did happen. But the moments only kept stretching and the key grew heavier and heavier in my hand.

It grew heavier, yes, till it became so heavy I couldn't keep my hand suspended in the air any longer. So I sank till my knees touched the floor still unwilling to let go of the key, or to do what I knew I ultimately had to. I sank lower and lower but refused to look up, still hoping to at least know why all this was happening to me, why I was being forced into a choice that really didn't present me with any options. And then I felt the tears come out. My eyes became blurry with the salt water and I couldn't even see the inscription any more. I shut my eyes as the realization hit me that this was the moment, this was when what had been destined had to be done. I squinted them tighter and made the decision: I was the keeper of the key, so I would also be the one to lock the door before it locked me out. I slowly got back onto my feet and the key kept getting exponentially lighter. I raised myself to full height using the wall as a support, turned around and grabbed the doorknob, yanked it forcefully to me, stuck the key in and locked it in a frenzy of anger mixed with saltwater. The door didn't resist as if the hinges didn't exist at all. I pulled the key out and staggered on my feet, the world so dizzy around me.

It took me some time to be able to stand straight again for not for one moment did the reality of what I had just done leave my mind. I continued sobbing silently. Hoping the tears would wash away the cruelty of the act but they didn’t.

Ironically the key remained in my hand throughout like an object I had befriended. It quivered in the palm of my hand like a Quidditch ball waiting to be released, wanting me to open the door again. To try once more to get back in. To try to be a part once more of what I had been pushed out of. But I knew going back was one of the greatest mistakes I could ever make. For things change. Everything changes. Everyone changes. Once you have been pulled out of a loop there's no going back since the very configuration of the loop is no longer the same as when you left it. Turning back would only increase your sorrow and pain and make you lose your sanity in an already insane world. I pocketed the key and walked on and on down the corridor of endless doors till I couldn't walk any more, till my feet gave in and I fell face down onto the floor that turned into a clear blue liquid and engulfed me. Covered me completely. Consoled me that this is what was meant to be, and that I had just been an instrument of destiny for which I should be proud. The fighter within me continued to scream at the unfairness of the situation but soon I was too tired to even object to anything. I let the blueness surround me. I gave in.

The key lies in my pocket always.

I sometimes take it out, place it on my palm and think about all it means. A rush of nostalgia overcomes me but I know deep down I can never go back. Can never open the door again.

The key wriggles but I draw my hand into a fist.

Pocket it back in.

And walk right on.