Once there was a little frog sitting at the edge of a pond. He was a very idle, bored little frog, always wondering what to do and not really wanting to do much of anything. Until one day when a very scared praying mantis came scampering down to the water, clearly very flustered.
“Oh, my, oh, my, what to do, what to do!” she squeaked.
“How’duh ya do?” the frog droned slowly.
“Not HOW, but WHAT, I say! Do you know what I mean? They’re after me, OH they’re after me! And I can’t swim. Why I’ll surely melt if I get wet, that’s what my mother always said, “Never get wet, or you’ll surely melt on the spot!”
The frog shook his head, as if to shake some of the words that had been flying at him out so he could think. “Who’s after you?” he asked deliberately.
“The chickens! Oh, those dreadful beasts! They have no mercy, and there are so MANY of them! Have you not seen the lot of them? Oh, why, why did I have to be born on this farm?”
“Calm down, now. There’s—,” the frog began.
“Calm down? Calm down! Have you never seen them, then? Do they not eat frogs as well? Oh, they’ll eat anything they can catch, or peck you until you wish they’d eat you!”
The frog at this point decided to try a new tactic. He said nothing, but just looked at the little bug, waiting for her to run out of breath.
“Well, what are you looking at?” she finally took a breath, “Help me!”
At this point the frog could actually hear the chickens very close and had no interest in being pecked. “Very well, then, climb on,” he straightened himself up to full size. And with one nimble leap the praying mantis jumped aboard. Together the two swam out to a lily pad in the middle of the pond.
“Well, there you are. Safe and sound.” The frog looked at the little bug sitting happily on the lily pad. She smiled, finally.
“This is a very nice place,” she said calmly, looking around.
“You think so?” asked the frog.
“Oh, yes. I love it here. So peaceful and quiet.”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” said the frog with a new perspective. “It’s my home. Rather wet, but I like it.”
“Well,” said the bug, rather shyly. “May I come visit you again?”
“I think I’d rather like that,” said the frog.
Cedar
Within the branches of an umbrella-shaped tree, called Dragon’s Blood because of its red sap, about twenty mantises were gathered. It was King Idolo’s counsel. King Idolo was a large, magnificently colored Devil’s Flower mantis, whose red antennae looked very much like horns and made him look quite fierce.
Iriodes, a small green mantis whose job it was to watch the stars and pay attention to signs of changing seasons, was only half listening to the conversation around him. King Idolo was questioning his advisors on the food supply. As usual Hierodula, a tough brown mantis nicknamed the Lizard-Killer, was urging King Idolo to command a mantis attack on larger prey than the usual crickets and beetles. This time it was birds he had in mind. He was met with the usual resistance from the rest of the counsel.
“We don’t need to hunt birds,” the mantis next to Iriodes said gruffly. “I saw one of Sphecius’ spies today. If the cicada-killer wasps are here, it must be nearly cicada season.”
“Iriodes,” King Idolo flicked his red eyes to the star gazer. “How long before the cicadas come out?”
“Within a week. The cicadas follow the star Sirius. Sirius rose early this morning.”
King Idolo gave Iriodes a long look. “Speaking of stars,” he said, then paused.
Iriodes looked up to meet the king’s stare.
“Have you identified the new star on the eastern horizon?”
Iriodes’ pulse quickened. He didn’t know anyone else had noticed the new star. “Yes—its name is Diphda—its appearance means a prosperous year.”
Iriodes left Dragon’s Blood alone. He walked home along the Pond, lost in thought. He passed several crickets and moths and ignored them. He wasn’t in the mood to hunt.
All at once, what had appeared to be . Though even standing there, they still looked like dead brown leaves.a scattering of dead brown leaves suddenly rose up and stood in a circle around him. They weren’t leaves at all. They were ghost mantises
Iriodes looked around. The ghost mantises surrounded him, standing there silently.
“Good evening,” Iriodes said nervously. “Who are you?”
“Servants of the Lady White Orchid,” one of them replied. “She requests a meeting with you. This way.”
The ghost mantises led Iriodes to the edge of the water, where a frog was waiting. Iriodes had heard that White Orchid had an alliance with frogs and used them for transportation. The ghost mantis in charge gestured to the frog. Iriodes took a deep breath and climbed onto the frog’s back.
At once the frog took off silently. They hadn’t gone far before Iriodes noticed another frog approaching, with something on its back. As it came closer, Iriodes saw that the something was a mantis—the most beautiful mantis he had ever seen. She was pure white.
“Are you Iriodes, the star gazer?” she asked in a bright, beautiful voice.
“At your service, Lady White Orchid,” Iriodes replied.
Emily H.
“I just can’t help myself,” Pete said to Howard as he sipped his droplet of dew. “She’s so, beautiful; so mesmerizing. I love her, Howard.”
Howard was concentrating hard then suddenly flung his tongue out an inch in front of him and slurped up a fly. “Dude, I totally get you, but you just can’t go for her, man,” Howard croaked licking up a wing that had gotten loose.
Pete put his head in his hands and sighed. The Praying Mantis had loved Violet since they were Nymphs. He loved watching her stretch nimbly across grass blades and sit delicately under flower petals. He’d hardly uttered a word to her his whole life, and now that they were older and ready to find mates, he felt it was time for him to make his move.
“I don’t know, Howie. Should I do it? Should I go for her?”
“Pete. Man. I don’t know,” Howard croaked in his slow gentle way. “Like, if you go for her, I just wouldn’t have you as my best friend anymore, man. That would be like, super sad, you know?”
“Oh, come on, Buddy, we’ll always be friends,” Pete tried to comfort.
“No, Pete. I mean like, if you go for Violet, she’ll totally bite your head off.”
Pete was slightly offended, but mostly shocked by his docile friend’s response. Howard never spoke poorly of anyone.
“What are you talking about Howie?! Violet is the kindest, most gentle praying mantis. She’d never bite someone’s head off,” Pete defended.
“No, I mean like, literally. She’ll literally eat your head, man.”
Pete stared at his friend for a few seconds speechless, then the words slowly came out. “What. Do you mean?”
“Don’t you remember in Mating Ed last year in school?”
Pete shook his head, “I was sick that day.”
“Ohhhhhhhhh,” croaked Howard slowly. “So you don’t know.”
“Don’t know what??”
“Dude, I’m trying to tell you. Violet is gonna like eat you when you make little baby nymphs ‘n stuff. I don’t know man. It’s weird.”
“Oh. My gosh. Why didn’t anyone tell me this?!” Pete shrieked. “Howard, I gotta get outa here. Oh my gosh, she’s coming. Howie, you gotta help me.”
“Hop on, Buddy.”
Pete hopped onto his Howard’s damp back, just as Violet came around the bend and the two friends glided into the water, safe from the dangers of sweet Violet, the cannibal mantis.
Emily M.
The praying mantis had lost his marbles years ago. No one really knew what precipitated his madness. Perhaps it was the discovery that his closest living relatives were cockroaches, or his horror upon learning that he was surely to be eaten by his partner if he ever chose to form a romantic attachment. Regardless of the reasons, one day Raul had seemed his usual chipper self, and the next he had gone out among his friends calling himself “His Highness Lord Slender Arms” and demanding to eat nothing but elderberries.
His friends, thinking this a joke, decided to play along, and over the next few days they all got rather a kick out of the game. Nancy the ladybug pretended to be a lady’s-maid, and the salamander named Brock took a kind of perverse delight in playing the jester. Francis the frog, not much of an actor (and really a bit of an all-around downer) grudgingly claimed the role of His Highness’s horse, and hoped he would be called upon least to join in this annoying game.
This was a mistake. His Highness Lord Slender Arms became quite excited at the thought of having his own personal transportation, and several days later, when it was becoming clear that this was no joke but rather a lasting delusion, Nancy the lady’s-maid was able to drift away unnoticed, and Brock took to making fewer and fewer jokes.
But Francis? Francis was never out of Lord Slender Arms’ sight, and rarely out from under his rump, and all he did all the livelong day was hop/gallop about in search of elderberries.
This gloomy frog knew full well that the only elderberry bush in the area had dried up several seasons ago, but, as all logic was lost on the megalomaniacal mantis with the munchies, there was nothing for it but to go in search of more.
So Francis hopped. And he hopped and he hopped. And always His Highness Lord Slender Arms pointed the way onward, sure of his sense of direction, though without a shred of sense in his little, mad head.
Elisa
The challenge: Write about this picture.
15 minutes
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