May Short Stories: Thursday Edition

You have to give him to me, the river burbled to Mirrea.

"Why?" she whispered. It pulsed a little, running over her bare feet like a dragon hungry for fingers and toes.

It's the only way he'll become a prince. 

There was a pause, in which the only sound was the slow throb of the waves as they rose and fell against the bank.

You do want him to become a prince, don't you? 

Mirrea clutched the jar to her chest.

"Yes," she whispered.

Then give him to me. It will be easy for you. 

"It won't be easy," she said, a little louder. "I'll think of him."

He has to grow. Don't you want him to come back and fight for you?

Mirrea's grip on the jar slackened a little. "Will you give him back?" she asked.

I'm a dangerous thing, said the river. Not all creatures survive me. 

"I think he'll die if I keep him. He's dying now." She closed her eyes, not wanting the river to see the droplets that leaked onto her cheeks. Then she opened them again. "You'll be...gentle with him? You'll give him a good current?"

There is a wind stirring. Lower him down now. 

A slight breeze curled around her cheek. Mirrea took a breath, then crouched on the cool bank. Quickly, she unscrewed the lid of the jar and leaned forward. In one motion, water fell into water; she could just make out the dark shape of a tadpole tipping into the dark river and, caught by the current, flying away.

She stood, holding the open jar against her chest with tired hands, staring down at the green waters. A leaf spiraled on the surface. Her skirts rustled in the breeze.