5 January, 19:05
Long ago, in those distant times when people still lived in caves, a tribe of primitive cave dwellers inhabited the depths of an impenetrable swamp. They weren’t particularly strong, smart, or agile, but they had mastered the art of hiding in the quagmire and surviving by feeding on whatever the swamp provided, from roots to small fish.
One morning, as the sun began to pierce through the mist, the tribe’s elder sat deep in thought, pondering the future of his people, their path, and destiny. Seeking answers, he closed his eyes tightly and prayed to the spirits of his ancestors for guidance. When he opened them, he saw a large frog sitting on a rock before him.
The frog was enormous, its body covered in warts, and its eyes shone like two black moons. Its voice—raspy and deep—echoed across the swamp. The elder decided this was a sign sent from above.
“This is no ordinary frog,” he told the tribe, gathering them around him. “This is our mother-ancestor! Wise and patient, she has waited for centuries for us to recognize her greatness. From now on, she will be our protector, our god!”
The tribe did not argue. They liked the idea of descending from such a significant being. They began worshiping the frog, offering her their most valuable gifts: the strongest hunters, the most beautiful maidens, and the healthiest children.
“May our strength pass to the Great Frog!” they shouted as they threw their sacrifices into the swamp.
Years passed. The number of strong people dwindled. Only the weak, small, or frog-like remained in the tribe—those with round faces, short legs, or bulging eyes. They took pride in their resemblance to the Great Frog, considering it the highest form of beauty.
But one day, disaster struck. A stork arrived at the swamp. It was huge, with a long beak gleaming like a warrior’s spear. With a single swift motion, the stork speared the Great Frog and swallowed her whole.
When the tribe discovered their god was gone, panic ensued.
“What have we done?” the elder cried. “We sacrificed all our best to the Frog, and now we’re left with only the worst of us! How will we live? Who will protect us?”
But a young man, who resembled a frog more than anyone else, stepped forward.
“This is no tragedy,” he said. “Thanks to our sacrifices, we have undergone a purification ritual. Those who remain are the true children of the Frog! The stork has committed a terrible sacrilege! Therefore, we declare war on everyone who doesn’t look like us. If they are stronger, we will destroy them. If weaker, we will enslave them. The Frog has shown us, through her example, that the whole world hates us, wants to devour us, and rule over our swamp! The Frog died to prove this, and now we must embark on a path of war with the world, and so we shall!”
Thus, the tribe of frog-people proclaimed themselves divinely chosen. They began hunting those who were beautiful, strong, agile, or simply unlike them. Meanwhile, within the swamp, the direct descendants of the Great Frog—those who most resembled her—demanded worship from the others. The frog-people performed various rituals, boasting of their bulging eyes, croaky voices, and short legs. They believed they were growing closer to their ideal of beauty, becoming more like the Frog.
Centuries passed, and no one remembered what the Great Frog actually looked like. The swamp expanded into a vast land, consuming hundreds of human tribes. Yet the ruling tribe of the Frog’s descendants continued to believe fervently that her spirit lived within them. Anyone who disagreed or failed to see the beauty of their world was met with war—a war whose ultimate goal was to transform the entire world into a Great Swamp.
And so they live to this day. Occasionally, the king of the frog-people, admiring his reflection in a mirror, wonders aloud:
“Perhaps the Great Frog is a myth? Perhaps we were wrong, and she wasn’t so great after all… But it no longer matters. We are frog-people, and there is no other path for us.”