Short Story Writing Contest 9th–12th grade Winner: Cora R. Bowen

Thank you to everyone who submitted entries to our Short Story Writing Contest during National Novel Writing Month. Writers were asked to follow the theme, At one point(e).

We were thrilled with the response and are excited to announce the winners from each category:

Walking Miracles by Olivia Prentice (6th–8th grade)
Frog-Child and Snake-Child: An African Folktale by Cora R. Bowen (9th–12th grade)
Afterglow by Jordan Long (Adult)

Our winners received Library prize packs and we will be publishing all three winning short stories during the month of January, here on MidPointe Library’s blog, The Pointe. Please check back to read them!

The second piece we would like to present is the winner of the 9th-12th grade category, Frog-Child and Snake-Child: An African Folktale by Cora R. Bowen.

Frog-Child and Snake-Child: An African Folktale

Once, in a land not so much bigger than ours, Frog-Child lived on the banks of a wide river. One day, as she was playing in the sand, she heard a strange sound behind her. She turned, but could not see who it was behind the tall grasses. It was not a squish-hop squish-hop like any of her family. It was not the bzz-bzz-bzz of any insect. It was not the scurry and scrabble of a shrew. It was a swish-swish-swish. Then, out of the grass came a slim, scaled head, two large, pool-like eyes and a tongue that flitted in and out nearly as fast as Frog-Child’s. Had Frog-Child been older she might have jumped quickly into the river, or she may have been frozen with fear. But she did not know what this creature was.

“Who are you?” she asked, reasoning it might be more polite than ‘What are you.’

“I am Snake-Child,” said the creature. “Who are you?” Had Snake-Child been older she may have snatched Frog-Child up as her breakfast, or held her paralyzed until one of her siblings could come. But Snake-Child did not know this.

“I am Frog-Child.”

“I have never met a Frog-Child,” said Snake.

“And I have never met a Snake-Child,” admitted Frog. “How do you move in that strange way that you do?”

“You mean slither?” said Snake, laughing. “It’s easy. All you have to do is swerve your body from side to side, like such.”

Frog hopped back to make room for her.
“But, Frog-Child,” said Snake, sitting up. “How on earth do you hop about like that?” “It’s easy!” said Frog. “All you must do is crouch, like so, and then leap!”

For the rest of the day Frog-Child and Snake-Child hopped and slithered together on the banks of the river. Neither was very good at the other, but they were good-natured and had great fun.

“Let’s meet again tomorrow!” Frog-Child exclaimed, when the sun began to sink low in the sky.

“Alright,” Snake answered.
The two each went home, hopping, slithering and thinking about the next day.

“Mamma! Mamma! Guess what? I made a new friend! She taught me how to slither,” Frog-Child said, upon reaching her mother.

“To slither?” said her mother. “What on earth was her name?”

“Her name was Snake-Child, Mamma, and she had the most beautiful scales! And you’ll never guess what she told me! She said she thought my webbed feet were beautiful! Isn’t it funny, Mamma? We both-”

“Frog-Child,” her mother said. “Stop. You are not to play with Snake-Child anymore.”

Frog-Child took a small hop back. “But.. why, Mamma?”

“Because I don’t want to lose you. The snakes are our enemies and always will be. They have preyed upon us and our cousins. It is in their nature, in the venom in their fangs, in the scales on their skin. Do not play any more with Snake-Child, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Mamma,” Frog-Child said. In her, a fear and separation had come between herself and Snake-Child. But in the back of her mind a small voice murmured “What if?”

Snake-Child returned home, alternating between hops and slithers. “Snake-Child,” her father called, laughing. “What has gotten into you today?” “I made a new friend, father!” Snake-Child answered.
“A new friend?”

“Yes! Her name is Frog-Child. She says my scales are pretty. I told her I don’t think they are any more lovely than her webbed feet. And she has such lovely markings on her skin! We played all day, and she taught me how to hop!”

“Frog-Child?” her father said. “Daughter, the frogs are not our friends. Our families have been enemies for generations. Next time you meet a frog, you should gobble them up! We are snakes after all. And if we don’t keep them in check, they will gladly take over the river. If one is pretending to be your friend, I am sure it is only to cause some mischief. It is in their nature!”

“But... what if she is different?”
“She is a frog, isn’t she? It is as much a part of her as her skin and her webbed feet.” ‘Is it?’ wondered Snake-Child, looking at her reflection in a pool of water.

The next morning Frog-Child felt ill. She didn’t want to have to see Snake-Child again. She didn’t want to find out whether or not Snake-Child was her friend. She did not want to find her mother was right.

The next morning, Snake-Child set out earlier than any in her family and went to the woods. She was restless, hurt, and confused. Could they be friends? But that possibility seemed cold and far.

The river bank was empty that day save for the songs of birds and insects. Neither went back for the longest time, for fear they would run into each other and find out if their families were right. But neither could forget “What if?”

Years later, Frog sat humming to herself on a warm rock. She peeked open one eye as her son hopped up beside her.

“Mother, I met someone strange. She is long and slender and eats whole birds eggs! I wanted to know if she could slither as fast as I could hop so we had a race.”

Frog opened her mouth, worry filling her, but then she paused. She had been there. At one point, that had been her. At one point, she could have made the choice to change things.

What if?
“You know to be careful around animals you don’t know, right?” Frog said. Her son nodded.
“Be cautious...”
What if?
“...But I am glad you have a new friend.”

The End