A Little Frog's Heart: The First Steps Towards Maturity

A Jailhouse Story II-2

This was all the wind needed. He got so angry! In no time, he took a snowball that he moulded by pressing it hard in his fists in order to increase its force. And he started to bombard the rook. But the rook was not just any old rook: she had enough life experience, so she started to “dance” swinging in the “round dance of death” from one side to the other, dodging skilfully the wind’s snowballs of wrath! Not even one hit her!

Eventually, the wind got tired. The rook noticed his fatigue and made rude gestures at him: sticking her tongue out, showing her bottom…

“You fool!” she crowed at one point. “You are good for nothing!” and, in the end, she laughed in his face.

So the young wind tensed itself, sulking because it had been offended, gathered all his strength and, with a mad whirl, gathered together all the snow in the prison’s yard. He made a lot of snowballs which he placed somewhere handy and he restarted the artillery barrage. He really wanted to bring the rook down!

The rook was now feeling that it was no time to joke with the impetuous wind, and I saw how she ran away, wanting to quit the penitentiary yard. If the wind had hurt her from his desire for revenge, it would not have helped her in any way. She would have certainly found herself in the hands of the wardens, if she had been unable to leave the prison’s territory. Yet, when she reached near the barbed wire, the rook looked carefully so that she would not be hurt in the flight above it. The wind took advantage of the moment when the rook was not noticing him and threw another snowball. And this time he hit her! Right on the bottom!

Poor rook! She fell under the weight of the blow, but she got lucky, because she had passed the prison fence. She was able to get up, shake off the snow, and fly on, but the confrontation with the young wind would be an unforgettable lesson for her…

The wind was satisfied. He was smiling contentedly. I looked at him closely and then I recognised him: he was the little strand of wind that had visited my cell the evening before and had scattered everything on the floor: the notebook, the biro… I was happy to see him again. I understood that he had stayed all night near the window, keeping it captive. He had covered it with snow, leaving only a spyhole through which he’d watched me now and then.

I tapped lightly on the glass in the window. I wanted to get his attention. He heard the noise of my tapping and when he saw me looking at him, laughing, he made it to window in a matter of moments. He looked at me a little angrily while wiping the sweat off his forehead, seeming to wonder why had I asked him over. I showed him with my finger, whispering lightly:

“Clean my window!”

“No,” he shook his head, stubbornly.

He didn’t look me in the eye. You could see his anger from last night hadn’t passed yet. But I did not give up: I tapped on the window more strongly, telling him again:

“Clean my window, please, and I will let you get inside my cell again!”

He calmed down as soon as he heard my promise. He stopped his agitation and looked at me from the corner of his eye. He’d even got tamer. In that same moment, he drew air deeply in his chest and blew, scattering the snow off the window. Then he took a look to see what success he’d had and blew once more.

Done! The window was free from snow. Content, he was looking at me through the clean glass, waiting nicely for me to keep my word. His gaze, though, was directed inside the cell, over my shoulder: he’d seen the burning candle. He grew livelier and even waved the twist of his tail, impatient for me to let him in, and I saw how the desire to extinguish it himself was sparkling in his eyes…

I smiled and half opened the window. The wind wanted to get inside quickly, but I slammed it on his nose. He was disconcerted, and he frowned, not understanding what I had in mind:

“I want us to have a deal,” I said, explaining the gesture, by whispering through the crack of the window. “Look what we’re going to do: I let you in, but you promise you won’t behave as you did yesterday evening!”

He nodded his head quickly, his eyes on the candle.

“Look, I will open the widow just a little, enough for you to manage to sneak in!”

He agreed quickly nodding his head.

Said and done! I opened the window just a little and the wind sneaked in gently, carefully drawing his tail inside as well. I don’t think I have to tell you where he went as soon as he got in! Exactly! Toward the candle! He stood near it. He went around it a few times, swerving to the right, and then to the left. He lengthened its flame until he almost put it out. But the candle held on tightly to it. Then, the wind let it go, humouring it. It seemed as if they were playing cat and mouse. Both of them liked to play… gently, I went closer to them. The wind grew afraid: he thought I would defend the candle, or that I would want to extinguish it myself. In order to be certain of his “prey”, the wind took the candle’s flame and ran under the bed with it. The candle looked at me a little angry:

“Let it go,” I waved my hand, looking at her meaningfully. “You know well that this evening we are going to give life to another flame, with the help of a match. Don’t be angry. It is time for you to sleep, anyway…”

The candle saw I was right. Preoccupied, I went to the bed and looked under it: I had to be careful so that the playful wind would not set fire to something with the flame he was keeping captive. There would have been unsuspected punishments waiting for me.

But he was playing with it, throwing it from one hand to the other. He did not see me at the first moment, being too busy with his game. When he noticed me watching him, he probably believed I wanted to take it and, having a hasty character, he hurried to swallow it.

I started to laugh. When it reached his stomach, the Flame burst, so that a strong burp distorted the face of our little wind, coming out followed by a white smoke.

“Was the flame tasty?” I asked, smiling.

He nodded his head to say yes, laughing.

“Good,” I replied. “Look, I will let you inside the cell for the whole day. On one condition, though: no adventures! You don’t touch the biro, you don’t touch the notebook, you don’t upturn anything. Understood?”

He nodded quickly that yes, he understood.

“This is not enough. Swear!” I did not let myself be convinced easily, knowing his doubtful character.

He put his hand to the heart:

“I swear!” he said firmly, looking me in the eyes.

“Good,” I lowered my voice. “Now, if you want to stay there, under the bed, that’s your business. I have other business.”

But before I even managed to stand up, the wind was already in front of me:

“Do me a favour, please!” he begged.

I asked him with my eyes what wanted me to do for him.

“Please tie the towel on the window bars, so that I could go on the swing all day, as I normally do. And I promise I will be nice.”

I laughed heartily. I understood his wish and humoured him. I tied not only the towel, but also another coat on it… From these, I hung a sock, so the swing would be as big as possible for him to swing on it as much as he’d like! As long as he didn’t bother me…

Seeing him content, I went about my business, going first to wash my face. I needed to air the room. Clean air protected the colour of the red blood cells. I needed it!

Above the toilet there was a little mirror which I had improvised from the lid of a tin. I looked at myself and, as well as possible, saw my eyes: they were tired after a night of sleeplessness. I stayed like this for a matter of seconds and, by chance, my gaze fell upon the roll of toilet paper that was placed on the left had side.

“Eureka!” I rejoiced, bursting out all of sudden.

Next evening I would have something on which I will be able to continue writing the story, I thought. I took it quickly and kissed the roll of paper a few times, as a sign of gratitude, then I ran in front of the candle which hadn’t yet fallen asleep:

“Look here, my sweet!” I said to it, full of joy. “This evening we shall continue to work together! We shall be able to continue to give life to our story! Look, your mission is to be careful that, during daytime, nobody touches it!” I told her, offering her the roll of toilet paper.

She could barely contain herself in her skin because of the importance she gave herself starting from that moment. She had an important mission and was happy I had given it to her. I placed the roll on the candle’s body, dressing her up in it. The candle sniffed at it and went to sleep, laying her little head delicately on the soft paper. The wind looked at us from the sidelines.

“Hope the devil will not tempt you to touch my paper!” I warned him, threatening him with my finger.

He sulked a little because of the lack of confidence I was showing, and, placing his hand on his heart, he reminded me he had made an oath and it was not the proper to doubt him.

I went back to the bathroom. I washed myself, I breathed in deeply. At that moment, I heard the usual morning knocks. It was the warden looking through the spy-hole. I went out quickly to the middle of the cell and stood to attention so that he could see me, as per the prison’s regulations.

The door opened slowly, squeaking pathetically. The warden eyed me from head to toe, surprised by the fact I was dressed. I was usually asleep when he came, or swollen with the lack of sleep when I presented myself in front of him. But now he could see on my face that I hadn’t slept for the whole night.

Suspicious, he threw his gaze around the cell. Nothing drew his attention, he took a few steps backwards and locked the door again, slamming it with all his might. The noise was infernal and, as if it was not enough, he kicked it with his feet a few times, swearing at me, discontented, who knows for what reason…

He looked again through the spy-hole. He was probably seeing changes in me and could not calm himself. He entered the cell again and looked around the room. There was something he did not understand. He went back to the door and started to scratch himself nervously on the neck with his truncheon. Judging by the emotions that had enveloped his face, I realised that he would have loved dearly to slam a few truncheons over my head, but he couldn’t find a reason for doing it. Angry, he went out to continue the scenario in other cells. The reveille went on.

His behaviour didn’t impress me. In fact, I was too tired for anything to “touch” me. I went back and sat at the little table to finish the letter I had started for my mother. Then I placed it in a parcel specially made for correspondence, which I stuck to the door, because the warden would come each morning and take out the letters the prisoners wanted to send to the people back home.