This Is Weird

Frog

In the bustling city of Lusaka, amidst the vibrant tapestry of life, I pursued an unusual fascination: dissecting frogs. Night after night, I would immerse myself in the intricate workings of these amphibians, marveling at their anatomy.

But as my fascination grew, so did a strange and unsettling transformation. Gradually, my hands began to morph into webbed appendages, my skin turned a vibrant green, and my voice croaked like a chorus of frogs. I had become cursed-the curse of the frog.

Panic surged through me as I realized the horrifying truth. My once-normal existence was now a living nightmare. I had to escape my home, my life, and the judgmental gaze of society.

Donning a tattered cloak, I fled into the labyrinthine streets of Lusaka, seeking refuge in the shadows. The city seemed to mock me with its cacophony of sounds, each honking car and chattering voice a cruel reminder of my grotesque transformation.

As the moon cast its eerie glow upon the city, I stumbled upon an ancient temple. Its crumbling walls whispered secrets of forgotten times. With trembling hands, I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside.

The interior was dimly lit, casting an otherworldly ambiance. As I explored the temple's hidden chambers, I discovered an ancient scroll covered in cryptic runes. It spoke of a legend-a legend of a curse that could be broken only by the one who inflicted it.

With a newfound determination, I returned to my laboratory and confronted the remnants of my scientific obsession. As I dissected my last frog, a profound realization dawned upon me: it was not the frogs I had cursed, but myself. My relentless pursuit of knowledge had blinded me to the sanctity of life.

With a trembling hand, I released the frog's tiny body back into the water. As it swam away, a sense of peace washed over me. The curse of the frog had finally been broken, not by a magical incantation, but by the power of redemption.