A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river.
βTo be honest,β said the desert rain frog. βIβm the wrong kind of frog for that.β
βOh,β said the scorpion.
βI was hoping to find someone to carry me across, myself.β It admitted.
βOh,β The scorpion said. βWell, we can wait together.β
And they sat, and spoke, and when a turtle happened to pass along, they both ventured together, and the scorpion was too busy sharing words to ever think of stinging.
βActually,β said the scorpion, as it climbed onto the frogβs back, βMy sting is harmless.β
βOh really?β Said the frog, as it began to swim.
βYes,β the scorpion waved the small stinger about. βThe poison is useless to anything larger than a beetle. I canβt threaten you with it at all, you see, so you donβt really need to worry about it at all.β
The frog, now freed from the fear of death, began preparing to dive.
βAlthough,β the scorpion continued as it felt the frog slow down, βdo not think me entirely defenceless.β
βWhy not?β Said the frog. βAll you have is your claws. And they arenβt sharp enough to pierce my skin.β
βNo, they are not,β agreed the scorpion, getting a good hold of the frogβs shoulders. βBut they are strong. They need to be, to hold my prey so my weak venom has time to work.β
βBut they will not kill me.β
βNo. But there are other ways to hurt.β The scorpion tightened its grip, letting the teeth of its claws sink into the skin.
βYou will drown me, of course, but my claws will remain locked. My drowned corpse will hang over your shoulders, right here, claws buried in you. And everyone who sees you will see it. And they will see my frail little body, and my weak little stinger. And you will drown me, yes, but for the rest of your life everyone will know that you took the life of a creature that was no danger to you for no greater sin than that you did not want to grant them passage. You will never escape the weight of me on your back, waiting to be carried to the afterlife you delivered me to.β
The frog was silent, for a while, before it continued to swim. βI think I would have preferred you with a stinger that worked.β
The scorpion relaxed its grip. βAnd I would have preferred to not have to use it.β
βDo you know how many times weβve done this?β Asked the frog, eyes flicking back to its passenger. βI canβt remember how long itβs been.β
βA million lives.β Purred the scorpion, claws nestled up to the frogβs neck. βA million lives now, with this one. And it never matters until weβre here.β
βIβm glad itβs us.β Said the frog, letting the tide sweep it away. βIβm glad even after a million lives, we always find each other.β
The scorpion clung tight, even as the water seeped into its carapace. βIβd never die with anyone else, my love.β
Hopelessly entangled, they faded into oblivion.
A chicken stood at the edge of a road, watching the cars go by.
βIs this all there is?β It asked.
βI donβt know.β Said the fox across from it, brushing some grass from itβs foot.
βBut it might be nice to find out.β
-but no sooner had the frog gotten halfway across the river did a great catfish rise up, mouth so wide they could not escape.
βOh, foolish frog and foolish bug.β It said, voice full of pity as it swallowed them both. βYour eyes glued to the most obvious threat, did you never think there were greater things to fear in a river as deep and wide as this?β
And the catfish swam off, to find more frogs to devour.
βSorry?β The scorpion paused, confused. βSting you? Why on earth would I do that?
βWell,β said the frog. βItβs in your nature to, isnβt it?β
βNo, not at all!β The scorpion said, voice tinged with insult. βWe donβt run around stabbing everything we see. Thatβs a good way to start a fight you canβt win. A stinger is just for catching food and fending off predators, really. Itβs no more my nature to sting everything as it is your nature to drown everything. And you donβt do that, do you!β
The frog scowled, petulant at the tone. βWell, the scorpion I usually see here almost always stings meβ¦β
βThat seems like youβre projecting problems with one scorpion onto every scorpion you meet.β Said the scorpion. βIβm not really sure I trust you to take me across the river, frankly. Do you know if thereβs another frog who could help?β
The frog grumbled, and slipped into the water.
The chicken stood on the banks of the river with itβs children. A fox sat on the other bank, with a bag of corn.
βHoy, chicken.β Shouted the fox. βDo you ever think you might be stuck in a rut?β
βWhatβs it to you?β The chicken said, flapping a wing in annoyance. βMy life is my own business, fox.β
The fox shrugged, pawing at the corn. βI just feel like I canβt get out of this cycle,β it said with a sigh. βLike my life is stuck on rails.β
βOn rails?β The scorpion asked. βWhat do you mean?β
βMy whole life is just this river-β
βAnd it feels like it doesnβt change. It feels like Iβm always just here. In the river, with you.β
βIs it such a bad place to be?β Asked the fox.
βHow long do you think the river has been here?β Asked the scorpion.
The frog thought about that until the poison had seeped into its bones.
βAs long as us,β it whispered, as its lungs gave out. βAs long as weβve needed it.β
βYouβre not swimming right.β Said the scorpion, pinching the frogβs arm.
βYou need to kick round with the back legs, push with the front, like this-β gently, it pushed the frogβs limbs into the correct position.
βOh, thank you.β Said the frog. βIβm no good at this. Iβve never been a frog before.β
βYouβre doing brilliantly, my dear.β The scorpion said, trying to reassure. βI would have taught you earlier if I could have.β
βAnd I would have taught you to walk.β The frog laughed, kicking much stronger now. βIf only Iβd known you didnβt know! I saw you stumbling over the sands there.β
βIβve never had so many legs!β The scorpion wailed. βHow do you manage them all? And the eyes!β
They were not making it across the river very fast.
βI donβt mind only having two eyes.β The frog admitted. βI could get used to it.β
Despite the tutoring, the frog was getting exhausted, weak muscles failing in strong currents.
The scorpion tried to kick at the water, but its frail carapace only dredged in the currents, dragging them both down further.
βOh, weβre no good at it this way around.β The scorpion said with a shake of its tail, claws clinging so strongly to the frogβs gossamer skin that it ripped open, spilling the entrails like ruby ribbons into the depths.
The frog laughed, choking on the water it didnβt know how to breathe. βI canβt swim, and you wonβt sting! Oh, how our natures fail us still!β
And the river claimed them both once more.
βDo you remember a time before the riverbank?β Asked the fox.
βDo you remember anything after it?β The Chicken countered, head stuck in the bag of corn as it ate its fill. βIs there anything but the pursuit of what we will never grasp?β
βMaybe we will grasp it,β the foxβs voice was tinged with hope, tail tucked tightly around its legs. βMaybe one day, we will be more than our natures, and we will not have to cross the river again.β
βI like the thrill of it.β Said the chicken. βIβd miss the thrill of it.β
The fox sighed, and lowered its head down to the chicken, already doomed to bite. βBut still, wouldnβt it be nice?β
But alas, the rains had been heavy, and the river bank had become swollen and wide.
The frog kicked for what felt like an eternity, the scorpion holding steady on its back.
Eventually it could swim no longer, and its legs seized up, as it gasped for air.
βIβm sorry, my love-β the frog wheezed. βI donβt think I can make it-β
βItβs okay.β The scorpionβs voice was soft with sadness, knowing now that it was doomed to die. βI didnβt know it would be so hard. Iβm sorry I did this to you. Iβm sorry I couldnβt help.β
βItβs not your fault,β said the frog, as the currents began to sweep them both downstream. βI wanted to help, I- I really thought I could get you there, I, we were so close -β
βWe really were, werenβt we?β The scorpionβs hold on the frog was loosening, as its head swam from lack of oxygen. βWe almost made it, we really didβ¦β
The frog wailed in grief as the scorpionβs body was torn away, swallowed by the churning rapids.
A scorpion walked across an old riverbed. The smooth pebbles had long laid bare, the river dried up thousands of years ago.
It paused in the middle, overcome with a strange pain in its chest, and decided to turn back.
It felt wrong to cross this river alone.
βWhere do you think the cars go?β Asked the fox.
The chicken watched a car drive by, seeing the shadowy shapes move within. βI try not to think about it. I want to be happy with my lot in life.β
-and no sooner had the frog gotten halfway across the river when the scorpion tapped its stinger against the frogβs back to get its attention.
βHey,β said the scorpion. βIβm not really in that much of a rush, and itβs a beautiful day. Why donβt we just go up the river instead? Iβve always wanted to try standing on a lilypad.β
βSure, if youβd like.β Said the frog. βI donβt have any plans for the day.
And while the river remained uncrossed, neither of them were unhappy about this.
βWhen did you know you loved me?β Asked the turtle, as the scorpion clung onto its back, hiding from the deep currents of the river.
The scorpion winced as a wave shook them. βOh, from the start.β it said, shaking water from its tail. βOr near enough. Iβd never met a frog before. And even though you didnβt know me, you laid your life on the line for me. For hope that the impossible was possible.β
The turtle considered that, thinking back across its many lives.
βI donβt think I knew I loved you until recently.β The turtle admitted, lifting its head from the water so its voice could be soft. βIt took time, I think, to know. But that said, why else would I come back, time and time again to the same spot of the same river?β
βYou have a world of rivers you could be in, my love.β The scorpion agreed. βAnd yet I always wait for you here. And you always come.β
βIβve never been as vulnerable as Iβve been with you.β Even as the water licked up its shell, the turtle continued to swim. βIβd never trust my life to anyone else.β
βHereβs to us,β said the scorpion, raising its stinger. βAnd the river.β
βHereβs to us.β Said the turtle, raising a flipper to sting. βI hope we always find each other.β
βWell here we are,β said the frog to the scorpion. βThe other side.β
βHere we are.β The scorpion agreed, slowly climbing off its back. βThank you, for all of this.β
βThank you for choosing me.β Said the frog. βThank you for chaining my lives together. For helping me remember the infinity of Us.β
The scorpion didnβt answer, simply looking up, letting the sun warm its carapace.
βIβve never really left the river.β The frog took another step onto the bank. βItβsβ¦ nice.β
The scorpion turned. For a moment, the frog felt the surge of adrenaline as it felt a pinch on its skin, only to find the scorpion had clasped its claw around their hand. βCome with me.β It pleaded, voice soft with urgency. βCome with me, and donβt say no. I wonβt leave this river without you. We can see the other side together.β
Those claws could slice, but they were only firm. The river was only the river. But from the banks the frog could see a jungle of lush green, vibrant with life beyond its knowledge. It laughed. βIβve always wondered what it was like out there.β
And the river was silent, with no moral questions to burden it.