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But outside on the veranda his parents' arguing voices dissolved into the dark hot air and chorus of crickets allowing Jimmy to sink into his fairy world, into a world he wished would come true.

As he wandered through his life he constantly looked for magic beans to grow a beanstalk, and in the dusty town he looked up at the tall red bricked apartment blocks waiting for the fall of Rapunzel's Locks. At night he left his ragged clothes beside his bed hoping that the Elves would come and make him something new, something to spare him from the taunts of other children.

Crack!
The back door spat open.
"Jimmy what the hell you doin' out here again. Get in." Smack!
Fee Fie Foe Fum.

The morning broke across Jimmy's face through a single rip in the curtains. A solitary ray of sunshine. He pulled on his clothes and crept downstairs to find some breakfast, and with an apple in hand, he stole out of the house, ambling across the parched lawn towards the bus stop. He stood next to the dry road awaiting the school bus and subsequent abuse, clutching the book of fairy tales to his chest like a shield.

He returned eight hours later, as the sun was beginning to drop into an orange pool, having learnt nothing more than that he was a piece of shit. That night he sat on the veranda on a long white bench cradling his book of fairy tales, alone.

Then one night, after bending the corner of another read page, he looked up to see a big fat brown frog perched on the balustrade of the veranda. Its big round eyes staring at him. It gave him a watery blink.

"Hello" said Jimmy.

The frog sat still, fat webbed feet spread.

"Hello" he said again.

The frog sat still, back legs folded.

Jimmy looked down at the book in his lap and then at the frog. He began to read out loud.

"Once upon a time there was a beautiful Princess who was looking for a handsome Prince..."

The frog swallowed and sat still. The perfect listener.

For the whole of that summer it became a regular evening meeting with Jimmy reading and the frog sitting. The frog never moved yet always returned and for the first time Jimmy felt a soft breeze of happiness stir inside him.

Jimmy ran home from school now, skipping across the light greens and yellows of the faded lawn anticipating the set of the sun and the awakening of night-life.

But all this was to change. One night he sat as usual on the long white bench, whistling, waiting for the frog, waiting to read another page. Yet this night the frog never came. He waited all night but the frog never came. He did not read a single page. He did not fold a single page corner, because the frog did not come.

The next morning was hot and Jimmy left for he bus stop. He stood at the side of the road as the sun beat down on him. The road shimmered in the heat. Then he noticed the frog stretched out on the asphalt, long thin, flat and baked. He picked it up by one leg holding it between a finger and thumb, marveling at how something so fat and wet could have been transformed into something so hard and dry. As the school bus approached Jimmy opened up the book of fairy tales and carefully placed the frog into the book as a bookmark. He would never fold the corner of a page again.

Submitted by Nicholas Prothero