K a r l a ' s    P e n c i l

My family moved to a small town called Kentenna in the Amazon Basin rainforest when I was 16 years old. A company called simply The Constructors began building a power plant near by. The small enchanting town grew to meet the needs of the construction crew and worked with the native people to promote traditional and sustainable agro forestry. Dad told me that The Constructors stepped in to save roughly one and a half million acres of natural rainforest around this small town, also to help preserve most of the waterways and irreplaceable forest reserves. Dad was a carpenter and with all the new homes being built, he was going to be hip deep in work. Mom is a skillful wood carver. She could hardly wait to work with the many varieties of wood, which can only be found in the lush Amazon River Basin. It is home to the largest rainforest on earth and it is from her I got my artistic ability. We packed up and boarded a ship that ran from Florida, were I was born, to the Amazon Basin and then flew down the coast, and past what appeared to be a magnificent huge blue crystal octopus, with arms that reached in all directions. It was actually a bunch of rivers that flowed altogether at that one point, anyway we landed and then had to drive the rest of the way. We finally reached one of the rivers, only it was during the flood season so we had to wait for a week, until the floods receded. We pulled over and setup our camp. My younger brother, Kyle loved to go play in the river, so it fell to me to keep an eye on the little brat, and make sure he didn’t swim in the water that was too deep. I spent more time drawing in my sketchbook than I did watching him though, which was fine by both of us. He thought girls were weird; and frankly, the brat drove me up a wall. On the last day before the river was shallow enough to cross, Kyle and I went down to the river, as usual. I was wearing one of the purple and pink outfits that dad loved seeing me in, and had placed a purple ribbon in my hair. I also put the silver cross necklace with two circles joining on that dad gave me for Valentines Day. Believe it or not, at my age he actually still calls me “Daddy’s little girl.” Dad said, “The cross looks beautiful on you, and that bow looks so pretty in your hair, the two are so fitting for a beautiful young woman.” Mushy stuff I know, but that was just like dad, always seeing the best in me. I don’t really mind that much; I just wish he would see me as a young woman. When we finally got to the water Kyle ran in, pulling clothes off in the usual haphazard way that a six-year old does before going swimming. His laughter tinkled like a bell, and I grinned as I thought. He sure does love to swim. Sitting near the bank I opened my sketchbook, then glancing about I caught sight of a black, red and white long winged butterfly, perched on an orange flower. It would be perfect at the foot of a cross. I thought, and without delay, I started drawing and lost track of time, as I always do when I am concentrating. “That’s beautiful” a soft, deep voice said from behind me, breaking me out of my reverie. Shocked, I rolled off my elbows and looked back at the strangest sight I had ever seen. Standing behind me was a creature with a face like a frog that was taller than me; probably about five and a half feet in height, and it had a large scar from its left ear lobe to near the left corner of its mouth. In its slender arms rested a short spear. A few beams of sunlight broke through the tree branches and lit up the diamonds on the circles behind my cross. With each breath I took the sparkles reflected differently on the spear, while slung across its back was a small sword, and it carried a pouch on its hip, over a simple loincloth. By reflex I shrank back away from it. “Please, I don’t mean to scare you, nor am I going to hurt you.” it said. Its voice is defiantly male, rugged, and deep, yet easy to listen to. I thought, yet still did not say anything. Seeing my apprehensive glance at his spear, he set it on the ground. I swallowed hard, and then forced out, “Who are you?” “My friends call me Tazon, for the soft sound my feet make. I’m a Frog,” he said wryly, and then added, “I was out hunting on this side of the river, and saw you drawing. I love pretty things, and just wanted to see your picture. It is almost as pretty as you are.” I was transfixed, and sure, my face was glowing red, as I thought. This Frogman thinks my drawing is pretty and in addition, me even more so. This can’t be happening! Yet moistening my lips I responded politely. “It’s just a little sketch I drew.” “Then your little sketch, as you call it, is very good.” He said chuckling. It sounded almost like a soft croak. His laughter was infectious, and kind of funny, and you guessed it, I started giggling after a moment of listening to him. We laughed, and then I heard Kyle getting out of the water. I looked at Tazon for a moment and sighed. “You had better go. My brother is coming and he would like nothing better then to catch you and take you home with us.” “Very well; but will you be here again tomorrow? I would like to see some more of your sketches.” “If the river is still too deep for us to cross, I will be.” I found myself saying for he was a very likable strange creature. “Then, I will see you tomorrow!” With that, he did a somersault into the nearby brush. I swear I did not hear him land. I was still looking in the direction he had left, as Kyle ran up to me. “Hey Sis; what’cha doin?” He said, looking at my sketchbook. “Eeww; a butterfly and cross! Why don’t you draw something cool, like this lizard I caught in the river?” He stated, handing me a slimy black lizard, wet from the water. I swiftly threw it as far away from me as I could, as I screamed, “Kyle!” He darted away from me, with an impish grin on his face. “When I get my hands on you …” I snapped, swiftly wiping my hands on my hips as I glared at him. He just smiled, stuck out his tongue and rocked his head side to side playfully. Disgusted I huffed, glanced down at my sketchbook and gasped appalled at what I saw. A blob of slime had fallen from the lizard onto my butterfly! “You’ve ruined my picture, you little brat!” I screamed. I picked up all my drawing stuff, and then chased him all the way back to our camp.