Mr. Frog and His Mahogany Clock

Brief introduction：

The book consists of nine fantasy fairy tales， which are warm and delicate， pure and moving. The stories in the book conveyed a lot of information. For example， in A Wonderful Concert， the little girl who catches a fever can no longer communicate with others clearly， but she finds the confidence of life in the “wonderful concert”. In Mr. Frog and His Mahogany Clock， Mr. Frog has to carry the mahogany clock to accept his fate because he is immersed in the memory of the past， and the young man who knows the charm of the mahogany clock destroys it， saving Mr. Frog who was struggling under the weight of the memories ...

About the author：

Blue Key is the pseudonym of Li Junzheng， who is a member of the Chongqing Writers Association. He is the father of two little girls and is happy to tell the children the fairy tales that he created. He has won the Bing Xin Children’s Literature New Book Award， the “Golden Whale Award” of the White Whale Original Fantasy Children’s Literature， the bronze award and excellence award of the Reading Friends Cup National Children’s Literature Creation Competition; he has twice won the silver prize in the National “Hot Spring Cup” Fantasy World Short Story Contest of Children’s Literature Competition.

I

It was an ordinary， quiet town with mountains behind it and a small river winding through it. It was a late autumn evening and there were very few people on the streets. In a house in the last row of the town， which was closest to the mountain， lived a young man.

“It’s so cold！” said the young man to himself， and he threw a few handfuls of firewood into the burning fireplace.

Suddenly there was a rhythmic knock on the door.

“Who would come by at this time！” The young man opened the door a crack.

Outside the door stood a stout， chubby fellow with a white towel wrapped around his head and wrapped around his neck several times， showing only two extremely round eyes.

“Well， to get straight to the point， I’m a frog. Look here.” He held out his hands.

Sure enough， it was a frog’s palm： it had only four fingers， and they were connected to each other with thin webs.

“I just really don’t want to hibernate. It’s getting cold， you know， and I have to find someone to take me in， or find a cave to pass out before my blood freezes. Anyway， please let me in and get warm.”

The young man looked outside at the frog， whose legs were shaking like getting an electric shock. He opened the door and made a gesture to let him in.

The frog couldn’t wait to jump into the house and crouched down on the blanket in front of the fireplace. He leaned forward as far as he could as if he wanted to plunge into the burning flames. He did not move for half an hour. At last， he stood up in great comfort.

II

“You’re a kind young man，” said the frog and he straightened himself up. “Let me stay here for the whole winter. Of course， I will give you a gift in return.” He pulled off his grubby， tightly wrapped robes and pointed to an old mahogany clock that hung over his gnarled， bluish shoulders.

The young man looked at the wooden clock， which was as old as an unearthed relic， with suspicion.

“Mr. Frog，” the young man wisely thought of such a polite and decent title， “it is not very convenient for you to go out carrying such a clock.”

Mr. Frog seemed to see his disdain. He started to unhook the clock from his back slowly. Because there were so many ropes between it and himself， with a great carefulness， he spent nearly half an hour before presenting it to the young man perfectly. The mahogany clock was dark red all around， nearly half a metre high， and its hands were silver. At the top of the clock is carved a small man holding a pair of binoculars in both hands. Although the sculpture is only about the size of a man’s hand， his clothes and features are immaculately exquisite.

“It’s a good clock.” The young man looked up and down at the clock and said. “Is it for me？”

Mr. Frog showed a satisfied expression and sat down cross-legged on the carpet with a big stretch.

“I am not going to give my clock to you. It’s my life. Do you see that place？ There it is！”

The young man looked in the direction Mr. Frog pointed. There was a faint handprint on the mahogany at the base， right under the clock.

“Is it this handprint？”

“Well， put your hand on it.”

The young man was secretly amused and wanted to see what the trick was. So he put his hand on it slowly.

III

All of a sudden， the young man was in a field lined with blue platycodon flowers. The blue platycodon blossoms extend all the way to the horizon， meeting the deep blue sky.

“What a magic clock！” He thought excitedly.

The sun was not far away in the sky， bright but not dazzling. Far and near butterflies floated leisurely in the sea of blue platycodon blossoms， single or in pairs. Here， even the passing wind was careful.

All of a sudden， the young man seemed to hear a train whistle in distance. Sure enough， a dark green train passed slowly through the sea of flowers in front of him. The train was full of people dressed in different ways， talking with relaxed expressions and pointing out of the window from time to time. Suddenly， the young man saw a girl in blue sitting in one of the windows. She waved desperately at him and held a pale yellow scarf in her hand. It seemed that she was saying something eagerly.

Ah！ Isn’t the girl he once loved so much？ Five years ago， she wanted to study abroad and reluctantly chose to break up with the young man. On the day of parting， he gave the girl the scarf that he had spent half a year knitting， and saw her off on the train ...

“Stay here， stay here！ ” The young man shouted what should have been said. He shouted desperately and chased， making large patches of flowers trampled to the left and right.

“Dang！ Dang！” The great reverberation of the pendulum came from the sky.

The young man returned to the crackling room with a tearful face that had not yet recovered from the pain.

“See？” Mr. Frog sat on the carpet with a burning cigarette butt in his hand and a twinkle in his eye.

“I saw a day five years ago， and things happened all the same again， but I couldn’t change anything.”

“That’s just the memory you want to see the most. This is a clock that allows you to live in memory for a while. As you can see， the real past.” Mr. Frog blew a big smoke ring at the ceiling. “But you can’t change anything. It’s just memories. You were in there a good two hours just now. Well， you should let me stay at least a couple of months， and that’s the deal.” Is there anything more exciting than living in a memory？ The young man and Mr. Frog made a deal.

Mr. Frog and His Mahogany Clock

Blue Key

Southwest China Normal University Press

August 2020

39.80 （CNY）