A friend of mine, Alan J. Martin and I, were working on a story together out at Loy Lake Park. We prefer the lake for not only its view, but its lack of modern distractions. The sound of Hwy 75 is at a minimum. The birds soar through the air. People fish from boats in solitude. All in all, it makes a good place to flesh out ideas and stir the creative juices.
Twilight had come. The orange glow of lampposts had gradually brightened. The eastern sky had dimmed enough so that the western sky glowed like a beacon.
A laptop shined brightly from a picnic table. We both walked back and forth in discussion as we worked through a scene. The scene dealt with an island and a strange battle between man and beast. At least, that was what we wanted the future readers to think was going on.
It was a great evening. We had just finished another intriguing plot to the story. We knew it was time to wrap it up. It was then we heard the singing. Yes, singing. A song that only nature could have composed to announce the twilight we knew was coming.
Near some overgrowth that looked black against a fading sky, the creatures of the evening stirred. Reflective wings caught the light. Were they dragonflies or faeries? The wind flicked the leaves of the nearby trees with low rustles, or was it the voices of spirits watching over the lake? An ensemble formed.
I was enthralled by the sound. It was rich and full of life. It spoke of things man in his wisdom had never imagined. It spoke of a future that may far outreach his own hand.
I whipped out my phone and hit video. Unfortunately, I was only able to catch the ending of the song, and the lake spirits decided at that moment to bow out, but it was still amazing.
So now I present, The Frogs. Maybe I can get them to sing a second chorus!
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