The frog in Karla's hand was no larger than her jacket buttons. It's golden browns were almost camouflaged on her outstretched hand. Even its eyes were the same hues, only more glossy, arching in their radial pattern. Its skin was as bumpy as a winter road after the snow-plough has laid the gritty salt, the brown pigment all the darker over the peaks. Then without warning it leapt and Karla shrieked in surprise. For such a tiny beast it was a great leap of faith into the unknown.
As Harry threw rocks into the lake, his mind muddier than the shallow waters had become, he noticed a frog. It's eyes were uglier than slime dipped marbles but he was entranced all the same. As he took in its form, almost colourless in the gloom, he thought about nothing at all. Then all at once the frog disappeared into the dark water leaving the slightest of expanding surface ripples. As the water stilled his mind reactivated, the same intractable issues turning without end.
Against the mottled grey and green of the rock the frog was almost as invisible as a seahorse on coral, albeit in more sombre hues. It was almost as large as a toad but with smooth skin and eyes the colour of stagnant pond water.
The frog on the lily pad propped itself high on its front legs and puffed out its chest so far it was almost see-through like over stretched bubble gum. It looked so silly and cute at the same time, then came the chorus spilling out into the deepening darkness of the evening. Already its virescent hue was greyish and from every part of the lake came the singing croaks of its brethren.
The frog in the tank was as green as Alfie's new t-shirt from Walthamstow market, vivid lime, so unapologetically bright. Lisa tapped at the glass and it hopped into the water, pushing with its back legs until it reached the other side. She wasn't sure if it was looking her way with those yellow eyes, punctuated by pupils blacker than her school shoes, but she waved at it anyway - instantly feeling foolish. Then she caught sight of its toes, so long for the size of the foot. It was like a perfect little fly-eating alien. Seconds later Johnny was tugging at her sleeve, "Oi, let's go."
Ben sat cross legged by the pond, the surface was almost without a ripple in the still summer air and darkening as evening drew closer. He was about to leave when he spied a pair of eyes sticking up out of the water near the left side bank. A frog! He grinned and moved closer. It was quite camouflaged in the pond but no doubt it would be harder to see in foliage, green and brown as it was. The frog swam closer to the bank, fat legs pushing it along. It wasn't at all like the fragile ex-tadpoles of early spring, it had a robust look to it, like it had packed on a few ounces in "middle age." When it reached the bank it crawled out and almost instantly Ben lost sight of it.
Jeanie stopped. The path ahead was suddenly alive with the hopping of small brown frogs no bigger than a dollar. She grinned. Ordinarily she wouldn't have a chance of catching one but there were dozens of them, how could she miss? She crouched down and as she scooped one up she felt it lie cold against her skin. "Funny," she thought, she hadn't considered herself to be particularly warm but to this frog's cool and delicate skin she must feel like she had a furnace inside of her. She opened her hand gently, allowing the late spring sunshine to fall on the earthy creature that lay captured in her fingers. She felt a frisson of awe to see its eyes, sticking up and glossy like any story book prince-to-be. It's legs were hunched, ready to leap. When it hopped she let out a squeal, though she knew the frog would she was still startled when it did. She watched it go, hopping frantically for the plant cover at the sides of the path. Then she took a step forwards, watching, hoping to repeat the experience.
The frog's skin was the colour of the forest floor in fall, fading green mixed with so many browns. There was a tightness to his skin except for a crinkle at his compressed legs, muscles tense in readiness to flee.