Read Online A Fairy Tale by Jonas Bengtsson - Free Book Online Page B

dad takes a screwdriver from his bag and then a hammer. A couple of floors below us a door opens; we hear footsteps, but they’re going down, not up. My dad slips the screwdriver in between the door and the door frame and holds the hammer ready in his other hand. He looks at his watch.
    â€œFive, four, three, two, one.”
    It gets more noisy. People shout, stamp their feet, blow their horns.
    â€œHappy New Year,” my dad says, and whacks the screwdriver with the hammer. It digs into the wood. He hits it again; the sound is drowned out by a thousand others.
    My dad forces open the door and we walk down a narrow passage with wooden doors on both sides. A small ladder at the end of the passage leads to a hatch in the ceiling. It’s locked with a padlock, which also receives a couple of blows from the hammer.
    We climb up on the roof and come out next to the chimney. The roof slopes to both sides, but there’s a flat area in the middle, three to four metres wide. My dad takes a blanket from his bag and spreads it on the ground; then he takes out more blankets and wraps us up in them. Finally he produces a Thermos of hot chocolate from his bag. We lie on our backs next to each other as we watch the fireworks. The city explodes in light; I cover my ears while I laugh. Around us rockets fall into the gutters.

1988

T he frog stares at them. It’s enormous; its skin is green and knobbly.
    â€œSo you want to get across?” it asks, and grins.
    Its echoing laughter stinks of rotten water; its jaw is so big it could easily swallow a car. The King and the Prince look at the lake. The far shore has disappeared in the thick fog.
    â€œI won’t eat you,” the frog says. “I promise.”
    The King and the Prince look at each other. Should they do it, should they trust the frog, run the risk?
    I lie on my bed, holding my breath. The toilet being flushed downstairs becomes a huge pike splashing about in the murky water. Next door’s television becomes birdsong in the trees behind us.
    â€œCouldn’t they just have walked around the lake?” I ask my dad.
    â€œIt would’ve taken them years. The Prince would’ve grown just as old as the King is now. And the King would’ve turned into a very old man who couldn’t see or hear anything. They’d never have found the White Queen. They’d never have managed to kill her and lift the curse.”
    â€œWeren’t they scared? Really scared?”
    â€œYes, of course. But it’s a great deal easier to be brave when you don’t have a choice.”
    The King climbs up onto the frog; it’s not easy, the frog’s skin is slippery and slimy and there’s nothing to hold on to. When he sits straddling its back, the King helps the Prince up. The frog tenses its thigh muscles, its whole body quivers. Then it jumps. Water splashes around their ears. The frog takes strong strokes with its big hind legs. The shore is quickly reduced to a thin line behind them. The sound of birdsong back on land grows fainter and fainter before disappearing altogether. They’re surrounded by silence; there’s only the sound of the frog’s swimming strokes. The fog settles around them, everything turns white. Then the frog starts to tread water.
    â€œI’m hungry,” it says. “I’m really rather hungry.”
    â€œYou promised not to eat us,” the Prince says.
    â€œI prefer to be a full liar,” the frog replies, and starts to open its mouth.
    â€œYou can have our packed lunch,” the Prince says.
    The frog considers this and then it nods. Ripples form in the water.
    â€œYou’ll probably keep for awhile longer, anyway.”
    The King and the Prince open their bags and throw eggs, sausages, and red apples sideways into the frog’s mouth. It chews and swallows. Then it swims on. My dad turns off the light, pulls the blanket around me, tucks me in.
    â€œSleep tight,” he