Read Online Oddest of All by Bruce Coville - Free Book Online Page A

sinking!
    Quicksand!
was his first, terrified thought.
I’ve stumbled into quicksand!
    Then something else happened, something so appallingly weird that it drove the thought of quicksand from his mind. He saw a virtual army of deformed frogs swimming toward him, some with missing legs, others with five, six, or even seven legs; some were absurdly small, others horrifyingly large; some had split faces or extra eyes, or were weirdly colored. Dennis cried out in horror as the little monstrosities clambered onto his shoulders, then his head. The clammy flesh of their bellies pressing against the skin of his face drove him mad with fear. They seemed to be weighing him down, pushing him into the soft, sucking bottom of the swamp.
    Dennis’s screams were cut off as his head went under the surface. The muck—well past his thighs now, nearly to his waist—was holding him, clutching him. Wild with terror, he flailed his arms, churning the water like a propeller.
    It did no good.
    He opened his eyes. Through the dimly lit water, green and murky, he saw that the swarm of frogs was growing thicker, more dense. Hundreds—no,
thousands
—of frogs were swimming closer, pushing him deeper into the swamp.
    Choking on his fear, Dennis continued his descent into the muddy bottom. The ooze, more frightening than mere water, crept up his neck. When he felt it on his chin he opened his mouth to scream again. A tiny frog slipped inside. Revolted, he spit it out and clamped his lips shut.
    The muck crept past his mouth, beyond his nose.
    Finally it closed above his head.
    Â 
    When Dennis woke he was lying facedown on a patch of damp grass. Insects buzzed around him. Under their music he heard the song of frogs—the trill of spring peepers, the tenor tones of the small frogs he used to catch in the swamp, the deep baritone of the great bulls. He rolled over, then yelped in fear.
    Instead of the distant blue sky, Dennis saw above him a vast expanse of muddy brown, seemingly no more than a few hundred feet away. Directly overhead the brown was replaced by a translucent green circle. The dim light filtering through the circle made him wonder if it was the bottom of the swamp.
    He took a deep breath, testing the air. It was damp but pleasant. Tree-sized mushrooms grew all around him. Dennis pushed himself to his feet, delighted at finding himself still alive. “Unless this is where you go after you die,” he muttered uneasily.
    â€œTrust me, you’re quite fine,” said a deep, throaty voice.
    Dennis spun in the direction of the voice. Sitting several feet away was a frog the size of a golden retriever. Its bulging eyes were the size of Ping-Pong balls.
    â€œWho are
you?”
cried Dennis.
    â€œYour guide. The king wants to see you. Follow me.”
    Without waiting for Dennis to respond, it began leaping toward the mushroom forest.
    â€œSure,” said Dennis. “Follow you. Why not? Since I’m either dead or dreaming, I might as well.”
    The frog, clearly not listening, continued leaping into the forest. Not wanting to be left behind, Dennis scrambled to catch up.
    Â 
    The path they followed curved snakelike through the mushrooms. At some point the oppressively low “sky” was replaced by a decently distant one, which would have made Dennis feel better if not for the fact that it was bright green.
    The sun—or whatever they called the glowing ball that lit the sky here—was green, too, the light green of early spring grass.
    Dennis wanted to question his guide. But though the huge frog never got out of sight, it always managed to stay far enough ahead that Dennis wasn’t able to talk to it.
    Eventually the mushroom forest gave way to a vast swamp.
    â€œAwesome,” whispered Dennis, staring at ferns that grew as tall as trees and lily pads the size of the dining room carpet. A jewel-eyed dragonfly buzzed past, its wings as long as Dennis’s arms.
    Still