This year, whether you’re young or old, try your hand at illustrating the chapters of this story, told in turn by six authors. And maybe see your drawing published in our magazine. This month, it’s Jérémy, 9 years old, from Paris, who created images to go with Ximo Abadía’s words.
Boating on the lake 6.
A thousand frogs by Ximo Abadia
Tiny crabs play hide-and-seek around Itipulco’s feet. Itaki doesn’t say a word. The only sound is the sound of the lake. Itaki takes Itipulco’s hand and together they head into the heart of the island. Their footprints disappear in the great jungle. The padding of their bare feet mingles with the song of strange-colored birds. Dragonflies come to rest on Itipulco’s hair. Little eyes observe them from behind the trees. Itipulco looks up and sees hundreds of monkeys leaping from branch to branch. They arrive at an old temple eaten away by neglect, creepers painting its stones green, countless branches from big trees growing out of the windows, their enormous roots surrounding the walls like snakes. Itipulco and Itaki walk through the temple and huge, moss-covered stone heads smile at them as they pass. Then they come to a lake, where a thousand of frogs, the temple guardians, eye them from under the water. Suddenly the ground moves and leaves rain down from the sky. The monkeys flee, the frogs disappear, the birds stop singing. Only the silence remains, and a strong smell of sulfur in the air. Suddenly, they are enveloped in mist, and all Itipulco can see is Itaki’s hand. He grasps it firmly, closes his eyes, and they walk on. After a while Itaki stops. Itipulco opens his eyes, looks at the sky and, astonished, sees before him a great volcano that is weeping yellow lava. He turns to his sister. She looks different. Her pale skin now glows with color, her translucent eyes have turned indigo blue and her black hair is a fiery red. She is beautiful.
- “Where are we going?” asks Itipulco nervously.
- “Inside the volcano,” Itaki answers.
To be continued.