My small frog body wakes up in a large, endless abyss. I feel like I'm floating, still, suspended in the water with the scorpion's tail digging into me, over and over and over again, clinging onto me like a prayer. But it's dark, and light, and certainly not as viscous as the water I died in. I examine my body. Exactly the same as before the scorpion stung me. No wounds. No venom. "Hello?" I nervously call out.
"Hello, little frog. We're all God." The voices come back, a harmony of cacophony. It reminds me of breeding season, with all the frogs singing out for a mate. That's the only thing I can compare it to. I haven't experienced much, as a frog from a fable.
"May I ask where I am? It's very large in here, and I'm scared."
"Don't worry, little frog. This place is infinitely big, and yet, it's also infinitely small."
"Well, it doesn't feel infinitely small," I mumble, as I am a very small frog drifting through the very large abyss, and I'm still very scared.
"Your story has reached the ears of countless humans... We've decided to reincarnate you as one, in all Our infinite kindness. Yet, in all Our infinite cruelty, we've added a catch: you will meet your scorpion again, and you will love them just as much as you did before."
"Will it hurt?" I ask. "I don't want to keep loving, if it'll only result in more pain."
"It will hurt. More than anything you've ever known, more than any scorpion you've ever loved, more than any sting you've ever felt, and more than any venom you've ever had coursing through your small, soft body."
"This feels more like a punishment than a reward." My soft ribbit sounds more like a cry.
"It'll hurt you infinitely, but it'll fill you up with infinite amounts of joy, as well... Though, little frog, have you felt much joy?"
I think of how nice it felt, feeling like I saved that scorpion. The warm, fuzzy feeling in my cold blood doesn't leave easily. Even though the bitterness of the poison is still palpable in my mouth, I can't deny I felt a glimmer of happiness, when I thought I helped someone else. Was that joy?
"I don't know," I croak out, eventually, "what is joy?"
The voices don't respond to my question.
"Well, then, once you close your eyes again, you'll wake up human. Perhaps, instead of allowing your scorpion to drag you down with them, you'll never extend your hand in the first place."
Even the thought of it is too evil. I close my eyes and shake my head, and indeed, I wake up human, with no memory of the abyss. Only a yearning for touch, for nourishment, for love. I scream out, my lungs filling with air for the first time.
One day, I'll meet my scorpion. I don't know what they'll look like, or how they'll act. But I'll reach my hand out indiscriminately, wondering if anyone will sting me. Maybe it's stupidity, or stubbornness, or maybe just a deep desire to be needed. But even so, I can't stop, and I never will stop, even when that deadly sting catches me.
Even when I’m reborn again, and again, I’ll make the same mistake. I’ll look the scorpion in the eye, and tell them I’ll help them, even as I see their tail covered in poison.
Is it a mistake, if I keep doing it again, and again, hoping this time, we’ll make it across together?