Boom

Bramble hopped over, his own leafy twigs rustling softly in the cool night breeze. "What do you mean by one size?" Bramble asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

The frog grinned, his wide mouth stretching nearly from one side of his face to the other. "Watch," the frog said, his throat swelling slightly. "Or, more importantly, listen."

He leaned in close to Bramble, so close that Bramble could smell the damp pond-water on his green skin. Then, he dropped his voice to the tiniest, most delicate whisper.

"Once," he breathed, so softly that Bramble had to strain his ears, "there was a sound in the dark that nobody could explain."

Bramble’s branches prickled with sudden, unexpected tension. He found himself leaning so far forward that his nose nearly touched the frog’s slippery shoulder. That tiny whisper had reeled him in like a heavy fish on a strong silk line.

Suddenly, the frog filled his green chest until he looked like a fully inflated balloon. His voice came out big and round, echoing off the high stone cliffs behind them.

"And it was the SEA, my friends—the whole wide SEA, come all the way up the valley to say hello!"

Bramble jumped backward, his leaves clattering together like a handful of dry wooden spoons. The sudden blast of sound had startled him, but it also made his heart beat faster.

"My name is Boom," the frog said, returning his voice to a normal, friendly level. "Soft pulls them close. Loud wakes them up." He tapped his chest. "You point at the important parts with your volume."

Bramble rubbed his twigs together, still feeling the pleasant tingle of the frog's sudden performance.

"Boom," Bramble said, his voice still a little breathless from the shock of the sound. "I run a weekly listening-circle where the younger forest creatures gather to practice their storytelling."

"They tell tales out loud, but they all tell them at one flat, boring size."

"Every single word sounds exactly like the one that came right before it."

"Their giants are tiny, their secrets are loud, and their whispers are completely gone." He looked at Boom with a sudden, bright spark of hope in his dark eyes. "Would you join my circle and teach them how to change their size?"

Boom laughed, a warm, rolling sound that vibrated right through the damp log they sat on. "I would be glad to help," Boom said, blinking his large, golden eyes in the firelight. "I have every size of voice there is, from a tiny hush to a thunderous roll. I will gladly lend those sizes to your young storytellers."

So Boom joined the group the very next evening. He sat quietly on a smooth stone, watching the young animals gather under the twilight sky. The stories around the fire were never flat again.

Now, when Bramble teaches his students about volume, he always calls on Boom to demonstrate. "Tell us a story," Bramble says to the circle, "but find the soft parts first."

On a chilly Tuesday, a young hedgehog named Pip stood up to try her luck. She was terribly nervous, and her sharp brown quills clicked together like dry pine needles. Pip began to tell a tale about a great secret hidden deep inside a mountain. When she reached the secret itself, she looked at Boom, who gave her an encouraging nod.

Remembering his lesson, Pip dropped her voice down to a tiny, rustling whisper. The effect of her quiet voice was immediate and powerful. The entire circle of animals scooted closer, their ears twitching to catch the quiet words. Then, when the secret finally burst out into the open, she let her voice swell. It grew big and round, filling the clearing with a sudden, joyful noise. The startled listeners leaned back, their faces bright with delight at the sudden change.

"You felt that shift, didn't you?" Boom rumbled, his deep voice warming the cool air. "But here is the secret trick that most storytellers completely miss when they perform."

He leaned forward, his wide face catching the orange glow of the dancing flames. "The loud part only works because of the soft parts that you place around it."

"If you shout the whole way through, nobody can tell which part actually matters."

"Loud-all-the-time is exactly the same as flat-all-the-time, and it tires the ears." He patted his round, green belly with a webbed hand and smiled at them. "Save your biggest voice for your biggest moment, and keep the rest soft."

A young squirrel sitting in the very back of the circle raised a trembling paw. "What if I am simply too shy to ever make a loud sound?" she asked softly.

"Then start with the soft," Boom answered kindly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Soft is incredibly powerful on its own, and a whisper can hold a whole room. You do not have to be the loudest frog in the entire pond to succeed. You only have to change your size, giving your story some big and some small."