Frog Hunting Adventures

I crawled along the muddy ground, feeling the dark mud squish beneath my hands and knees, soaking though my jeans. I tasted grit mixed with PB & J, so I spit, saliva hanging from the side of my mouth. I swiped it away with my sleeve like a real adventurer would. That was when I saw it, with my arm halfway to my face, ready to attack the spittle dripping from the side of my mouth. It was a puddle, rainbow in color and shimmered like silk in the sun. I inched towards it carefully. I took a small plastic shovel from my pack and dropped it in, hearing the small 'plop' it made. I knew it was bottomless. So I took my finger and hovered it over the top. No shadow, no reflection. How curious. I wondered. So I took my finger and lightly brused the puddle's edge. I was sucked into the puddle, literally, like juice through a juice box straw. Nothing. Color! Everything! Black and white. Blank. I hit the ground with a soft 'thunk' into pure white sand, and looked up towards the sun. Except it was a moon, and there were two. I blinked. Again. Again. Blink blink. A small village came into shape, everything was grey, black, or white like an old photo. I laid down in the sand and tried to take it all in. Where am I? Why am I here? Who am I? I wondered. Soft thunks in the sand informed me that someone was approaching, quickly. Thunk thunk thunk. I rolled over and glanced in the sound's general direction. A huge Arab stood above me, blocking out the sun. He had my little red shovel in my hand, it still being red in an all colorless world. The Arab looked like a child now, holding a plastic shovel in his hand, looking kind of shy. He reached his arm out and held it out to me. I looked up at his grey-black eyes and think, Is this place safe?