It appeared overnight—a colossal Frame standing at the center of town. Taller than the holy Mt. Gradia, almost reaching for the clouds, it made for an unforgettable scene. It resembled a photo frame, yet didn’t hold a picture; looked like a gate, yet led nowhere. Carvings etched on its golden borders pulsed faintly, whispering secrets we couldn’t decipher.

We remained rooted in front of it, terrified and wondering how this gigantic structure had appeared overnight. None of us dared to go near it. Except Zeniga, the orphaned urchin, who crept close. She traced the carvings that glowed brighter—The choice is yours.

We wanted to warn her, to protect her. Instead, we chose silence. We watched, clutching our little ones tighter, as she skipped into the Frame—and vanished!

Knees trembling, teeth chattering, we inched closer, wondering where she went. But all we could see was the other end of the town. No signs of Zeniga!

We lingered, as long as we could. But then there were jobs to attend to, meals to be prepared, and kids to be taken care of. So, we returned to our lives.

The Frame stood ignored. Zeniga, forgotten.

Weeks later a figure stepped out of the Frame and stole our breath. It was Zeniga!

Her once-parched skin now glowed like the sun. Her matted hair was a silken mane. The rags that she usually wore were a thing of the past.

But it wasn’t just her beauty that stunned us. It was the people who stood beside her. Her parents and grandparents, who had long been dead.

We swarmed her with questions, but she said nothing, except, “It’s a children’s paradise. It teaches one to make choices.”

The next day, we crowded around the Frame, trying to enter. But we hit an invisible wall. Then we remembered Zeniga’s words—It was a children’s paradise.  

“Let’s send them in,” said someone.

Days later, joyous laughter filled the air as our children returned, armed with sweets, books, toys, and clothes.

The kids were delighted, but that wasn’t enough for us. We wanted more!

“Imagine what they can bring with the right guidance,” said someone.

And we sent our kids into the Frame once again.

But this time, the children didn’t go empty-handed. They were armed with a list of things to bring: Money, diamonds, pearls, rubies, cars, and all the things we thought we needed.

Our children, trusting and obedient, entered the Frame once again.

Only to never return.

Days turned to weeks. A deathly silence smothered our childless lives. We begged Zeniga to enter the Frame once again and bring our children. But she refused. “They are learning to choose. They are learning to be free.

Now, decades have passed. Some of us have journeyed to the other world.

The Frame stands tall, thick vines strangling its dulled glow. We curse the Frame for taking our children.

We rarely wonder if we gave them away.