The Ducks Quack at Midnight (1776 words) - Writers Forum

Crash_Tomas · 07-19-2007, 01:05 PM

Let me know how it is...
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The wary eyes of a lost drifter stared back at me. A reflection in the water. My eyes--dark brown and intense. I saw a burning resolve that lay deep within their endless depths and a certainty within their will. It was unbeknownst to me at the time, but the future that lay before me was that of amazing and terrible things. I would be great in my own right. A man among men. A leader among leaders.

I was on all-fours, looking down into the lake that would be the beginning of my glory. My hands dug into the dirt that led out into the body of water. I could hear the faint sounds of the water brushing up against the shore. A soft wind blowing the trees slightly and stirring the leaves to make a rattling sound. Throughout all of this, I focused in on my eyes. They were the cause for me being here.

I wanted to scream, but held it in to try and keep full control of myself. I was to be made infallible by all who would hear of me. My name would become famous. I would have friends, some trusted than others, and enemies, some gruesome than others. If you’re reading this, I’m already gone but may not be forgotten. I will live on in memories and I know that all of the people I know and have touched in some way or another, they will remember me. We all are a part of each other’s stories. No matter how small, we make a gigantic difference.

As I stared in the water, I felt a presence come up behind me. It was enough to make me blink and look around at who it was. A wind picked up that blew my medium-long hair around. Two sets of eyes stared down at me, one brown like mine, and the other a faded blue.

“You all right?” the blue eyes asked me.

“Yes....”

The blue eyes belonged to a girl. She had short blonde hair for a girl and smiled uncertainly at me. She wore the familiar clothing that roamed wild around the world. A slick-looking black jacket with brown trim. On her right shoulder was a white patch with the insignia of an eagle. The letters “W.G.” were intertwined in some sort of cursive writing with a brilliant black thread with red lining.

The brown eyes on the side of her stood a good eight inches above her. He was thin for a tall guy, but very fit. He wore the same jacket as Hadley and also a plain black baseball hat. I looked back towards the water and slowly rose to my knees. My jeans dug into the dirt and I felt them getting muddy. I let out a relieving breath and stretched my arms over my head.

“I’d like to be alone, if you don‘t mind,” I said softly.

“No problem,” the brown eyes said. His name was Satchel.

“See you later then?” the blue eyes asked.

I nodded. Her name was Hadley.

Satchel took Hadley by her arm and they were off back down the path and away from the lake. It was getting to be around the time I had originally wanted to come out to the lake. Midnight. There was a full moon and it glimmered off of the water. It reflected itself so well that it looked like two worlds--one on top of the other.

“Quack!” One duck sounded.

“Quack!” Two ducks sounded.

“Quack!” Three ducks sounded

I finally rose to my feet and watched as a row of ducks swam across the water. Each was a different color--from white to a dark brown. One in particular caught my eye. It was the last in the long line of the ducks. It was a deep black. It blended in with the night and you could only see it because of its slight-tinted orange beak. They each had light orange beaks and all swam to the center of the lake simultaneously, one after the other. I kept my focus mainly on the black duck. It resembled me in a lot of ways. The only one of its kind--a misfit among the others, but still just as important.

“Quack! Quack! Quack!” the ducks bellowed. The air was filled with their calls and it brought a smile to my face.

I looked down at myself and saw my jeans covered in mud on the knees. My white t-shirt pressed against my skin as the wind began to pick up again. Like Hadley and Satchel, I had the same jacket. It was behind me, hanging on a tree branch. I grabbed it and quickly pulled it on as a fierce gust of wind blew. I hugged my jacket until the wind stopped and found in time to go back inside.

My house had a fantastic view of the lake, and it was un-doubtful that any of my guests did not watch me from the giant window that looked out past the deck and towards the lake. They would have seen me easily, just to satisfy their curiosity. The worse part about the view, is you cannot see the ducks in the center of the water.

As I walked back to my house, I heard the ducks still quacking and held a firm smile until coming to the back door. I stepped inside and was greeted by my guests once more. Hadley. Satchel. And a few others that had not come to see me before. I had left this “get-together” to watch the ducks. It was rude of me to leave, but I had always watched the ducks and wanted the precious moments to myself.

I stared around at everyone as I removed my jacket and placed it on the coat-rack in the kitchen. I held my smile throughout and talked to everyone again as if I had never left. Nobody pressed me for answers, they went on as if nothing had happened. I was relieved and at the same time, felt like there was pressure riding on me.

To them, I was someone without any faults and was perfect in everything I did. So, to see me in a state of difference, they would of course be worried. Or not believe that I could be different in any way. I had worked too hard in molding my place to be seen as mighty, and hated to have others see me in a different state. Most of all, I didn’t want to let them down. I was their leader, their mentor, and even their friend.

The ducks were my only way to un-wind and relax from everything. Even though it was only for a few moments, it was well worth it. They are not only a magnificent sight, they are a metaphor in the way that they occur. Random thoughts that the mind will wander to in situations that have nothing to do with the thoughts. It’s just thinking about the Ducks.

The television in the living room turned on and an emergency news broadcast began. My guests and I watched intently at the flat screen that hung on the wall at decent eye-level. A man appeared with a calm smirk on his face. He wore a brown suit with a black tie and sat behind a cozy-looking desk.

“Good evening,” the man began. “This is Quincy Carlisle with Channel Four News.” He had white teeth that must have taken a lot of money to make that way and small bright blue eyes that glowed through the TV set.

“The United States Congress has just declared war on Germany. After the recent attack on the Pentagon, President Irvington proposed the idea to Congress. It was passed just moments ago.”

“Oh no!” Hadley yelled.

“No need to worry,” I said. “They won’t need us...they can’t need us....” I couldn’t have spoken sooner.

“Due to this,” the man continued. “Congress is calling first, the World’s Guardians, whom were founded by a Massachusetts native a few years ago. They will be called up to Washington D.C. by tomorrow morning. More information concerning this matter coming soon.”

“That’s us...,” Satchel said, letting his words lead into an eerie silence.

“We can handle this,” I said reassuringly. “We’ll do what we’re asked and this will be settled as soon as it started.”

“How can you be so sure?” Hadley asked, on the verge of tears.

“I’m not...,” I said honestly, “It’s what I’m hoping....”

The night ended with little else to say. Everyone was off to get packed and say goodbye to family and friends in case they didn’t come back. I headed out the next morning, planning to be the first arriver. I boarded a plane from Boston and was in the capital city a few hours later.

“Thanks for coming,” a man in an army uniform stepped up to me and offered to grab my bags. “It’s been a hectic night for everyone.”

“No worries,” I said emptily.

“The President will be pleased to see you here so soon.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing him again,” I replied, still with the emptiness.

“I’m Sergeant Hudson, by the way.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

The man led me into a black sedan and we were driven towards the White House. The car entered the gate and we were soon deep within the amazing building. I walked alongside Sergeant Hudson and into the Oval Office. President Irvington sat behind the desk and stood up to greet us.
“Thank you for coming,” he began. I saw sadness in his kind brown eyes and wariness in his leather-like skin.

“Would you mind filling me in, Mr. President?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. Of course,” he said and began to explain the situation. If I repeat anything he said, I will most likely be killed. The information he told me was for my ears only. He even asked Sergeant Hudson to leave the room and wait.

The next day, we were off to fight another war with Germany. I would lead the World’s Guardians into combat just as I was supposed to. I had solidified my place in history. To be known forever as a creator. The war itself is an entirely different story all together and I refuse to relive any moment of it. All that there is left to say in this story is that I am still alive and living each day as it comes. The ducks have taught me how to survive in ways that I can’t even begin to explain.

My name is Conway T. DuQuoin and the ducks do indeed Quack when it’s Midnight.

The End...

Dirk Embers · 07-19-2007, 04:48 PM

It was interesting enough. You called him a creator at the end tho and now I'm wondering who he was? I thought he was just a leader of an organisation? but its probably obvious and I'm just being stupid because im tired.

It was written nicely and I liked the mundaness of the ducks in contrast. I felt that worked very well. so well done.

But.. and I hesitate to say it after replies to my story, at the risk of sounding childish... it was a little letter like in vocabulary. Evidently I overdo it, but Robin Hobb is a good first person writer you may want to have a look at. and she doesn't. lol. very good though. keep writing.

Dirk Embers · 07-19-2007, 04:52 PM

also, thankyou for your help earlier. I found the section and reposted it. I get a little lost on here. so once again, thankyou!

Crash_Tomas · 07-19-2007, 05:17 PM

lol, thanks and you're welcome. It's true about my vocabulary, I keep it quite simple and only occasionally throw fancier words around. I'm more of a Hemingway than anything else...

T.W. North · 07-20-2007, 03:46 AM

This is embarrasing - I like to think of myself as deep...but I don't get this. O.o Sorry man, but I seriously don't understand the point in it.

Crash_Tomas · 07-20-2007, 10:47 AM

lol, it's all one giant metaphor...lol...

I guess you're not as deep as you thought you were...lol~

If I must explain, the ducks are only in for laughs, but "thinking about the ducks" is thinking about something else entriely in a situation that makes no sense why you would think of it...like if you were being chased by someone, and then thoughts of something else come into your head...

anyway, take it as you will...all well~

Truth-Teller · 07-20-2007, 11:31 AM

If this is comedy--marvelous, hilarious! Quack Quack Quack, lmfao.

If you're being serious--I give you an F.

Crash_Tomas · 07-20-2007, 02:04 PM

yes, this is comedy, lol~