Horror logo

The Ducks of Sharun

A Quacking Good Tale

By A. Renée BowlingPublished 6 years ago 3 min read
Like

There was something weird about the ducks by Sharun pond. They were quiet and stared a lot. But, the area was beautiful and secluded, so I grabbed a loaf of bread and my notebook and headed down there. The sky was clear and the sun shining when I pulled up, and there wasn’t a single other person in sight. I preferred it that way. No awkward eye contact, or worse, people trying to talk to me. Just me and the birds and the clear water of the pond.

I picked a bench near the water’s edge. The birds were swimming in the middle of the water and they all turned at once. Green and brown heads all trained on me. I opened the bread and they swarmed me, forming a circle around the bench.

“Hey cuties. Are you hungry?” I asked.

They were still silent. Still staring. I tore a few slices up and sprinkled them around. The largest one, a male, waddled over to me as the others pecked at the pieces in the grass. He pecked at my hand, snapping at my skin with his hard bill. I dropped the bag of bread and they descended on it, eating every bit. Even the bag. The big male came over to me again.

“Shoo!” I said, waving my arms. “Get away, meanie!”

He stared at me, turning his head back and forth to see me with both eyes. The circle of ducks drew closer to the bench, and I was forced to pull my legs up. One by one, they began to snap their bills until I could hear nothing over the clattering clamor. I covered my ears. My palms were slick and clammy and my pulse was so fast I thought I was having a heart attack. I couldn’t breathe, but as the largest one, the leader, hopped up onto the bench, I knew I had to do something. I grabbed my keys and unlocked the door to my car. It was a short sprint away, and I would be safe if I could just make it there.

I hopped to my feet and swung a leg over the back of the bench. As I made my jump I felt something tugging on my pants leg and turned to see the leader with it in his bill, right before I ended up face first in the grass. I rolled over, grasping my keys between my fingers, and he landed on my chest. He wasn’t heavy, but I found myself paralyzed beneath him. He spread his wings and the others swarmed, blocking the sun from view. They started the bill snapping again and I began to cry, deep, chest-wracking, hiccupping sobs.

“Please stop,” I said as snot ran down my face. “I’ll bring you all the bread you want, just let me go.”

He stretched his neck as far as he could, his bill pointed to the sky. His emerald feathers gleamed like gems, like an oil slick. And then he brought it down on the bridge of my nose.

Stars bloomed in front of my eyes, and I could smell, could taste, could feel the blood pouring down. My arm flew to my face, my hand still gripping my keys and I swung at him. I missed and the others descended on me, pecking and pinching at me. There was blood, so much blood, as they tore chunks from my flesh and, to my horror and shock and disgust, swallow them down.

The attack ended as quickly as it had begun. I was dizzy, my head pounding and swimming and throbbing with each beat of my heart. Each slowing beat, I realized. I laughed, coughing blood into my mouth.

“I hope it was worth it, you feathered monsters,” I said, giving up my efforts to push myself up. “You’re all going to be exterminated when people find out what you did.”

The leader found his way to my chest again. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe, the edges of my vision darkening and contracting. He drove his bill into my chest over and over until I felt, and heard, my ribs crack. Everything began to fade. As I took one more breath, my last one, I saw him tuck his little green head into my chest and begin to eat.

I hope he choked on it.

fiction
Like

About the Creator

A. Renée Bowling

An independent author with penchant for sci-fi.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.