Ducks are Strange

The duck waddled up to me. It was just like any other duck I'd ever seen in appearance, looking a bit like a comically mutated version of a regular bird. That's what I always thought about ducks. Strange little creatures, always quacking, always pestering humans for food.

This one fluttered its wings and launched itself upwards while pulling one of its webbed feet backwards, and with one fluid motion, flung itself forward and kicked me in the knee, flipped over, and landed on both feet without even stumbling. It then started to waddle away.

What the heck.

The duck looked back menacingly. It brought one of its wings up in front of me, and moved it sideways across its neck.

Did that... did that duck just threaten me?

The duck flapped its wings again and fluttered over to the pond, rejoining its duck friends.

It was time to home, apparently.

The next day, I was walking in the same park, near the same pond. I wasn't even thinking about what happened yesterday until I saw the ducks gathered at the pond. One turned and started waddling toward me. It was the same duck. Before, I thought all ducks looked alike. This one was different somehow. Just like looking at a human face, I could see the difference. I identified this duck as the one who attacked me yesterday.

It looked angry.

Somehow, for reasons I couldn't understand, I ran. I was terrified of what this small duck could do to me. I am sure I made a scene, running from this little duck with a look of sheer panic on my face, but I couldn't help it.

But despite our size difference, the duck was gaining.

I screamed even though I knew it was ridiculous to scream. "Help!" At the top of my lungs. With as much terror as possible. I heard people laugh. I saw people get out their phones and record the scene of a duck running after a scared, middle-aged man in the park.

The duck leaped a full seven feet into the air and landed with what felt like a massive weight on top of my head. I crumpled to the ground, the air knocked out of me, gasping for breath and now panicking even more than ever. The duck leaped to my side and kicked me onto my back. How? How had this duck taken me down and kicked me like this?

The laughs around me turned to silence. The gathered crowd didn't know what to think of this. "Is this someone making some stupid video for the internet?" "What's wrong with that man?" "That can't be a real duck." "The guy's faking it." All while I was trying to take in whatever air I could manage.

The duck jumped onto my chest and looked me in the eye. Suddenly, one of its wings flapped downwards onto my chest and I felt a great pain. Blood sprayed upwards. I felt the life drain from me. Shrieks and panic spread throughout the crowd. Taking one last close look at me, the duck hopped off of me and started to waddle away as I bled out. It turned, looked at me, and then kicked me one last time.

I heard sirens, screams, sounds of panic. I saw men in rescue gear surround me, trying to stop the inevitable. It would be the last thing I saw.

I always knew ducks were strange.