The Duck Pond

 As I walked along the path, I came upon the duck pond. It sat there, round with a family of ducks swimming in it all quacking in an idyllic way. I stood there, transfixed and fascinated by the scene. So calming.

My mind was at ease as I stood on the side of the water, tiny waves lapping the ground at my feet. I cast my eyes around and saw a small bench to my right. I walked over and sat down. 

I noticed I had some bread crumbs in my pocket as if I had planned this. I didn’t remember putting them there but I grasped a few pieces of it and tossed it on the water's surface. The ducks swam over and quietly ate it. I smiled.

I remembered a time with my father as we would feed ducks near my home. He’d take me to them and put some bread in my hand and showed me how to throw it to them. We did it for hours, standing there in silence. I smiled as that memory surfaced and almost felt him at my side again. I think I was five when we did that and hadn’t thought of it in years but the memory was strong and distinct as if it had happened only days ago. 

My father died of cancer years ago, of course. But sitting here, feeding the ducks, it felt like I could reach out and grasp his hand one more time, tell him how much I loved him once again and feel his presence forever standing over me. 

I sat there and cast some more food to the ducks.

I looked to my left and saw another person show up. For just a second I felt a bit of annoyance that another person had stumbled upon my duck pond but only for a moment. He stood there with the same look in his eyes I had when I first showed up - silent fascination giving way to memories that were warm and happy. He looked over at me and started over. He sat next to me.

We glanced at each other and said nothing. Nothing had to be said - we had found something that connected us at a deep, almost primal, level. We could watch this forever.

We sat on the bench and watched for a long time I think. The sun never seemed to move in the sky but it felt like a long time. Sounds of cars in the background - this was the center of a city park after all - could be heard if I concentrated… But I wanted to ignore them. All I wanted to do was watch the show in front of me. Feed bits of bread to the ducks as they went about their business of being a duck family, ducklings following their mother swim around the pond, eating bits of bread we tossed into the water.

I was so transfixed by the scene in front of me I didn’t notice the others showing up. When I looked around I saw several more - many more, actually - people standing on the side of the pond. They all had the same look in their eyes. We all watched as the pond sat there, ducks swam and ate. We fed them and watched it.

It was a long long time that went by. I don’t know how long but the sun never moved, but it must have been long.

I started to become aware that the bench was not comfortable anymore. It was hard and annoying. But I didn’t get up. I sat there and watched the show.

I noticed that the people standing on the side of the pond were getting restless. I wondered if perhaps I ought to get up and offer one my seat. But I didn’t. I was there first. I found this wonderful thing to watch and they were just johnny-come-lately’s. They could stand. I was the true fan of this. I was the first.

I looked at the ducks and they seemed to be swimming in the same circles. The same patterns. They weren’t changing - just repeating their swirls in the water, the same quacks and the same dives for food. It annoyed me. I thought about leaving. I didn’t.

I remembered when I first arrived at this pond and how it calmed me. How fascinating it was. But now it seemed to just be doing the same thing over and over. What fascinated me, entertained me, at first seemed just annoying now. I blamed my father for leaving me alone to this stupid sight.

My bench neighbor seemed to have anger on his face. He grimaced and shifted on his seat. But he didn’t leave.

The people standing on the edge of the pond shifted their weight from foot to foot. They seemed uncomfortable. Bored, even.

That was when the pushing started. I heard a sound from my right and looked over. Words were shouted. Something about “Not the same as it was!” and a retort of “It never was good!” I tried to ignore it.

When it continued I stood up, finally, and looked at them. “If you don’t like it, you can leave!”, I yelled in anger.

They looked at me in disbelief. “How dare you tell me what to do!”, came a shout.

I thought about sitting back down but decided I didn’t feel like that. I walked over to them and got in the face of the person that had shouted it. “Why do you have to ruin it for everyone else!”, I screamed, spittle covering his face.

He shoved me and I fell to the ground. I looked at the ducks and they continued their lazy circles of the pond, totally ignoring us. I looked up at the face of the man that had shoved me, unbelieving. 

“You people sicken me, just watching this thing!”, he said, face contorting into a rage fueled muzzle.

“Stupid troll.”, I breathed and got up. I turned my back and started to walk away. I heard several shouts but I had already just blocked the words from my consciousness. I stood and watched the pond, a smile plastered on my face. I decided I would watch this just to annoy the other man. That was when the pain exploded on my back.

I fell to the ground, screaming in pain. I noticed I couldn’t move my legs. 

I looked around and people were fighting. I saw one person claw at another's face, screaming the words “I like it here!”

Another person, kicking a small child in the chest, screamed “It just repeats, it’s stupid to like this!”

I laid there, unable to move. I saw blood spreading on the ground around me. I assumed some of it was my blood, some other people’s blood. I didn’t care. I’d keep watching the ducks just to spite the people yelling insults at them. 

As darkness came over me I saw the ducks continuing to swim in circles around the pond oblivious to the carnage around them. 

Groups formed, it seemed. Groups arguing for the perfection of the duck pond. Groups arguing ti was better when they first started watching. Groups arguing it was never good. I heard insults hurled from one group to another. Weapons were produced, blood was shed.

Then the ducks flew away. We all watched them arc into the sky, flying nowhere. Even the younger ones took flight. And there was no more duck pond. 

People looked at each other. Some were guilty, some weren’t. But the group dispersed. I stood up, painfully and started to stagger away. The show was over. Time to find a new one. Maybe some videos had been recorded that I could watch. 

I miss when the duck pond was good.