Peter Noel

A padded room of feathers

 
    The Rippling water flowed beneath his feet urging him to go faster. He saw her straining to resist the luist of the waterfall, and he swam faster. She looked at him in a way next that caused him to stop. She had accepted fate. He wouldn't let her.
Once upon a time there were two ducks who did not know each other and lived very different lives. They both wandered different waters until one day the wind sung a beautiful particular tune, and set their lives on fire.
He saw her from afar, and he knew she would be his renewal and destruction; his savior and fraying link to humanity. She saw him swimming alone, basking in the moonlight, mimicking circles of light.
“Hey who is out there?” she quacked. He turned around and looked at her with a reminiscant dark glare. She reminded him of what could have been.
“Don't ignore me you stupid pile of feather!” she quacked even louder. He kept swimming and paddling to the rythmn of the moon. He ducked under the water with a pop.
“Come back here you bitch, she quacked in disgust. “ I cannot believe you are swimming away from me! Do you have any idea who I am?”
He popped up and replied “Do you?"
 
  It was silent for a monent before the hesitation of the water. He beckoned her to follow him.
 
"Come find out!” he said and started paddling again. She came with him and said nothing. They paddled off into an oncoming current, and he led her on with only the reassurance of movement andhis  soft spoken words.
 
The Doctors watched her play with the rubber duck in the white washed room. They unlocked her door with uncertainty and worry. She was with him again. He played along with her, always smiling at her innocence. He said he was family, and whose to say he isn't? They thought she was lucid and crazy; he thought she had found the answer. Perhaps, just perhaps they were jealous of her? Maybe because she is happy.




The Two ducks had broken the silence when she could not stand it anymore. She splashed him causing him to smile; creating one on her own bill. They swam now without the awkwardness of uncertainty and quacked happily. They played and danced; sang and lived.
They rose upon a red crest of water in the sun and couldn't help but to glow inside. The sun knew what was happening, and he intended this moment to be as joyous as he could, and so he reached out his tendrils even further and breathed beauty. He streched his rays cloaked them in warmth and relaxation. It seemed they had known each other, and at the same time feared each other. They both had more power than they knew.


“What the hell are you letting them do to her, you piece of shit!” her mother yelled. Her eyes were dry and red, and she looked like she belonged there more than her. Her knuckles were knotted and white with arthiritis and worry.
“You said you would take care of her! You said you she would get better! She pounded on his chest and and began to cry. “ You promised me she would stop this! And you let him in after I specifically told you not too. He lets her live in this dream world and encourages it!”
“Look you need to calm down. We are stabalized her and he seems to-”
“Listen to me you inconsiderate vampire. She is living a lie!” She screamed grabbing his collar with both hands shaking his trust. She shook him again and again in the slightest hope he would feel her pain; her agony. The distress in her eyes was almost vacant of hope, and longed for something real. Did he not know how much she loved her daughter, that she would do anything for her?”
 
They continued downstream growing more and more trusting with each ripple. Their feathers were weighed down in the heat and sticky air of the sun, but their thoughts were as clear as sand struck by lightning. He would splash her and get her to fly higher than any duck before. The higher she flew the faster the wind carried her.
He quacked up at her to keep going. He knew she had more spirirt and will than a mountain lion. It was in that moment she had no limitations. It was in that moment everything changed; it was in that moment the pill of what they called sanity tore at her.


“Hold her, and make her swallow the damn pills!” the doctor yelled. She struggled, and he was gone. They forced him out, and forced reality in; into their world, a world of black and white crumbling in shadows of hope and sin.
“Let her go!” he yelled. He pounded on the glass again and again with a force that created a haunting beat. Her yells flowed into a melody of madness, and the running squeaks of the shoes of the doctors gave the song vaired pitch of voicel. It was a song of rescure, mental uncertainity, and passion. It was beautiful. It ended with a quenching throat for water and resputed gasps.


The wind had blown her down into the waterfall's path. She couldn't swim anymore, and she struggled against the current. He flapped and quacked with his heart crumbling. He flapped and pushed watching her get nearer to the end. He knew he couldn't do anything. He knew he had too. His entire body and mind strained at the thought of anything happening to her. It couldn't. It wouldn't.


She sat subdued in the corner now. Her dark hair masked the raw skin on her face. She was in a trance swinging to her own melonchaly. Her toes seemed awfully yellow today. They reminded her of the sun. The pain on her face was better than the pain in her heart and mind. Her skun hung on her nails. It didn't smile at her anymore.


 
She lay breathing heaviley on a soft warm body of down and warm comfor. Her webbed feet were broken, and some of her feather floated by her in tranquility. She didn't want to look down until he moved. His breathing was ragged, and she looked at him now in questioning. Why had he come down the waterfall? Why had he saved her? How had he saved her?  How did he get under her so fast?
“Who are you?” she asked as a single tear rolled down her bill onto his slowing chest of new colors. He replied only with carbon dioxide and exasperation. But she knew who he was now. She knew who she was. She took one last look at him and began to paddle again.


The doctors were no longer around. He couldn't see her anmore except in his dreams and sometime nightmares. He knew she wasn't crazy; he knew her world was real. He never told anyone, but he also saw the ducks, but not anymore. Bars replaced feathers and clanging shanks made out of spoons heaviley shadowed the sounds of the wind. Her escape was infamous, and he gladly admitted his partake. The pounding gavel was a lullaby. He never stopped hoping he might catch a glimpse of her hair. He knew he never would, but even rationality cannot overcome emotion. The smell of her smile was the only thing that kepy him going now. That and the promise of beautiful electricity. He would see her soon.
The doctors, lawyers, and sobbing mothers called it first degree murder. In their reality together, he actually set her free.

 

Alle Rechte an diesem Beitrag liegen beim Autoren. Der Beitrag wurde auf e-Stories.org vom Autor eingeschickt Peter Noel.
Veröffentlicht auf e-Stories.org am 01.02.2010.

 

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