Chapter 1

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OK, I know it sounds silly. It really does. How could I be scared of a somehow, somewhere there is a duck watching me? Like even if that was true, what could a duck do?

Well, you'd be surprised.

It all started only a few short days ago. I live on a farm, which is crazy now, considering my fear. But I can't help it you know? We live in County Leitrim(woo!go Leitrim!!)and we have cows which we milk morning and night. My mom also has ducks though, for our pond, because, you know, she thought it would be nice and all. So I had gotten up on another bleak, dull day and pulled on my deadly black wellies with tipp-exed out daisies on them. Then I had ventured outside and over to the pond with the stale bread my mom had left out for me to feed the ducks with. My parents were out herding the cattle by this stage, and my brother was still sound asleep in bed. He wouldn't wake 'til at least twelve, and it was still very early in the morning. I hadn't been able to sleep. Teddy, my adorable newfoundland dog was no where to be seen, which was normal for him really.

So I had been all alone that morning, with only the tweeting birds to keep me company. I wandered outside in the long, dew laden grass and looked up at the overcast sky.

"Great day so far," I thought, "Not a hint of rain."

That's when I''d seen it, or...him you could say. The duck. He had been staring at me, and I'd smiled pleasantly back at him while he had given me the evil eye.

"Duck, what are you staring at?" I'd thought, but not said out loud, because obviously, I'm not crazy and I know animals can't  talk. I also know that that duck wasn't evil and he isn't making me say this at all by mind messaging me threats.

I'd proceeded over to the pond where plenty of impatient, but otherwise friendlier looking ducks were waiting for their breakfast. I broke up the bread and threw it out to them, feeling like a good person handing out food to the poor. I was practically a saint! Except that the bread was stale, but that didn't really matter. They didn't taste really. At least, that's what I'd thought.

While all the other ducks had been greedily grabbing and pushing and shoving for the stale bread I threw out to them on the pond, this one, who'd been staring at me, lets call him Mr. Donald, stared up at me again. Then he'd sidled over to one of the pieces of now soggy, and also stale bread which floated at the edge of the pond, and he picked it up. After holding it in his mouth for a while, he spit it out! I'm not joking, I swear. He actually, properly spit out the bread! It had landed just in front of my feet. I'd stared at it for ages, confused and shocked. When I'd looked up, he'd gone. Still in shock, I'd emptied out the rest of the bag of bread and started back towards the house. Only, just before I'd entered the house, I'dheard Teddy barking like crazy at the window near me. What had he been barking at? I spun around, quick as a whip and searched all detective like for signs of danger or dog fuelled anger. I'd found nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, it wasn't until I'd opened the door that I say something out of the corner of my eye. Another eye. Completely freaked out, I'd jumped inside and slammed the door shut. I'd locked it and ran into Teddy where I'd hugged him for comfort and security. Then my parents had walked in and saw me in that position. I'd tried my best to explain it to them.

"But I saw an eye mom! There was someone there!" I'd stammered.

"Who was it, Ailbhe?" My mom had replied, worried.

"That's just the thing, it wasn't a human eye, it was something else. I think it might have been..a..a..a ducks eye!" I'd broken down into tears before my parents who thought I was crazy. But I'm not, I swear. I know, I just know, that if I had stayed outside for one second longer than I had, Mr. Donald would have got me. What he'd do with me I don't know.

This is where I gained my fear from. This fear, although uncommon, once people know about it, sometimes they get it too, even if nothing traumatic happened between them and a duck. They get it from thinking about it. You see, the more and more you think about it, the scarier it becomes. You know it's irrational, but that doesn't make it any less scary. Let me paint a picture for you. Just imagine that somehow, somewhere, there is a duck watching you.

Scary, right? Maybe irrational too, but my fear isn't irrational, because my fear is true.

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⏰ Last updated: Jun 11, 2012 ⏰

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