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The Little duckling
Never have I been so powerless in my life, it was like the nervous system in my body failed and my arms were super magnetized to the bottom of the ground. It was like my feet were caught in quicksand and the more I struggled against my mind, the more I felt like the lower half of my body was paralyzed and the reflexes that I used day to day never worked since the day I was born. It was the summer of 2009, the year my family and I left for our house in Dhaka, Bangladesh, the year I felt so much loss and grief at the same time, yet my mind couldn’t process it. That day still haunts me like a living nightmare, I can still remember the crow’s dead beady eyes staring into my soul as it entrapped my heart and clutched it with its claws, I can still remember its beak open like a deadly sword opening from its scabbard as it flew speeding towards me. The gut wrenching scream, to this day still rings throughout my ears, and the way my pet duck Hash’s body deformed like a rag doll as he fell to the floor splitting his neck open, still terrifies me. You can only imagine how much of a strain this could put on the mind of an innocent nine year old, and the pure screech of terror that boomed from my vocal cords afterwards was not a pretty sound to be heard.
“Rahat what just happened? Are you okay?” My brother ran out of the house and bolted towards me, almost tripping down the stairs in the process.
“I-I-It’s Hash” my voice quivered and faltered.
“What about Hash?” And then my brother had seen the obscene sight I had been staring at. Hash’s mangled torn body lay on the floor, his feathers protruded backwards and a pool of blood slowly gushed out, filling the area around him. The pungent odor of blood filled the air, my brother held his hand to his mouth, resisting the urge to vomit; he swallowed whatever was left of his breakfast and screamed.
“Mom, Dad, hurry!”
My parents ran out in confusion, when they had seen the gruesome death of my pet duck, they quickly ran over and sent the both of us inside. As my brother pulled me back into the house, the image of the ominous dark crow lingered in the back of my mind. Falling asleep, the crow flew off far beyond my reach, drips of blood one by one fell to the ground. Abruptly, I woke up in a cold sweat, with my hand reaching for the ceiling fan; last night’s evens had put me in a haze.
“It must have all been a bad nightmare, there’s no way that could have happened” I quietly laughed to myself, as I groggily limped out of bed.
A sinking feeling in my gut told me I may have been wrong. Rushing towards the back of the house, running past the chicken coop, I stopped at Hash’s feeding area, only to see an empty, dry feeding bowl, and Hash was nowhere to be found. Sprinting with the full extent of the muscles in my legs, I busted open the main gates.
“Mom, Dad, where’s Hash? He’s not by his feeding bowl!” I paused and looked at the painful expressions drawn on their faces.
“What-what happened? He’s usually peacefully eating his food, but he’s not there. He’s always there Dad, there’s no way he could have ran away!” Tears rolled down the sides of my cheeks, I realized what had happened, I didn’t need them to explain, yesterday’s events really did happen and they were too nice to break the truth to me. I took off not listening to a word of what was being said.
“Rahat, come back here!” My Dad shouted.
“Not until I find Hash!” I answered back.
I slowly walked towards the Outdoor pen where Hash usually slept. Outside the pen was my brother, kneeling down on both feet, his eyes and nose were both red, snot was pouring out as he slowly sniffled. As I slowly sat down and crept beside him, I saw what he had been looking at, with small etched in engravings to what looked a child would have wrote with a pocket knife read, “Rest in Peace, Here lays Hash” as I stared at the headstone, my heart snapped into two, tears began to build up between the tear ducts of my eyes.
“What is this? This isn’t right; none of this is, none of this is at all” My voice ached as I stared at the teary eyes of my brother.
“Wh-what are you saying Rahat? Don’t you see what’s happened? Hash is go-“
“Hash’ll be back just you wait!”
I quickly stood up and raced towards the fields, the mud splattered as every foot step pounded towards the ground. I searched every top and bottom of the area, from the old glistening creek to the dusty un-used tool shed in the back; I searched until the sky filled with dusk, when finally the crickets began to chirp and the chickens began to sleep. My heart pulsed, each thump grew louder than the rest, my entire body was drenched in sweat from head to toe, yet still Hash was nowhere to be found. At last I stopped in front of his feeding bowl, the place he looked most at rest, the place I always saw that cute little furry face of his drinking water that dribbled down his beak to the fore feathers of his bubbly stomach. With one last glimpse I turned and headed home, but in the corner of my eye, I had seen something. That something was a dirty, muddy, golden worn out feather lying next to Hash’s pen. Grabbing the feather, I jolted back home and quickly approached my brother.
“Look, look! Hash has to be alive, tell Mom and Dad that we have to go and search for him” I exclaimed.
My brother froze staring at me with the look of confusion in his eyes. “Rahat, what are you talking about? Hash-”
“Don’t you see this feather that I’m holding? I found it next to his pen, there’s only one thing this feather could explain”. I persuaded.
My brother paused and looked at the desperate tears overflowing from my eyes, hesitantly he replied with a slow and sorrowful, “You must be right”. Before I could run out and search for Hash again, my brother stopped me persuading that we go tomorrow, because it was too dark out. As I left for bed, I strongly clutched the tattered feather in my right palm, the delicate strands slowly shaped and curved to the form of my hand. Falling asleep and waking up, the feather stayed in between my fingers, not once had I let go. The day smelt like moist earth, the rain poured through the roads and the grass struggled to keep upright.
“Looks like today we won’t be able to go”. My brother explained.
Without listening to my brother, I pushed open the door and walked into the rain, “If Hash is still out there, he’ll be cold and wet, I have to find him today”
As each individual droplet fell from the sky to the tip of my cheek, I was reminded of the day I’d first met Hash on a similar rainy day. Just as this day, the day I met hash was wet and cold. I remember longing fully looking out the window desperately searching for something to do. As my eyes slowly wandered, I came across a peculiar scared furry little creature hiding from the rain behind the tall un-reliable emerald colored leaves. Without a second thought, I exited the front door to see what it was, what I saw was a baby duckling, no mother or father to be found with a desperate stare in its gaze. I quickly picked up the squirming baby duckling and brought it inside, with a fuzzy warm towel I dried the duckling’s feathers, as I held him in my palms, I knew after the first glance that I wanted him. After hours of begging, my parents allowed me to keep him; my mom had a soft spot for his eyes and convinced my dad, my brother was just as enthusiastic as I was. Finally, I gave him a name, the name I chose was Hash, the Bengali word for little duckling.
“Rahat, get back inside! You’ll catch a cold” My brother yelled.
And now here I was standing in the same rain, yet now I was searching for Hash not finding him. My brother stood beside me and told me once more to go back inside, I didn’t move an inch. The more he tugged at my soaked shirt, the more my feet stood in place. Finally, he could take no more and screamed.
“Hash is dead! He’s never coming back, you can search as much as you want for him, but you’re never going to find him!”
I stood expressionless, deep down in my heart I knew he was right, that all of this was an act, a façade that I created in order to not feel the loss and the hole in my heart that Hash had left. I fell to my knees ignoring the mud that sprang and dirtied my clothes, never had I wept so hard in my life. My brother fell to his knees crying as well, he kneeled beside and gave me a hug, as I bawled tears of pain and misery I could hear his heart beat a slow but mellow beat.
“I know Rahat, I know” he cried.
The feather that I had not let go for the past day, slowly slipped from my hand, as the feather drifted towards the ground my brother and I slowly stood up and walked towards Hash’s grave. The rain poured over the head stone, making each individual letter that was etched in more visible. Again I read “Rest in Peace, Here lays Hash”, I stared at the head stone for what seemed an eternity and headed for the door “Good bye Hash” I said.
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