duck

It's raining.

There's a duckling drowning!

Under the patio steps is an aquarium, and it's filling with water.

The ducking is cold and trying to stay afloat.

Its raining!



Why am I here, knocking on doors, in the rain? Im such a long ways away form home. My feet are cold and wet! I was born and raised in a desert for pete sake! I might have mold growing between my toes. All this wet is a drag!! And the pasty oatmeal I had for breakfast is just not cutt'in it. What should I do to keep me and this companion of mine motivated and on task?

I can rescue the duckling.

I scoop it from the depths of despair, and hurry home in hopes that he can be saved.

If I can just find someone find someone to listen to me. I have so much to share with anyone who cares. My life is good. I want others to know why.

The duckling is thriving.

He's now known as Gordon.

His yellow down is quickly disappearing and white glossy feathers are appearing.

He's in a box in the basement for now, with a light bulb for warmth and plenty of food and affection.



Im known as Elder out here. Its been a year since I've seen home or my friends and family. I live in this dumpy little apartment, in a low rent district. I know my mo would never believe that its safe where I live. Mom would never approve of my diet either. I subsist on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Im grateful that I'm prayed for and watched over. At least I sleep well at night.



Gordon has his own little yard with a fence and a pool and a beautiful grapevine to lounge under and eat from its bounty.

He has a box with a hole cut in it to protect him from wandering cats.

Life seems good for a duck on the cul-de-sac.



I must cover a certain number of square blocks each week. Then I also have to record our visits and successes and failures. I wonder if it's really worth it. My feet hurt and it always seems to be raining. Will it do any good, what am I doing out here? Will anybody listen to the message I'd like to share? People look at me so strangely. Maybe I really am nuts.



Gordon eats bugs and about anything that I give him.

He joins be in the basement, when I strap on my metal skates and tighten them up with the skate key that hangs on a shoelace around my neck.

I skate in the basement on the cool cement floor-while Gordon frolics and splashes in the utility sink next to the washer.

He watches me.

I watch him.

We are enjoying our own forms of recreation.

Oh how he loves to swim in the sink.

Oh how I enjoy taking long strides around the basement to see just how fast I can zing myself around the poles that hold up the ceiling.

We have a good time.



I sure do love invitations to homes that are sympathetic-they always feed me better than I feed myself. It's much more that just peanut butter sandwiches. Sometimes I get to share a part of my message. I think sometimes they feel my sincerity and ask for more. Sometimes we say prayers together, or favorite scriptures are enjoyed. There are even times when Im invited back to share the best parts.



Gordon is in the backyard.

I'm in my room.

I'm thinking Im foxy in my black patent-leather boots.

I have on a mini skirt and Im eyeing the unfamiliar feminine products left on the bed by my mother.

What's happening here?

I have a pet duck in the yard, skates and a key in the floor by my bed and an ache in my heart-'cause Im young, but Im not.



Day in and day out Im teaching that we should honor our parents,that you shouldn't smoke or drink or be hitt'in a joint. Im teaching that girls should dress modestly and lead a chaste life.



I have signs of rebellion scattered all about me.

My parents are trip'in out about what's to be done with me.

What should they do with this duck owner who's turning in to a rebellious young woman?

Duck owner spends much of her time in her room-grounded, restricted and accused-watching over Gordon, whose in the backyard; both wishing to be free.



Im nearing the end of my service. Its been 2 long years. Boy, I cant wait to be home. I've lost count of the doors I've knocked on or of the doors slammed in my face. Im sure I've helped to change some lives. Im sure I've made a difference to a few souls. I wonder what the future holds for me when I return home? There's this final neighborhood that must be explored. Its that main drag just down the road here. There is a cul-de-sac in the center of it.



Young lady/duck owner is in trouble.

Will she be sent away?

Will someone or something intervene?

Is Creation in control?

GORDON IS MISSING!!!

All that is found is some feathers.

Not so young duck owner is heart broken, but distracted by the drama playing our at home.



I've been knocking at this door now for quite a few minutes. Nobody seems to be home. I'll have to tell the next elder about this cul-de-sac and the house with the duck in the back yard. They should try again. Maybe it wont be raining the next time.



The duck's human family is moving away!

Far away-to the other coast.

Somehow, young lady survives the transition, through the money and softness of California and even the (?) acting out -rebelliousness???

Good things do find her.



Im finally home! With the knowledge and proof that my service was worthwhile. Now I need a college education and a good chick at my side. Im already looking back on those wet 2 years with fondness and relief.



Young lady is changed.

Through creations design.

She too seeks education and chose the west-the tops of the mountains.



That's just go to be a gal from California!! I've got to meet her. We speak of many things, including our pets. A white duck is described, that lived in the backyard, under a grapevine. I look in wonder at this fledgling LDS girl. Who was just recently dunked in a baptismal font one year earlier. Did you live on a cul-de-sac? Could I have knocked on your door? What if I'd done so then....those several years ago. What would I have seen then?



A duck owner- with long scraggly limbs and strange stringy hair, trying out the latest fashions of black patent-leather boots and short mini skirts. Gordon the white, handsome duck would have been tucked under her arm.

A girl who felt like she was drowning in a sea of restrictions, trying to find herself.

What would have crossed my mind....this my future wife??????

I wonder what happened to Gordon?





(If you happen to be wondering where the heck this random 'story' came from.....I took a creative writing class last term and this is one of the stories that materialized from being pushed and stretched a bit. Its unique and odd...but you really wouldnt expect anything less from me right?)