I first realized something was wrong at about the age of six. Every Thanksgiving, when all my friends were sitting down to a hearty dinner of turkey, my family was eating duck. It seemed normal when I was growing up, but after kindergarten I realized it wasn't. Why was it that we ate duck while others had turkey? It bothered me for some reason and it actually got to the point where it would upset me. It would be Thanksgiving time in school and when all the other kids were telling the teachers about their juicy Thanksgiving turkeys, I was talking about my duck. Some kids would even tease me for it and, I know it seems silly now, but at night I would lie in my room and cry because all I wanted was to have a turkey for Thanksgiving. It wasn’t just the kids at school either. It was something else, something in the back of my mind; something that told me there was a reason people didn’t have duck for Thanksgiving. I asked my mother about it and she just gave me the popular grown up to kid answer “Because,”
It really didn’t explain anything or quell my distressing thoughts but my mother wasn’t someone you asked a question twice. So I just lived with it but it always stayed with me. Then the strangest thing …show more content…
I jumped away, screaming like a girl, and looked back to see the little duck squatting before me. It seemed to glare at me and its bill actually bill actually looked turned down into a sneer. I could feel warmth running down my ankle and had time to look back and see my pants ripped and blood trailing out my broken skin. I looked back at the golden duck, wide eyed and a little fearful, and a scary thought occurred to me. This wasn’t just a random duck. This was the same duck that bit me all those years ago, the same duck that drank from the pool of my blood. I know it sounded preposterous. Ducks didn’t live that