The Miracle of Quack

 

“Fly, Quack! Fly!”

I cried with all my heart, pushing Quack to push itself to soar into the sky. But as hard as it flapped its wings and flung itself up into the air, it never took off. Not once in the last ten months. And it came to a standstill, frustrated and exhausted.

But I was there to help Quack pick itself up. I wasn’t going to give up on it. It had to fly and I had to see it. I brought it food and drink, and as it liked, petted its head and stroked its neck. It made Quack happy – closing its eyes and shaking its head, it let out a low purr.  

“I know it’s difficult, yes. And they seem to think it’s impossible, and I, a fool for trying. But you can prove them wrong, Quack. You, my little one, can. For me, for the both of us, you will fly, higher than a-nyeeeeeeeaaaarrrrRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrummmmm…”

How annoying!

But then I remembered. It all started long before Quack was even born.

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“Fly Egal, fly! Higher than all else.”

My parents’ words to me before I went onstage and won the first prize at my school costume competition as a cock. They lovingly called me Egal. My name’s Regal.

When we got home, I climbed on top of the table and proclaimed, “I am going to fly.”

“Get down from there,” said my mother. “You are going to get hurt.”

“I am a flying cock!”

“Say something Donald” urged my mother to my father who was busy watching the weather news. “He’s going to hu...”

There was a thud. A moment of silence. Hurried footsteps. A loud slap. And I cried.

“Remember this the next time you want to fly like a cock, Egal” said my father before returning to his news.

“I told you, you were going to get hurt” said my mother pulling me into her embrace and consoling me. After I had calmed down, she asked me, “Will you fly again?”

“I won’t”.

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Cupping my face in her palms, my mother pulled me down and kissed me deeply on my forehead. When she receded, her dark eyes were shrunken with tears, magnifying the lines of wrinkles on her face. With an immaculate smile, she said, “I am s – nyeeeeeeeaaaarrrrRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrummmmm....”

The overhead plane drowned out her voice. We were away from the city and near the airport. There were planes flying in and out every few minutes, from far and near, blocking out the sun and roaring us deaf.

“What, ma?”

“I am so proud of you, Regal” she repeated after the plane had passed. She now called me Regal as I no longer was a kid. “Donald must be so proud watching from above.”

Dad had passed away ten years ago. He had drunk himself to death. According to him, alcohol let him float above his eventless life, unhappy marriage and bitter disappointment in me, all of which eventually weighed him into the ground.

I fondly remember him for his words of encouragement. When I was feeling down, having scored just ninety percent or finished second, he always said, “Don’t be sad, Regal. I will drink for the both of us.”

My wife, Jehenna, pulled me from my nostalgia by the arm, kissed me on my cheek. “You happy?” she asked.

“I sure am. I fulfilled my mother’s dream.”

“Now, you start working on making me happy” she said, holding me by the collar. “You remember my dreams, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I am proud of you” she said loudly, escorting my mother into our new home.

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“V-O-L-C-A-N-0. Volikano.”

“Vol-cane-o”. My mother corrected me.

“What’s a vol-cane-o, ma?”

“It is a smoking mountain of watery fire” she said in a husky voice, widening her eyes.

“Really? A watery fire mountain!”

“Yes, indeed. And there’s more” she said with oomph, noticing the sparkle in my eyes and the wonder in my voice. “Mountains as tall as the sky covered in ice! Skies lit through the night by dancing lights! Forests so thick light doesn’t break inside! Lands of sand and snow that stretch for miles and miles!”

“Waaahhhhwww! I want to see them, ma. Take me.”

“When you are grown up as I am, you can go see them for yourself” she said, tapping me on the nose with her finger.

“But I wanna see them now.”

“You know what?” she said, “Even I dreamt of the same thing when I was your age. Grandpa Gus told me to wait until I was older.”

“Did you see them?”  

“No, I did not” she said, her voice dropping.

“Whyyyy?”

“I have a new dream” she said with a renewed firmness.

“What is it?”

Looking past me, she said, “To live in a house of our own.”

“Will the house fly to the fire mountain?”

Her eyes came back to me, befuddled and amused.

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My house. My own. Mine.

I had long dreamt of a magical solo entrance, in slow motion. As I took each step toward the house, I would traverse in thought, my journey of sweat and blood while witnessing the fruits of my labor. I wanted to savor this moment, revel in it.

I took in the view – the entirety of the house from one portion to another. After I had burned the image into my mind, I took the first step inside, past the large, black iron gates, hinged to 7 feet high walls that ran around the house.  

I now stood on a concrete path, as wide as the gate, that extended straight to the entrance of the house. On the left of the path, lay a finely levelled lawn with a wooden swing that hung from a wood-brown metallic frame. To the right, sat in elegance, a meticulously groomed flower garden that lined the inside of the wall with vibrant colors.

Almost as if in actual slow motion, I started walking toward the house.

“Ten years. A very long ten years to get to this point here. The pain and suffering, hard work and effort, I could now show for it.” Looking up to the heavens, I said out loud, “Dad, can you see yo- nyeeeeeeeaaaarrrrRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrummmmm....”

Damn it! I had to start over again.

I ran back outside, and began imprinting the image of the house again. I walked in, but now at a brisker pace. I was aware that I had a minimum window of twenty minutes, before I could encounter another annoyance of a plane.

“Ten years. A very long ten years. Having to fit in into twenty minutes is a really difficult task. But through pain and suffering, hard work and effort, I can do it. Dad, can you see yo- craaaaccckkkkk-”

I looked down to find I had stepped on an unusually large egg. And it had cracked open. My mother would have freaked out if she had seen it, but I myself got a bad feeling.  

“Dad, is something wrong with the house? Have I done something wrong here? For once, just once, couldn’t you just accept me for me.”

“Eeeen.”

I looked down and found a puny head sticking out from the hole I had stepped open. “Eeeen” cried the tiny creature, trying to break out of the shell. I took it in my arms and held it close to my chest.

“Thank you, dad.”

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“Quack!”

“Quack?”

“Yeah, daddy. Let’s call him Quack”, said my daughter, Lidova.

“But he’s not a duck, little dovey. Only duck’s quack.”

“What’s he?” she asked, looking closely at the skinny, skinny bird in my hand. 

“He is a…. What do you think we should name him, Donald?”

“Whatev” replied my son, his eyes firmly fixed on his video game.

“Donald, you have got a large lawn with a swing outside” I said, pushing his console down. “Why don’t you go out and play?”

He looked up at me and stared as though I did not know what I was talking about. “Nah” he said, “I like my room better.” He got up and walked away to his room, still playing the video game.

I wondered how the video game could be, in any way, more attention worthy than his new house. Of course, I was the one that got him the video game, but only because he was sad when I didn’t. And has he ever seen a baby bird? I very much dou-

“Daddy, what is he?” asked my little dove with impatient, curious eyes.

“He is Quack!”

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“Shall I push?”

“Nah. I can do it myself” said Donald. He was idly sitting on one side of the swing, resting his head on the chain.

“Why aren’t you pushing then?”

“Because I don’t like to” he said, getting irritated with my prodding.

“Eeen! Eeen!” cried Quack running away from Lidova, who was chasing it. Quack couldn’t fly yet but was very quick on its feet and could change direction seamlessly without losing balance. It wasn’t enough to put off my little dovey though. She ran and ran, and kept running after Quack.

We had lost power for a few hours now. It had gotten too hot inside and so we had stepped out for a seat under the stars. Fortunately, it was almost a full moon night. The flowers in the garden glistened in its light, and swayed to the tune of the occasional breeze.  

“Are you sleepy?”

“No” snapped Donald.

“Awww….Did your video game run out of power?”

 “Yeah” he said.

“Well, let me cheer you up.” I grabbed the swing by the chains, pulled it and then pushed it hard.

“Uhhhh!” squealed Donald, clinging to the chain on one side. “Plea- nyeeeeeeeaaaarrrrRRRRRRRRRR....”

“You want me to send you higher? Here you go!”

“Stoppp!” he cried, shouting over the roaring plane.

I brought the swing to a halt and he got down immediately.

“I was going to send you high up. Thought you would like it.”

“Daddy! Send me high up” said Lidova throwing Quack away and jumping onto the swing. “Push, daddy! Push!” Her legs were too small to touch the ground.

“I told you I don’t like it. It scares me” said Donald, his face red and flustered. “Oh, great! My console’s broken.” He picked the cracked device from the lawn and stormed into the house.

“Donald, come back!”

“Daddy!”

“I am sorry!”

“Daddy, push!”

He disappeared into the house, ignoring the questions from his mother and grandmother. The kid was scared of a little height from a swing, but absolute darkness didn’t even slow him down.

“Daddddddddddyyyyyyy!”

“Yeah, my little dovey?”

“Push. Send me high!” she said.

“I will, but not too high. You might get hurt.”

“But daddy-”

“No buts, little dovey.”

I pushed the swing a few times when the lights from the house lit the lawn.

“The power’s back. Let’s go to sleep, dovey.”

“Push me a bit more, daddy.”

“Maybe tomorrow dovey. I am tired.”

“But I am not” she protested.

I had to carry her back to the house.

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I was drenched in sweat. The sun was now overhead, and I had started when it had just broken the horizon. Taking care of the flower garden was tedious and exhausting. I almost wished I didn’t have it, but it was worth it. It was worth it.

“Eeeeennn!” chirped Quack. It ran towards me, and then around me. It was time for lunch. I wanted to complete the work, but decided against it and led Quack away. I was afraid of having to do over, with Quack running around recklessly. It was a bird after all.   

I got its food from the house and carried it to the lawn as Quack was no longer let inside. It had grown too big – as big as Donald’s bicycle, which he hardly rode. And it was still growing. I had built a wooden shelter for it in the lawn and was worried it would outgrow it.

Quack waited patiently beside me as I filled its plate. It used to jump around in excitement but somehow it understood that I was annoyed, and changed its behavior. I didn’t know birds could be so civil.

NyeeeeeeeaaaarrrrRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrummmmmmm....

As I sat and watched Quack eat, and the garden that still needed work, I felt alone. Probably because I was. The house was a lot emptier nowadays. No longer were anybody visiting the no longer new house, but everybody in the house were away longer and longer. I refused to join them, and ma stayed because she had to. Not because she wanted to.

Maybe, I should start drinking?

A nudge under my chin lifted me out of my thoughts. I hadn’t noticed Quack walk up to me. It rubbed its head against mine, urging me to pet it. Normally, I would, but I was not in the mood.

“Stop it, Quack. Not now.”

It tried a bit more, but I didn’t budge. It got on next to me on the swing and sat quietly. I saw that its plate was half full. Quack never looked up until every morsel on the plate was gone. I smiled and continued to sit in silence.

NyeeeeeeeaaaarrrrRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrummmmmmm....

“Alright!” I laughed. “You can go eat now.”

“Eeeen! Eeeen!” It rubbed its head against me and pecked me playfully.

“Okay! Here you go.”

I softly petted its head and stroked its neck slowly. Closing its eyes, and shaking its head, it chuckled with a low purr.

“Thank you, Quack.”  

I watched it eat. It must have taken tremendous control for it to have waited beside me. But then, I saw it stop for a second time, to look up at the sky. A squadron of birds, in the formation of a “V”, glided past us, gracefully in silence. It felt right, flying in tandem, together with family, in the harmony of home. But something was askew. Though, the lengths were same on both sides, on one side of the V were five birds while on the other there were only four. The gap wasn’t too conspicuous but was a blemish in the otherwise perfect setup. I could, maybe, add the last piece. I had the answer. I could kill two birds with one stone.

After the fleet were dots in the sky, I turned my attention to Quack. It lay beside the empty plate, asleep.  It was time I woke it up.

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Thick fog, black as the darkest night, gently swirled around me. There was no telling if it was day or night, or if I was even dead or alive. For all I knew, it could have been both or neither. I thought that the fog had moved so gradually and tenderly that I did not realize being enveloped by it. But being at the center of it, shrouded in absolute blackness, it dawned on me that it was I, who had slowly slipped into it. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t cold but there was no warmth either. I wanted to move, but I didn’t. The fear of heading down further petrified me. Ah…! I was at my lowest. It was at this very moment, I was lifted, up and out of the fog by a big, bright, warm ball of light. Breaking through the layers and layers of dark clouds, it carried me up until I was on my knees, in my lawn, trembling with emotion. My teary eyes followed the light as it continued to ascend without me, until it disappeared among the white of the clouds.

I could see the light even when I closed my eyes. For a brief moment, I believed my life was complete. But no. Not until I have told them of the miracle of Quack. The world needed to know of how a giant bird that was deemed to be flightless, flapped and flapped, so hard its wings should have ripped off, but didn’t stop until it had lifted off the ground. Only to flap harder, determined to stay in the air, zigging and zagging, struggling for direction, seeming almost about to drop, but only going higher. Higher and higher until it reached the heavens to knocked on God’s door.

“Dad!” I shouted from the bottom of my stomach. “Nyeee- Quack- eeee- has- aaaa- made- rrrrR- me- RRRR- proud- RRRR- BBBOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!”

The plane’s wing exploded and broke in half when Quack fell head-first on top of the turbine engine. The broken part of the wing flew away as the plane tilted to one side, and descended rapidly leaving a spiral of smoke from the flaming wing. The sheer size of the plane became apparent as it fell and then it broke into pieces on crashing into my house, where ma was taking her afternoon nap. Burning rubble flew past me, destroying everything around and setting fire to anything it could. Thickening smoke rose and filled all around me. I tried to walk towards my house, but visibility was thinning. I started to choke as smoke entered my lungs. My movements grew slow and unsteady and my sight became hazy. I remember seeing a silhouette against the background of my flaming house calling to me before all went black.

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The kids and my wife missed the garden and lawn as much as they did ma. Insurance had covered the damages and when I rebuilt, I left out the greenery. It didn’t seem worth the money, time and effort. Instead, I invested in a room in the space the garden was, with all basic amenities and rented it to workers from the airport. I did have a new swing installed, though, in the parking, which was the area that was the lawn. Yeah, I got a new car and was out at every opportunity. On the contrary, the family stayed in. They felt a greater appreciation for the house, life and me.  

The second first time entering the house was no big deal. It didn’t feel so, despite the loving reception I got. There was no slow walk. Just the normal walk at my own standard pace. No reveling thoughts of the turbulent past. My head was as blank as a slate. I did come across an egg though. Smaller than Quack’s, but I noticed it before I could have stepped on it. It made a delicious breakfast omelet for the family.

Everyone knew my face. Being the only survivor of a tragic accident that took the lives of a hundred people, including my mother, apparently made me a hero. The media blew it out of proportion and labelled me as a symbol of hope – one who rose from the burning ashes. What a load of crap! I couldn’t help but laugh when family and friends saw and treated me the same way. It was just hilarious! I just responded to it all with an “Eeeen”.

It was a warm, bright morning when I got ready to head out. Didn’t know where, just out. In the parking, I found dovey simply sitting on the swing looking down. Her feet touched the ground, but firmly in place. I went behind her and gently gave the swing a push. Surprised, she looked back at me. I smiled and so did she. With each push, I sent her a little higher. The smile turned into a laugh. I stopped pushing and she continued. I ended up spending the day with my daughter.