Just Ducky
Ri-duck-ulousness.
"And... why can't you go to the pond with me?" the voice of your boyfriend drones over the phone. You've been over this a thousand times. How does he still not understand?
"Are you insane?!" you whisper back furiously, clutching the reciever as though it were your only lifeline in a vast ocean of baby sharks. "I can't! You know what's in that pond."
"Uh... water?"
"No, genius, not water!" you all but shout, but then you falter slightly. "Well, uh... I mean, yeah, there's water, but... Fuck, that's not what I mean!"
"Oh... is it about the d--"
You cut him off. "No. No, don't use the word. Don't. Even. Speak it." You feel yourself working into a panic already, and you have to take a few deep, shaky breaths to calm yourself down. "They'll hear you. They'll hear you and they'll come and nobody will be safe..."
"Come on, they're not Voldemort," Ian says, and you can imagine him rolling his eyes at you. He doesn't understand how terrifying this is, does he? "They aren't going to magically appear if you say their name."
"You. Don't. Know. That." Doesn't he understand? They're everywhere. Always. The creatures are some invisible entity, hiding in the shadows, invisibly cataloging your every move, every breath you take, putting them into some disturbing ducky database. God knows what they're going to use this information for.
"Look, if I say 'ducks', they will not magically appea--"
"WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?!" you screech, eyes darting around. You swear, you can almost see them, their beady little eyes trained on you, watching your every move...
"Mia. MIA. Jesus Christ, just listen to me for once, why don't you!" His voice sounds through the error-induced trance you'd unwittingly placed yourself in, and you merely whimper in response. "Look, I'm coming over. You're coming to the pond. And we are going to finally face this ridiculous fear of yours. Understand?"
"B-but... the ducks--"
"Forget about the fucking ducks already!" he snaps. "Why the hell are you so afraid of being watched by ducks, anyway? Is that even a legitimate thing?"
"Anatidaephobia is not something to be taken lightly, jackass," you grumble irritably, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance despite the fact that he can't see it. And you can't help but go into another sort of reverie. Why are you so afraid of being watched by ducks? You suppose it is rather irrational, but what triggered this phobia in the first place?
You remember seeing, vaguely, through still-developing infant eyes, looking at a blanket draped over your tiny form. Little yellow birds are staring back at you, looking grotesque and menacing, never blinking. They are always there, whether you are asleep or awake. Always watching. Fast-forward to two years later. You're sitting in the bath tub, giggling. You're surrounded by bubbles, and splashing happily in the water. And then, you see it. The thing. That squeaky, yellow monstrosity. It just sits there, staring at you, unblinking. You stare back in horror at the sinister creature, and you begin to cry.
From then on, you began to have nightmares. Your subconscious contorted that squeaking beast into a snarling demon, beady red eyes burning with the fires of Hell itself, constantly trained on you. It multiplied. They watched you. Followed you. You were never alone. You were never safe.
...Okay, so maybe it is a little silly. But there is absolutely no way in hell you are going to accompany your boyfriend to the pond. You'll try to tackle your phobia, but you're not ready for that step yet. And there is no way in hell that you are going to let anyone force you into something you're not ready for.
"Mom?"
"Yes, dear?"
You pause, then cough in a rather showy fashion. "I think I'm getting the flu. If Ian comes, tell him I'm not well enough to go out today. I'll take a rain check, alright?"
Your mother sighs from the other room. "The ducks again?"
"Bingo."
"Are you insane?!" you whisper back furiously, clutching the reciever as though it were your only lifeline in a vast ocean of baby sharks. "I can't! You know what's in that pond."
"Uh... water?"
"No, genius, not water!" you all but shout, but then you falter slightly. "Well, uh... I mean, yeah, there's water, but... Fuck, that's not what I mean!"
"Oh... is it about the d--"
You cut him off. "No. No, don't use the word. Don't. Even. Speak it." You feel yourself working into a panic already, and you have to take a few deep, shaky breaths to calm yourself down. "They'll hear you. They'll hear you and they'll come and nobody will be safe..."
"Come on, they're not Voldemort," Ian says, and you can imagine him rolling his eyes at you. He doesn't understand how terrifying this is, does he? "They aren't going to magically appear if you say their name."
"You. Don't. Know. That." Doesn't he understand? They're everywhere. Always. The creatures are some invisible entity, hiding in the shadows, invisibly cataloging your every move, every breath you take, putting them into some disturbing ducky database. God knows what they're going to use this information for.
"Look, if I say 'ducks', they will not magically appea--"
"WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?!" you screech, eyes darting around. You swear, you can almost see them, their beady little eyes trained on you, watching your every move...
"Mia. MIA. Jesus Christ, just listen to me for once, why don't you!" His voice sounds through the error-induced trance you'd unwittingly placed yourself in, and you merely whimper in response. "Look, I'm coming over. You're coming to the pond. And we are going to finally face this ridiculous fear of yours. Understand?"
"B-but... the ducks--"
"Forget about the fucking ducks already!" he snaps. "Why the hell are you so afraid of being watched by ducks, anyway? Is that even a legitimate thing?"
"Anatidaephobia is not something to be taken lightly, jackass," you grumble irritably, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance despite the fact that he can't see it. And you can't help but go into another sort of reverie. Why are you so afraid of being watched by ducks? You suppose it is rather irrational, but what triggered this phobia in the first place?
You remember seeing, vaguely, through still-developing infant eyes, looking at a blanket draped over your tiny form. Little yellow birds are staring back at you, looking grotesque and menacing, never blinking. They are always there, whether you are asleep or awake. Always watching. Fast-forward to two years later. You're sitting in the bath tub, giggling. You're surrounded by bubbles, and splashing happily in the water. And then, you see it. The thing. That squeaky, yellow monstrosity. It just sits there, staring at you, unblinking. You stare back in horror at the sinister creature, and you begin to cry.
From then on, you began to have nightmares. Your subconscious contorted that squeaking beast into a snarling demon, beady red eyes burning with the fires of Hell itself, constantly trained on you. It multiplied. They watched you. Followed you. You were never alone. You were never safe.
...Okay, so maybe it is a little silly. But there is absolutely no way in hell you are going to accompany your boyfriend to the pond. You'll try to tackle your phobia, but you're not ready for that step yet. And there is no way in hell that you are going to let anyone force you into something you're not ready for.
"Mom?"
"Yes, dear?"
You pause, then cough in a rather showy fashion. "I think I'm getting the flu. If Ian comes, tell him I'm not well enough to go out today. I'll take a rain check, alright?"
Your mother sighs from the other room. "The ducks again?"
"Bingo."