A Life with Feathers

Fakir sat crouched over his paper, writing with only lamplight to guide his hand. He pushed strands of hair behind his ear as his writing hand slowed down. Suddenly, he stopped, crumpling up the sheet of paper with his free hand. With a grunt he tossed it into a square bin that sat by the opposite wall a few feet away from him. "It's still not working," he whispered as he began writing over again on a new blank page.

"Quack?" came a sleepy response from the foot of his bed. Duck looked at Fakir with worried eyes, even as her eyelids drooped. "Quack quack quack."

"Yes, Duck, I know I need sleep," Fakir replied. He continued writing.

"Quack quack QUACK." Her voice was still coated with sleep, but Duck sounded annoyed and insistent.

With a sigh, Fakir scooted his chair back and turned around to face the small yellow duck. "How about you go to sleep yourself? I won't be up much longer."

"Quaaaaaa...." Duck started to quack at him, but it was interrupted by a yawn. Hopping into a large basket Fakir had turned into a bed for her, she settled into the pile of blankets and closed her eyes.

Another hour passed before Fakir set down his swan feather quill. During that time many more sheets of paper had turned into balls and fired into the square trash bin. He put the cork stopper on the inkwell and extinguished the lamp. Pale moonlight and bright light from the outdoor candle lantern lit the room just enough for him to be able to see Duck peacefully asleep. Smiling, he knelt by her makeshift bed and stroked her small feathered body with one hand. It still amazes how soft her feathers are, he thought. His other hand gently petted the top of her head. Maybe that's one reason she loves being a duck. At least, I think she does...

Then, a spontaneous idea surprised him. Why don't I turn myself into a duck instead of trying to turn her back into a girl? Maybe it would be better that way.

He imagined himself as a green-headed mallard with a body of dark feathers, swimming alongside Duck in the lake, being able to talk with her again. No, that's ridiculous, he thought, groaning. I have a life as a human - I can write as a human. I wouldn't be able to as a duck. Yet... Being covered in feathers doesn't seem so bad, and she did promise to become a duck again after returning Prince Siegfried to the story. That is who she is - a duck. Am I making her break her promise? No, there's no way she herself could break her promise. Not just that, but she still thinks and feels the way a human does.

He stopped stroking Duck, who remained asleep, and sat on his own bed. He set his hands in his lap, lost in his thoughts. Again he imagined himself as a duck alongside his own Duck swimming in the lake. Then, he imagined Duck as a human girl again, a girl he could dance with and hold in his arms.

He wasn't sure which one to choose.