The Red Duck

Welcome to the Spot Writers. This week's prompt is to write a story in which something red plays a role.

Today's tale is from Val Muller, author of the kidlit mystery series Corgi Capers. 

The Red Duck

by Val Muller

It was the kind of week that leaves the house completely upheaved. A swim meet delayed to lightning. Getting home past eleven. A morning practice. An afternoon parade. Volunteer hours. 

It seemed everywhere were pieces of summer. A garden trowel with hastily-planted tomatoes nearby. A wet towel left in the van. Waterguns draining on the back patio. A swim bag doubling as a parade bag, then a fireworks snack bag, then a swim bag again.

The scent of chlorine was everywhere. Sticky with sunscreen or chlorine or melted ice cream no matter how many showers. 

And in the midst of it all, the red duck. The eldest had won the rubber duck at a swim meet, a demented looking thing. The toddler took one look, and it was love at first sight. The duck went everywhere with her. It was fed pieces of her lasagna at dinner. It went swimming with her and joined her for bath time. It drank from her sippy cups befire she did. It cuddled with her at night. 

She briefly loved the duck even more than her obsessive love of motorcycles and horses. 

If it hadn't been such a busy week, both parents would have been worried. Attachment to such an object was usually short-lived, but it was intense. And losing the object could have dire consequences. They all remembered what happened to Floppy around Easter. After Floppy's unwilling mud bath, the toddler's parents were horrified to learn that Floppy was not, in fact, machine washable. 

They were as careful as they could be about losing the duck, but on Fourth of July week, with parades and fireworks for days, keeping the kids safe and accounted for was more important than a duck.

In some ways.

When they lost the duck at the July 3 fireworks, they knew they were in trouble. It was late, so they were able to get her to bed without the duck. They almost believed themselves when they told the sleepy toddler that the duck was safely packed in one of the fireworks bags, maybe the one that had all the snacks in it.

But in the morning when they unpacked from the fireworks, the duck was gone.

They called the park, but who would go out of their way to take a red rubber duck to a lost and found? 

No one.

They went to the morning Fourth of July parade, and luckily the excitement kept the toddler distracted. But they knew it was only a matter of time. 

For now, they rejoiced in the fact that the parade featured both motorcycles and horses, sending the toddler on a wave of adrenaline that they hoped would negate the disappearance of the duck. 

Afterward the parade, the toddler wailed, shouting more horses, more motorcycles!. She fought against her car seat and railed against going home.

When she finally listened to her parents' statements that the parade was over, she fell back to her demands for the duck. 

Red duck! Red duck!

The tired parents looked at each other. No one knew where the swim team had gotten such weird rubber ducks for their prizes, but it sure wasn't anywhere local. 

Driving home, the demands turned to a sad moaning. The horses were gone. The motorcycles were gone. The parade was over, and Red Duck was nowhere to be found. 

They turned toward home, and that's when they saw them. Four of the horses from the parade were walking down the street, their riders waving to pedestrians. The car passed the horses, then they found a safe place to pull over. 

They pulled the toddler out of the seat and pointed to the horses behind them."Horses," they said.

The toddler squealed in delight. Thoughts of the missing duck were gone. Three of the horses passed by, their riders smiling at the toddler. The fourth stopped, noticing her excitement. 

"You want to pet him?" the rider asked. 

The toddler quieted and reached her hand out, suddenly timid but also determined. When her hand touched the horse, her face broke into a smile that stayed long after the horse rode away.

There were no cries for a lost duck after that. Instead, the car was filled with happy babbling--the toddlers own version of Independence Day fireworks. 

The Spot Writers--Our Members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/

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