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- 05/05/2018
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Only Prompts - 18. All Your Ducks
Tag – List of Words
Use the following in a story – red basket, old coat, a boat, a diary, and a pear.
September 28, 2018
It's a gloomy day. Perfect for a last day, don't you think? If you were here you'd likely tell me to stop talking nonsense. But if you were here I wouldn't consider this my last day … I am going to take a walk through the orchard. I'll check on the trees, and your ducks.
Derek put his pen down, and closed his eyes. The only sound in the house came from the old mantle clock. Its loud clear tic toc was relentless, unless it was allowed to run down.
He left his diary open, with the pen in the gutter, and got to his feet. Leaving the office, he walked through the old farmhouse. The creak of the floorboards made him smile; he stopped and looked at his feet. "You remember when we first walked through here? Oh, you hated the squeaking—grew on you though."
After ducking through the doorway into the kitchen, Derek made his way to the mud room; where he pulled on boots and an old coat. He picked up a red, fruit basket and opened the wooden door. He walked out, pulling the door closed behind him. Squinting in the half brightness, he turned to the left and carried on toward the orchard.
The pear trees were at the end of their productive lives if the truth be told. "Lovely things but you've been here too long. And, well, last year you never got any attention from me. Too busy with Johnny." Derek rubbed a hand over the bark of a couple of trees as he passed them.
He walked on toward the large pond. Derek smiled as he neared and saw the ducks. "Oh, I love this place now, but we did argue over adding Duck Island. I gave in because I knew you didn’t really want to live out here." He set down his basket, and walked closer to the edge. A little boat sat partially in the water.
"I wonder if it will still float. I was neglectful last year, never pulled this out over the winter. You needed me more than this place did." Derek pulled the boat up the bank and flipped it over. The small flock of Pekins quacked in annoyance. "At least I got the birds into the barn for the winter."
Derek gazed at Duck Island. "It's a good thing you had DIY skills, Johnny. Remember rowing over there? You holding the wood and me pretending I could row. We laughed so hard, I thought we'd capsize the dingy. Ah, John … I do miss you."
Picking up the basket, Derek moved to a small feeder, and emptied his basket into a small trough. The Pekins, seeing food land in their feeder, started to swim in earnest to the bank. Derek walked away with the sound of happy quacking in his ears.
He walked back to the house, entered through the mud room. There he hung up his coat and removed his boots.
Then moving back through the kitchen he picked up a bottle which contained his medicine and ducked through the low doorway back into the sitting room. Next to the window was the liquor cabinet. From there he chose the bottle of his favourite whiskey and a crystal glass, and then sat down in the old green-leather easy chair.
Derek settled into the comfy seat, opened the bottle, and poured a measure into the glass. Lifting the cool crystal to his lips he sipped the whiskey, letting the heat of it fill his mouth. He swallowed.
Once the first glass was empty, he poured a second.
Picking up the pill bottle, he gazed at it and turned it in his hands. "Oh, Johnny. I miss you … love you." He put down the glass on the table next to his chair. He leaned forward, holding the bottle between his knees. "This was supposed to be the last day, John. My last day. But …."
Derek threw the bottle; it bounced harmlessly off the wall, and rolled into the kitchen. "But what good would my dying do Johnny? I'd leave this place, my work, our kids, the orchard, and the ducks. Forgive me, but I'm just not ready to go. I thought I was …."
The second measure of the amber liquid was swallowed in a gulp. Derek went into the office to use the landline there. As the phone connected and ringing was heard, he picked up his pen and held it in his hands.
"Hello?"
"Cary? It's Dad," said Derek. "It's good to hear your voice."
"Hey, Dad! How are you?"
"Good, son." Derek looked at what he'd written in the open diary. "Actually, Cary … not so good."
"Why? What's wrong, Dad? Do you want me to come? "
"Can you? I could use some company, if you can manage it."
"Yes, of course. I'll be there tomorrow morning. But tell me what's going on."
"Just lonely … thinking about Pops."
"Dad, it's a two hour drive. I'm leaving now. It's what 5:00? I'll see you around 7:00. I'll have my phone with me. Will you be okay until then?"
"Yes, Cary. Yes, I will. I'll cook."
"Great. Love you, Dad. I'm on my way."
"Love you too. Thanks, son."
"No need, Dad. On my way."
Derek returned the handset to its cradle. He wiped away tears that had somehow formed in his eyes. He sat down and pulled the diary closer so he could finish the day's entry.
John, the ducks are just fine. I had to phone Cary, he'll be here soon. I'll be fine too. You'll understand me not joining you today. I know what you'd say, what you did say, before …
"Live your life Derek. I lived mine, with you, and I have no regrets. Don't mope around, just get on with it."
I'll end this diary, our diary, here, Johnny. Thank you for a lifetime of memories.
Derek xo
______
Thanks to @mollyhousemouse for reading this over ... edited by myself only.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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