Feeding the Ducks

Billy had waited for this day all week. He leaped from his bed, tossing the covers to the side ignoring the voice in the back of his head that was an echo of his mothers voice, "Don't forget to make your bed!" Today Billy was going to the park. It was Saturday and he had kept himself on top of his chores and homework earning this well deserved trip. Snagging the nearest shirt and shorts and slipping them on he shot down the stairs and into the kitchen. Breakfast was laid out upon the table, greeting him like a loyal dog after a long day. Pancakes, golden brown and thick, undoubtedly fluffy and sweet. There was bacon, freshly placed inside the blue ceramic serving dish lined with paper towel, still with the shine from the fat melted across its perfectly crisped surface. The clearly visible aroma reached upwards in ghost like flames and into his nostrils as he leaned over and took it all in. His mother, wide eyed and surprised cast a grin towards her son, "Someones up and rearing to go this morning. Must be my cooking?"
"It looks great mom," as Billy reached for the biggest piece of bacon.
"Hey! Go wash your hands and wait for your dad."
"Ugh" Billy spun around and headed for the bathroom.
"Can we go to the park after breakfast?" he yelled from the bathroom.
"As soon as we eat and clean up the dishes we can go but the forecast is calling for a nasty storm in a couple hours."
Billys heart dropped to his knees at this ominous report.
"Well we better hurry then!"
Billy scrubbed his hands clean of the invisible germs with the resolve of a starving lion and found his way back into the kitchen where his mom and dad were sitting, waiting for him. He sat down, took in a deep breath and looking at his parents with what are we waiting for eyes and said, "Lets eat!"


Billy and his parents arrived at the park. The sky was still bright blue and the sun shone bright over all that Billy longed to see. In the distance though, darkness drifted unobstructed towards him on winds unseen but very much felt. It was humid out but the storms breeze was cool and eerie. Billy grabbed the bag of dried bread and headed towards the watering hole. He walked out along the rickety wooden pathway that led him into the hoard. Their brown, red, and black eyes watched the bag in Billy's hands with vigilance as they floated indifferently in his direction. He came to the end of the wooden platform, surrounded by water with an island about 20 feet out in front of him. He reached into the bad as feathers started to rustle with eagerness. Billy grabbed a piece of the well expired honey wheat by one of the 90 degree corners and flung it like a backhanded tennis serve outwards over the pond towards the island. Mallards, Northern Shovelers, Goldeneyes, and a couple varieties of Mergansers cascaded towards their unearned prize. Their voices echoed off the walls of the nearby structures in approval of this strangers gift.