In The Moment By Scout Esparza

Dead Ducks

The ducks had died. They laid scattered
across the yard as if it were a battlefield. They were motionless and mangled, a sense of nothingness in their unblinking eyes. I felt a scream get lodged in my throat and my face heat up as I looked at the horrific scene. I stumbled back into my home and tried to get a hold of myself. I had seen death before, but it still seemed to get the best of me each time. Those animals that had once felt joy and excitement could no longer feel anything. The only thing those corpses could do was lie in a pit of darkness.
Days had passed. The ducks were still there, like a reoccurring nightmare. I could see them from my bedroom window. The scene would haunt me no matter how many times I looked.
Flies had developed a liking to the ducks. They darted through the air and crawled on their dirty feathers. Each day their bodies would look a little smaller; a little more rotten. And you could smell the rot in the still air. It was a smell that would bring tears to your eyes and cloud your thoughts with despair; it was terrifying.
          And then, a couple weeks later, the remains of the corpses were cleaned up. There was no sign of life that had existed before the accident. There was no proof of their existence, no imprint left on the world from them, there was just a quiet backyard, covered with dirt and greenery. Despite them disappearing from the world, time continued on because time doesn't stop for anyone or anything.