Bulgarian Creative Writing Competition

Dear friends,

We would like to share with you the story written by one of the winners of this year's Bulgarian Creative Writing Competition.

The orange duck who loved parachuting

They had first met in the tiny park near the building where he lived. He had bumped into her during his daily jogging and had fallen on the ground. She had helped him up and then he had stood there for fifteen seconds, speechless, examining her face, her crystal blue eyes, and, of course, her fiery orange hair. He didn’t believe in nonsense such as love at first sight, but he had definitely felt something there.

That night they had gone to the nearby bar – an interesting change of environment, compared to his office, where he spent most of his time. They had talked for hours and hours, and after that they had gone in his little apartment. He couldn’t remember anything else from that night.

*****

“Parachuting lessons”, the big sign on the entrance to the hangar read. He couldn’t understand how he’d ended up there. He was used to his quiet lifestyle and every thought of something extreme was almost frightening. But she had asked for this for so long. And even though he didn’t want to admit it, she was right – he definitely liked the sudden rush of adrenaline. She was also happy – and that meant he was, too.

Fifteen minutes later they were on the plane. He stood nervously before the open door, the air furiously blowing in his face. He tried to motivate himself. He suddenly felt her hand on his shoulder.

“You can do it, honey.” she said. “Just take a step forward.”

And he did.

The euphoria he felt was unbelievable. He was soaring through the air, like an eagle hunting his prey. He heard her voice – yells of happiness.

When he felt the time was right, he pulled the string on his backpack and his parachute went off. He looked up – she still had a hundred or so meters left to go.

He suddenly realised something was wrong. She didn’t stop – she continued falling at full speed. Then he heard her scream.

Impulsively, he started heading her way, in his mind the hope that he could reach her, save her. He couldn’t.

Everything blacked out.

*****

He was looking through the window. In his sight was the miniature pond in the park. He had never looked at it for too long while jogging. Now he could clearly see a family of ducks, swimming in the water. The colorful feathers of the mother. Five yellow ducks cheerfully gathered around her. Actually, four. One duck stood out. With its fiery orange feathers.

He realised he was smiling, even though his eyes were starting to wetten up with tears at the memory of her. The bird that wanted to fly but couldn’t.

*****

He woke up in a puddle of sweat. He looked at the alarm – there were still about twenty minutes until it signaled he had to wake up.

He felt something and suddenly looked next to him. Her head was lying on his left shoulder, her orange locks spilt all over his chest.

Something struck him. He stood up carefully, trying not to wake her up. He ran to the window.

Even without his glasses, he could see the orange duck, asleep on a rock in the middle of the pond. He felt the tears in his eyes once again.

“What’s the matter, honey?” he heard her voice. “Are you ready for the big day? Our first parachuting lesson!”

He smiled at her.

“Of course,” he whispered. “my little orange duck.”

Links:

• 2018 BCWC collection of winning works