The Duck Who Wanted to Be Quiet
Deep in a pond where the lily pads floated like green plates, there lived a small duck named Pip. And Pip had one big plan for the whole entire day.
"Today," said Pip, "I will be the quietest duck in the world."
The morning was soft. The reeds swayed. Pip paddled out to the middle of the pond, sat up tall, and pressed his beak shut.
Very quiet. So quiet.
The water was still.
The sun was warm.
Pip was proud.
Then a bubble came up from deep in his tummy. A tiny bubble. A tickly bubble. And Pip could not stop it.
"HIC!"
The frog on the lily pad blinked.
"Oh no," whispered Pip. "That does not count. I am the quietest duck in the world."
He sat up even taller. He held his breath. He looked at the clouds.
"HIC-QUACK!"
The bubble was bigger this time, and it brought a quack along with it, and the quack bounced right across the water. FLOOP.
The frog giggled. The dragonfly wobbled. A turtle poked his head out to see.
"That still does not count," said Pip, though his face had gone pink. "Watch. I will be quiet as a stone."
Pip closed his eyes. He wiggled his tail down into the cool water. He thought about the softest, sleepiest things — snug nests and slow clouds and gentle rain.
The reeds bowed low.
The pond held its breath.
And then —
"HIC-QUACK-SPLOOSH!"
This one was enormous! The hiccup shook his feathers, the quack popped out sideways, and Pip flipped upside down with his little duck feet in the air. SPLOOSH!
Up he bobbed, dripping and blinking, a lily pad sitting right on his head like a silly green hat.
The frog laughed so hard he fell off his leaf. PLIP. The turtle chuckled a slow bubbly chuckle. And Pip — well, Pip looked around at all his friends laughing, and something warm began to tickle inside him, and it was not a hiccup at all.
"HIC!" went Pip.
"HA!" went the frog.
"HIC!" went Pip.
"HA-HA!" went everyone.
And now Pip was laughing too, big duck laughs and little duck hiccups all mixed together, until the whole pond was giggling and rippling and shining in the sun.
"I am not the quietest duck in the world," said Pip, wiping his eyes with his wing. "I am the hiccupiest."
And somehow that felt even better.
The frog paddled close. The turtle paddled close. Pip floated in the middle of them all, warm and wet and happy, with the lily pad still perched upon his head.
The water grew calm.
The friends grew calm.
One last little hiccup went by.
Slowly, the giggles softened into smiles. The dragonfly settled on a reed. The turtle tucked his head back into his shell. The pond turned gold, then rosy, then a soft and sleepy blue.
Pip felt the water hold him, gentle as a hand. The lily pad slid off his head and drifted away on the quiet.
He was not being quiet on purpose anymore. He was just quiet, the easy way, the way a pond goes quiet when the day is done.
"Goodnight, pond," he whispered.
And the reeds bowed low, and the frog closed his eyes, and Pip tucked his beak beneath his warm wing. One small hiccup rose up from his tummy, soft as a bubble, and floated off into the dark.
The pond was still. The pond was calm. And Pip, hiccupy and happy, rested in the middle of it all.