Today

(c) by Hector Humberto Amaya 


Quack. Quack. Quack. Quack. Quack. He discovered the secret to happiness. It isn't a mystery like everybody says. The secret has been right in front of his eyes all these years. He didn't see it. Maybe he refused to see it. It's never been a secret. It's wide. Open. Visible.

He took the decision to go. He went. He found it. He saw it. Paradise. He walked around it. It 's shaped like the the letter F. An aquatic labyrinth. Deep-ocean blue in the afternoon. Black in the evening. He didn't want to leave.

A tall bird that looks like a flamboyant swan. What is it? A giant and haggard duck that looks like a turkey. One of many non-traditional ducks. Novelty or conspiracy? Turtles that are intimated by humans. Black ducks with green necks. Alluring. The tantalizing ducks are ravenous. A happy man who smiles too much and is eating chocolate. Children doing what children do best. The ducks, like the children, do what they do best. Quack. Quack. Quack. Quack. Quack. What an enthralling experience.

In his solitude, the tall bird flies into a country called Nostalgia. He wishes he had a dove to wipe the tears off of his long neck. The dirty swamp becomes an abyss.

A corpulent woman fishing. He wishes he had his camera. A pregnant woman who will be giving birth to a little duck in a matter of days, if not hours. Two women feeding the ducks. Some people playing golf. They go away. Bored. Perchance. The man eating chocolate and smiling too much said that to find peace and joy, one must come here. The man eating chocolate and smiling too much said he comes here every day. He notices that ducks only interact with people who bring them food. He observes that they run away from those who don't bring them food. The man eating chocolate and who smiles too much agrees. He wonders where these ducks come from. Nobody knows. The happy man who smiles too much and is eating chocolate theorizes that some people add to the population while others take away from the population. He wonders what the ducks are saying when they quak quack quack quack quack quack quack. The man eating chocolate and no longer smiling says that they are letting us know that they are hungry. Like babies when they cry.

A fiery sun invades the sky. It looks like somebody threw matches into the sky. He wonders how these ducks survive winter and summer. Is the water cold or hot? It looks cold. He won't find out. He wants to come here every day. Worship. Feed the ducks. Be happy. Walk. Think. Find peace. He wonders what agony the man eating chocolate is soothing by coming here every day. What passions is he avoiding? What fires is he extinguishing? The sky is burning of joy. Or is it melancholy? He'll never know. He wonders if this paradise is the hand of man. 

The sky stops burning. The man eating chocolate and no longer smiling begins to walk away like a distant dream. The tall bird finally flies in search of the dove that will bring him happiness. In a matter of seconds, he is gone from this world. This paradise is not for him. What's the meaning of his suffering? He'll find his dove. One day. Like the sky, he'll burn of love in a symphony of birds. 

He hears something fall into the dirty snake-owned water. It sounds as if an elephant fell into the water. Could it be the corpulent woman fishing? A new duck? Or was it a whale? Or an alligator? Or was it remorse? The pain of solitude, perchance? No. It was the man eating chocolate. He had amputated his suffering. Drowned his tears in this large body of water. He had ceased to exist. The snakes devoured him. The man eating chocolate is now one of the many ducks in the water. The man eating chocolate is as free as they are. Happy. Fulfilled. A joyful new creation. It was meant to be. The man eating chocolate quacks. So this is what peace looks, smells, and feels like. Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.

He, the observer, ran through the infinite labyrinth of men's dreams and desires to find help for the man who was no longer a man but a bone. But instead, exactly one hundred and ninety-three years and five hundred and twelve hours later, he found snow.