Surely I'm not the only one who has a strange unexplainable memory from childhood. A mystery of a memory that to this day stands as clear and pronounced as those early morning thoughts after a couple of cups of fresh brazen coffee.
I was only four years old, close to five, but four. My best friend, Kelly, lived across the street from our Eichler home back in the "Mad Men" days of life in lazy California suburbia. Kelly had perfectly matched twin beds covered in fabric that sang of castles and Prince Charmings. She had an all-to-herself room, foreign to this little girl who shared small spaces with five other siblings. In my eyes, my friend's room was like a kingdom.
One foggy Friday night, we giggled and talked about boys, bugs and Barbie. We waded into hours untold and when we finally fell asleep, it was sudden and abrupt, like being plunged from a tower's peak into the dark abyss where things unseen were awake and unbothered by the light snores of sleeping girls.
Later, in the black void of a midnight room, Kelly shook me awake. She coaxed me with a firm and gentle nudge, "Come with me to the bathroom, I don't want to go alone."
I awoke quickly remembering I wasn't in my own room. I was on instant alert. This was my first "overnight" and despite my previous declarations of independence and adventure, I was suddenly longing for the softness of my Mommy and the strong presence of Dad. On the hallway to the bathroom, the ceilings loomed high, cavernous and full of unnameable spaces where surely monsters must be lurking.
I stayed focused on the back of my friend as I followed her obediently into the bathroom. She flipped on the light switch and my little soul settled. The world looked normal again. But Kelly heard a noise. "What was that?" she asked breathlessly, in a whisper, her face close to mine, her eyes as wide as my beating heart.
I told her I didn't hear anything but she was convinced she had heard something sinister, something bad. She marched with purpose into her parent's room with me following timidly behind like a second hand item from a neighbor's garage sale.
Kelly's father who certainly didn't possess the softness of my mother or the calming presence of my father got up reluctantly. Grumbling and mumbling like a sorcerer' curse, he grabbed a flashlight to prove to his insistent daughter and her mouse of a friend that there were no such things as ghouls who would snatch us to eternal prisons housed outside the light of this world.
The house was searched. Every corner, nook and cranny. And nothing. "See, girls, there's nothing here. I told you! Now back to bed!" He held Kelly's hand firmly as he escorted us back to our room. Once again, I followed behind like a dutiful servant with my head bent down towards the floor thinking only of "Home".
Suddenly, a bright glow caught my eye. I looked to the right of me and saw, with the innocent disbelief of a child, BRIGHT ORANGE GLOWING DUCK'S FEET. Yes, duck's feet! How could this be but yet there they were! No duck body, no duck head, just bright glowing orange duck's feet walking right next to me, keeping up with my every step.
There were no ghastly ghosts, no hideous zombies, no devious men with blood running down their scarred faces lurching towards me. This was how I knew it wasn't a nightmare. It was absurd! It was real! They were real! BRIGHT ORANGE GLOWING DUCK'S FEET! Not even the laziest of nightmares could have conjured that up.
I tried to speak, to call out to my friend and her silly father but I couldn't. The words refused to come held captive by my fear. Those glowing duck's feet illuminated evil. Short relief came when we were safely back in Kelly's room with the door shut tight and the lights kept on.
I told her about the orange glowing duck's feet and she laughed until her tears covered her frayed and well-loved blankie. I was incredulous. How could she not believe what I knew to be true? What I had seen?
Her laughter gradually turned to silence and the slow steady inhale and exhale of her breath as she fell back asleep was no comfort to me. I was terrified by those ill-intentioned duck's feet and wanted only to go home.
As soon as I heard the morning stirrings of the grown-ups, I jumped out of bed, got dressed, said a quick thank you and scurried out the front door and made a bee line for home.
I stormed through my front door demanding full attention. As I blurted out my truer than a nightmare story, my face burned bright red with the passion of fear and power stored too long. No matter no one believed me. I believed me and I was home and I was safe.
It would be years before I could spend the night at the homes of my friends. My mother spent many a late night picking me up from attempted slumber parties and failed all-night girl fests. I would be sick as a dog, sticking my head out the station-wagon window as the car weaved its angry way back down those twisted country roads that led us to Home. Gagging but never getting sick, I'd glance occasionally at the irritated frowns lining up in rows on my mother's face and I would turn, close my eyes and clinch my fists.
There are times I think back on that strange night so many decades ago and I can still see those bright orange duck's feet that scared me so and made my spine and memories morph into icy suspension. The mind of The Adult tells me, "Silly." "A bad dream." "A tall tale."
But the Child within me stomps her feet, shakes her head and insists with all her tiny forte, "It was real! They were real! I tell you, it was real!"
And the Me In The Now listens. And pauses. And thinks. And feels. And remembers. And closes her eyes. And clinches her fists.
And believes.
Mystery solved.
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Jesse Kavadlo
Mary Wagner
keri h
Frosty Funk
Wren Dancer
Liane Carter
Salon.com
Comments
When DEMON DUCKS attack, no one can hear you scream!!
You were very lucky to survive!!!
RATED!!
**wanders off into the thorn bushes with his tin foil hat on** Demon ducks can't track ya if you wear a tin foil hat!! ;)
♥R
Besides, Tink seems to have a pretty good grip on, well, something regarding DEMON DUCKS . . . so they must be real.
In short, I guess some adults never leave home without bread crumbs.
(sorry, couldn't resist)
Wonderfully told story, Mary
THIS GUY
lol
And don't let Tom Cordle bill you - he is a quack!
Just a guess...this seemed like a traumatic experience, one your friend helped to set you up for with her own fears. In fact, if your friend were a writer (she was a little young, perhaps!) I'd say she was engaging in some creative foreshadowing, something like the boy writing "redrum" on the mirror in "The Shining."
I wonder if your mind was playing tricks on you in response. Maybe Kelly's father had orange or another bright color of slippers, or your friend had a toy duck, and you fixated on that as an expression of your own sense of jeopardy.
You'd know more about that than I would! Nicely told.
I believe in your duck's feet!
rated
Great write, great story, and a damned traumatic thing, whatever the hell it was! This is the kind of stuff that matters to me. I guess that says a lot about where my head is.
Tink: Hi Tink! I don't know...you may have stirred up those demon ducts and do not be surprised if you get a visit one dark scary night. I need to go buy some tin foil. Thanks for reading!
scanner: I want to thank you for your inspiration from your duck post yesterday. I was flooded with these still terrifying memories after reading your very entertaining post about ducks and felt compelled to write. So thank you for reading and your very kind words. They really mean a lot to me and I thank you much.
FusunA: Thank you! I loved this, "A child's intuition and imagination sometimes disguise in the strangest forms." So true, so true and sad really when so many adults squash the interior of a child's heart. That turns out to be the most terrifying thing of all.
Owl: I agree with you. If adults would spend some time listening to young young children, really listening, we would all get one hell of an education. The focus of the story of course is really never on the inexplicable duck's feet, but on childhood fear and adult suppression. On the blurry lines between our imaginations and that which is real and unexplained. Of the power of fear and the hope of the Voice. And ultimately, the intricate and beautiful connection to ourselves. Thank you for reading!
neilpaul: Yes, exactly! What I didn't include in the story was that as I was absolutely terrified, I reached my little hand down to see if there was a body, a head, something to touch and I felt nothing. I suppose I could have tried to grab one of those orange glowing legs, but I didn't have the nerve, or the ability. Thank you so much for reading.
Tom: Well there was a LOL moment when I read your blasphemous mangling of my terrifying duck's feet. The AFLAC duck...aahhh, it was a comforting moment. I loved this one, "some adults should never leave home without bread crumbs," and now that you put it that way, I'm quite sure I never do.
As for psycho-analyzing my "dream", I suppose I could spent hours on the couch of a Freudian analyst...but I fear ending up wasting my time peeling the onion only to find there is no core, no center. I know you were kidding, but really, duck-bill away.
tea tom: Exactly! Who would have thunk it but it was my experience and I appreciate you recognizing the terrifying aspect of it from the eyes of a child. I laugh now but I was paralyzed then. Thank you.
Linnnn: Now that you mention it, I always loved Daffy Duck and Donald Duck. Now these were exactly friendly duck's feet, but yes, now in the light of the day, it was hysterical. Thank you for reading.
Just Cathy: It was fun talking to you this morning about our old neighbors. And you knew things I was never aware of. Talked to Joan too and this story brought up nightmares and images for her. Thank you so much for your wonderful words about the writing. I can't explain why, but something profoundly deep has been happening inside me since I started writing this last night. And I don't know what it means anymore than I do regarding the enigmatic duck's feet, but it's good. And expansive. I feel like I can breath. Love you sis.
Chuck: Chuck, always an honor when you read my stuff. I will ponder the walking thing...movement is always a good good thing. Thank you.
trilogy: Happy Birthday again! As for me being a "quack", ha! I've been called far worse things :) Thank you so much for reading and I hope you're having a fantastic day (or was it yesterday...).
XJS: Well, after seeing that picture (hysterical and disturbing), yes, things could have been far far worse! WTH! Thank you for a big grin.
kateasley: So now you have me intrigued. Really. At the time of the "duck feet incident" which like your friends, I will SWEAR TO YOU I SAW...and I had very vivid terrifying realistic nightmares as a child but I always knew they were dreams...we lived in San Mateo, California. And your friends' experiences...well, they gave me shivers down my spine. Thank you! I feel "validated" (oh, a wince of a word but in this case, it's the best one I can use).
Mimetalker: Thank you for understanding what I was saying in this post. I can feel that you believe and I appreciate it. Thank you for the supportive words about my writing. They mean a lot.
grif: Hi Grif! Thank you and good caution about TC!!! :)
Joan: Yes, big sister, this incident or whatever it was was so powerful it kept me phobic for years. Unnecessary really, but how would our parents know any of that? Thanks for being one of my biggest supporters, in writing and especially in life. Big feelings of love for you.
Gabby Abby: Yes, thank you. I know it sounds funny to suddenly see these ridiculous orange duck's feet, but I was 4 years old and it absolutely terrified me to the point of it affecting me for many years to come. Oh...I had a similar experience as you with the same fat old man with the red suit on and it scared me as well, but nothing like the duck's feet. I believe you too.
Susie: Okay, now we're talking a whole another level of scary! Captain Kangaroo...that guy always creeped me out which reminds me...Mr. Rogers...chills are running down my spine. Thank you for reading!
Damon E. Walters: You said, "An absurd manifestation of the fear instilled by your friend's action in an unfamiliar setting; thus your lingering aversion to places unknown. What a web she wove." Ah yes. I was a very quick learner thus leading to the lingering years of aversion. And she, just a child herself, but can I be honest with you when I say that even at her tender age, she just wasn't a very nice little girl..she was so pretty and had all things pink and perfect, but there was a hardness in her I didn't understand. Sister Cathy told me today her parents were raging alcoholics...it makes some sense as to why she was caught in their web. I love when puzzles get solved. Thank you.
Alysa: Yes, the trauma was there, and I can still see the clear and distinct outline of those duck's feet in my mind. There were other overnight traumas that didn't help. They weren't like this, but they weren't warm and cozy either. Childhood, a complicated affair really in so many ways. Thanks for reading and your thoughtful comment.
Oryoki: Yes, those waking dreams are always so much more realistic. But still, this was...sooooooo....real. Thank you for reading.
Will: Well, yes, what the duck indeed!! And we can easily write things off, especially in this case, in the mind and memory of a 4 year old. But if we expand and allow for other options, other possibilities, beyond the realm of comfort, then what might we find? I'm intrigued with your ghost hunter group and will look for your Halloween post. Thank you!
Megan: Well done! And may I be so humble to say that the type of work I do is much more pragmatic and solution oriented so I am no expert here, not even into my own 4 year old child's mind. But I loved your comment! And I am somewhat embarrassed now to admit that I did not know that our stress hormones peak in the middle of the night and that adds another solid piece to the puzzle. Hmmmm...I remember her whole name...wouldn't it be interesting to see if I could find her and see if she even remembers this night. I like your theories, though I have no memory of orange slippers or ducks. In fact, the duck's feet stood out for me as so entirely odd and unbelievable, of all things. I think I'd rather never find out...there's just too much rich material in this to have it spoiled by reality. Thank you so much for your very interesting response. I loved it.
Robin: I knew you would believe me Robin, I knew it. Thank you...hugs and love to you.
Roger: Hi Roger! I'd like to hear some of your scary stories and good for you and your then-wife to know that. I can tell you from true experience there is nothing worse than being stuck in a home that doesn't feel safe when you are a little child. It's way too powerless a feeling and unwise is the parent who thinks it's okay to let kids "tough it out". Not the night time stuff. Thanks so much for reading.
Sirenita: Apparently you're right...I've never trifled with a duck since!
Shiral: Especially neon ducks! You're right :)
AJ: I must look up "hypnogogic" asap and I appreciate that you know what I am talking about. Let me know when you're done with that book. And yes, it can be that simple...whatever the hell it was, it scared the hell out of me...and really, that is what matters. We get lost in content so much of the time. But it's really never about the content. It's what we do with the content that matters. I'm glad I'm not alone. Thanks AJ.
Scarlett: If the bed had started shaking, I think I would have made it home a whole lot sooner! Thank you for reading.
When I was the same age I was convinced beyond doubt that my grandma had come over to our house one night in a red outfit with a fringe, boots and western hats, had lifted one of our dining room chairs over her head, swung it around and hollered, "I'm a cowgirl!"
My mother was able to persuade me (with difficulty) that this couldn't possibly have happened, especially since we lived in Indiana and Grandma lived in Massachusetts.
Likewise, my younger sister was convinced for years that she used to be able to jump down our entire flight of stairs from second floor to first and emerge unscathed. She claimed she did it a lot. She's approaching 50, and I still can't tease her about it--she'll get all huffy and insist it really happened.
This is why I'm enormously skeptical of those who work with kids and claim to identify child abuse in alarming statistics. I once saw a lecture by a psychologist who claimed that fully 10% of the population has been sexually abused by a close relative, and did not "remember" it until "coached," some years later. It is so easy to plant a "memory" in a credulous mind. I wish your profession policed itself better, because there are innumerable charlatans practicing.
I think a point comes as our brains organize wherein we no longer experience the same level of magic, and that is sad. Perhaps that is the place psychodelics releases, I dont know. But the clarity of the change is very immediate to me to this day. And no, I'm not talking about flashbacks.
Aside from this musing, once again I have to say how much I love your writing!
Something in your story is like that. I'm glad no actual lives hung in the balance and that it was only a tale of Twelve Angry Ducks’ Feet. ;)
Best Wishes,
Blittie
I am over 50 now, and I still have a hard time convincing myself that I really *didn't* exit my house through the (second floor) dining room window on a regular basis. The "memory" of doing so is clearer to me than memories of things I did yesterday. It's creepy. It scares me if I think about it too hard because I cannot convince myself it didn't really happen.
Well written, thank you for posting this
The other thing that stands out is the fact that my earliest memories are all traumatic -- whether fear of the dog, or small child accidents, they all involve fear or pain, not joy. Burning my finger with the first attempt to light a match. Falling into a shallow stream while trying to cross on the rocks without getting wet. Swinging upside down on a chain suspended over the ground and falling on my head. Hearing the loud nighttime snores of my grandfather while unable to sleep in my grandparents' dark, unfamiliar, slightly scary room. Why are the earliest memories of unpleasant things, not happy things?
rated with love
As for your skepticism towards child therapists or really anyone who works with human beings, I'm with you! I'm quite a pragmatic therapist and I also understand the human being's natural tendency to want to rewrite their stories as they get older. I have complete contempt for any therapist who makes these claims and tries to go digging for things that cannot be proven, especially suggestions that could end up potentially with serious allegations that can never be proven. As in any helping profession, wise is the consumer who makes sure that the person they go see is well qualified and well trained. Thanks for reading and your good comment.
kate: Hey, maybe it's an Eichler home phenomenon. And Marin is certainly close enough to San Mateo!
NE: I knew that would be your sensible East coast rationalization.
Tim4change: Tim! Thank you so much for reading and your comment and your wonderful appreciation for my writing. That means a lot. I love your memory of being immersed in candyland. I think you're right about the brain changes and it is sad. But surely we can access these parts again, right? There must be a way. Let's work on it.
chloe wilder: Thank you!
Red Nose: A dream or perception of a brightly colored snake would be a wake up call, although it sounds beautiful really. At that young age, I determined to keep this memory, this experience of what I believe I saw intact...it's only been recently that I have doubted that it happened. Thanks for reading.
SpiritManSF: Of coure there was a small elephant under your bed! They just were told old to see it. Thanks for reading...it's always a privilege.
Kent: Yes, "no one knows" is where I'm landing on so many things these days. And I like your title, "Twelve Angry Ducks' Feet"...because you're right, they didn't look so happy to me at the time. Thanks for reading Kent..I always appreciate your perspective.
Misrule: Sinister marionettes...now that is seriously creepy!
doloresflores: Oh yes, you get it. You get the story. You know what I'm talking about. I think there are so many unknowable things that we've had "perfect clarity" about. Life truly is a wonder. Thank you!
mynameise: Yes...Dorothy knew it all along, she'd just forgotten. My mother would always say, 'There's no place like home" and she was right.
Joan H.: Thank you!!!!!!!! You know, I was able to send you the link because I wanted you to read it. I immersed myself in this piece and ended up spending hours on it, a rare thing for me. When I finished I told my husband, "I think I just wrote one of my favorite pieces" and I read it out loud to him, and he grinned and he smiled and he said, "Yes you did." He will be glad to know he is in such good company.
Blittie: Thank you so much for reading it.
Deborah: I like your explanation and I believe it. I really do.
A Persistent Muse: Thank you, thank you!
ms-nancy: Yes, I understand, I get it. And so maybe instead of it being scary that it may have actually happened, I think maybe it's cool that it may have; or how wonderful to feel so empowered as to be able to do that kind of thing. Thank you for reading! It was fun to get this comment.
Frank: Loved this, "a vicious chill"...a good description of how that would feel watching that white cloth at the age of 14. Thank you for sharing.
Dysfnctnltnkrbl: Thank you for reading and I'm glad it provoked some of your own memories.
Steve/Procopius: Childhood does seem to hold its fair share of unpleasant memories. Perhaps its that human tendency to focus on the things that scare us or didn't work out or caused us pain. We do this as adults. 10 people can say wonderful things to us and one comes along with a criticism and that becomes our only focus. I will say I have many more positive childhood memories than not, but I will always remember the pain of those first skinned knees. Thank you for reading.
Romantic: Well I just loved your comment and your very encouraging nudge. I'm thinking...I'm thinking. Thank you!
Meow.....!
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