A Wooby’s Duty

Why did the stuffed duck cross the road?

That, thought Quackers Duckerson, was a hell of a question. Why, for Ruxpin’s sake, would a small, waddling creature attempt to cross a concrete path on which bicycles, ATVs, golf carts, motorcycles, unicycles, pedal cars, Volkswagons, and probably actual tanks regularly travel? Why would a proud duck, once the main prize in the biggest claw machine at the highest-earning pizza restaurant based on an animatronic animal, have waddled over a mile and face de-stuffing on a lonely concrete path under the wheels or treads of Gund only knows what?

The Child.

Quackers Duckerson was a Wooby and not just that, but a Wooby with a Name. There was no higher calling for any toy anywhere than to be Named by a Child as Wooby, the thing for which she cried in the car, the thing she cuddled at night. A Named Wooby was a Guardian against the Things that come at night to steal the good and pleasant dreams from the hearts of Children asleep. A Wooby was not just important; it was life. ​

And now the Child needed him. Quackers had felt her cry from under the bed where he fell earlier that morning when the Child’s mother had taken her for a walk, a cry of deep distress. She needed Quackers, her guardian and her friend, and Quackers would get his Child. No matter the distance. No matter the peril

Why did the stuffed duck cross this road?

Duty.

---

Tucked away in the place where I keep my unfinished draft stories is one I started several years ago and always meant to finish. It tells of a great battle in the bedroom of a young girl, a heroic and desperate fight between Woobies and Things. I suppose today’s story is my writer brain nudging me to do that sooner rather than later.

We shall see.

Play along with the writing prompt here.

(Photo Credit: Alexas_Fotos on Pixabay)