Bernard

Bernard walked to where the land and the water met and looked out. This was it and he knew it. He was at the edge. He was, quite simply, totally sick of all the bills and he just couldn’t take any more.

He knew what they all told him, knew their advice. ‘Be positive’, ‘focus on the good’ but he just wasn’t going to listen to the self-help ‘quacks’ any more.

He breathed in slowly and shuffled into the water. He looked down to see his feet changing colour as they submerged, reflections played across the tops. He moved further forward stopping only to pause when the water was half way up his body and he could feel a small sense of buoyancy, of support.

He lifted his feet and in one movement dived his head under the water. Within moments he had surfaced again his mouth filled with weeds that he began to swallow whilst feeling disgusted with himself. 

He turned to see the bank. There they all were, his family and friends just sitting there watching from the land and looking like little coloured rugby balls. 

God, he hated being a duck