by Phillip Cogger
A perfectly reasonable bird, a Garganey, a small duck. Nothing more than an unflinching, happy duck.
A pale wrist swelters, strangled by a bright gold watch. A pale hand, bulbous from kills, takes the Garganey and squeezes until the ducklings scamper.
The neck breaks, a Garganey dead.
The man walks back through an empty wood where a Garganey dead or alive has never been witnessed. A child with never a bad act to his name plans the demise of the man with a pale, bulbous hand.