By someone who definitely didn't expect this story to involve so much quacking.
It was a sunny morning in the quiet little town of Willowbrook. Paulina, a cheerful girl with raspberry-pink hair and a blue ribbon always tied perfectly in her braid, had one simple plan: go to Lake Tilly, dip her toes in the water, and maybe sketch a duck or two if they were feeling photogenic.
But today, Lake Tilly had… other plans.
As Paulina stepped onto the familiar trail down to the lake, humming a tune from her favorite RPG game, something yellow caught her eye through the trees. Something massive. Something… suspiciously round.
“Oh no,” she muttered. “Did someone leave a blimp in the lake?”
But as she approached, her eyes widened. There, floating perfectly still in the center of the lake like it was waiting for her, was the biggest rubber duck she had ever seen. Not just “bath toy big”—ride-a-rollercoaster-on-its-back big.
Naturally, she did what any curious, slightly impulsive girl would do: she ran toward it barefoot, splashing into the water without hesitation.
With a bit of awkward climbing (and one mildly embarrassing slip off the tail), Paulina managed to get on top of the giant duck. Surprisingly, it was warm—like it had been basking in the sun just for her. She looked around. No strings, no signs, no “Property of Mr. Giant Duck Co.” label. Just… there.
She squinted across the lake. “Alright, Mr. Duck. Let’s go.”
And go it did.
As soon as she said those words, the duck moved. Slowly at first, but with purpose—gliding across the glassy water like it had a GPS and an espresso shot. Paulina screamed, then laughed, then screamed again, then held on tight with the biggest grin on her face.
She passed the old fishing pier where Old Man Gruber dropped his sandwich in shock. (“Dang girl ridin’ a duck like it’s a jet ski!”) She waved at some ducks who looked confused. (“Greg, are we out of a job?” one duck might’ve said if ducks could talk.)
Paulina’s hair whipped in the breeze, her feet dangled just above the surface, and her heart raced with the joy of pure adventure. She didn't know where the duck was going—but honestly, she didn’t care.
After what felt like an hour of gliding, spinning, and doing what could generously be called “duck donuts,” the big yellow floaty came to a gentle stop near her starting point. As if it had just wanted to give her a tour.
She hopped off, soaked and giggling, and looked back at her new feathery friend.
“So,” she said, hands on her hips. “You gonna tell me where you came from?”
The duck said nothing. Of course.
Paulina waited a few more minutes to see if anyone came out yelling “Hey, you stole my duck!” But no one did. No clues. No signs. Just one massive yellow mystery.
With the sun starting to dip and the wind tugging at her damp skirt, Paulina gave the duck a little salute.
“Same time tomorrow?” she asked with a grin.
The duck didn’t answer, but she swore it winked at her. (Okay, maybe it was just the sun reflecting weird. Or maybe… ducks have secrets.)
To this day, no one knows where the rubber duck came from. But Paulina? She made it part of her weekly schedule.
Wednesdays: web design client calls.
Fridays: video games and memes.
Sundays: rubber duck lake adventures.
Because sometimes, the best adventures in life… just float into your day.
🦆✨
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