The Ugly Duckling: A Lois and Clark Fairy Tale
by Shayne Terry <byron212@yahoo.com
Rated G
Submitted October 2002

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Once, in a park on the edge of Hobbs Bay, a duckling was 
born. She looked like all the other ducklings, but from the 
very beginning it was clear that she was different from all 
the others. Instead of following her mother and doing the 
things the other girl ducklings did, she tried to imitate 
her father and the other drakes.

Her father, a gruff old bird who had lost many of his 
feathers, rarely had time for her. He did his best to push 
her back into the nest, but no matter how often he pushed, 
she'd always leap out and follow him. The other drakes made 
fun of him, saddled with this odd duck child, and they 
laughed at her. She pretended she didn't care, but each 
insult was like an arrow to her heart. In time, she came to 
feel ugly inside.

Despite the derision of the other birds, she excelled at 
doing what the drakes did. She swam faster, she was more 
aggressive at stealing bread from the children who came on 
Saturdays, and in time she found that she could force any 
bird on the lake to back down simply by an effort of will.

The duckling was better at being a duck than any of the 
adults, but she was alone. While the others danced gently 
on the water, pairing off with an instinct older than time, 
she was left as an onlooker. When the others made love, had 
children, took joy in their families, she was left on the 
outside looking in.

She was alone even when surrounded by the others, and with 
each passing day something inside her died. The duckling 
came to believe that she was irredeemably ugly inside, and 
she did everything she could to try to ignore that feeling. 
Fighting even harder, she gained a reputation with the 
other ducks. They called her "Mad drake", despite the fact 
that she was neither mad, nor a drake.

The name only increased her sense of isolation. The harder 
she fought to fit in, the farther the others pulled away 
from her. She began to despair, to feel that she would 
always be alone. The feeling of emptiness was almost more 
than she could bear.

Throughout the long winter, she'd cry when the others were 
asleep. While the others huddled closely together, basking 
in the warmth of family, she shivered and suffered.

In time, spring came, as it always did, and with it, a 
thaw. The duckling by now was no longer a child, but a 
fully-grown female in her own right. She was attractive, 
but the drakes feared her, and still she was alone.

Searching for frogs one evening, she swam gently through 
some weeds and stumbled onto something she'd never seen 
before. A great bird, graceful and white sat by the shore. 
It was disconsolate, its long, slender neck drooping as it 
stared at its own reflection in the water.

Another duck might have feared to approach such a bird, for 
though it was beautiful, it was new and strange. The 
duckling, however, wasn't afraid of anything but being 
alone. As she was already alone, she had little fear of 
anything else.

"Why are you sad?" she asked, swimming silently up to him.

The swan didn't look at her for a moment. "I'm the last of 
my tribe, and I'm all alone."

"Being alone isn't so bad," she replied. "I suppose you 
could always try to change your feathers and join with the 
others, but why would you want to?"

The swan nodded slowly, but a gleam appeared in its eye.

They talked, and they swam together, and the duckling was 
almost overwhelmed. She felt as though she was no longer 
alone. They agreed to meet the next night, and she went 
happily home.

A new drake appeared in the flock the next morning. He was 
handsome and competent and good at all the things drakes 
should be good at. He was interested in her, too, something 
that the other birds whispered about.

The duckling spurned him. Her mind had no room for anything 
but the great white bird, the graceful neck, and the 
reflection on still waters. Despite her rejection, the 
drake followed her, challenging her to be better than she 
was.

That night, the swan seemed sadder than it had the night 
before, but they still spent an enchanted evening together.

One evening followed another, spring falling into summer. 
The drake never ceased his efforts to come into her good 
graces, and she never gave him much hope. She grew 
comfortable with him, however, and in time, that feeling 
grew into affection. The drake was a good companion, 
enjoyable to be with during the day, and somehow, she felt 
less ugly when she was with him.

The swan remained mysterious. No matter how many evenings 
they spent together, she never felt as though she knew his 
heart. Always, there was some sort of secret sadness in his 
eyes. She began to despair of ever being with him.

When the drake who led the flock began to take interest 
her, the duckling felt flattered. She wanted all the things 
the other ducks had: the closeness, the family, the simple 
happiness in life. It was becoming apparent that she had no 
future with the swan, and though she had a drake she 
thought of as a friend, she'd long dismissed the idea of 
making him her mate.

Her friend came to her, begging her not to marry the leader 
of the flock. He claimed he loved her.

Though it hurt the duckling, she quietly told the drake 
that her marriage plans were set. He was her friend and 
nothing more, and that was simply the way of life.

On the night before she was to become a duck-wife, the 
duckling came to the swan and asked him directly whether 
there was any chance that they might become mates.

"I have to wonder," said the swan, "if you are blinded by 
my white feathers, by my slender neck. Do you really love 
me for who I am?"

"I'd love you if you were no different from any other drake 
on the pond," she replied fervently.

"Under the circumstances, I can't believe that." For the 
first time that they'd known each other, the swan swam away 
from her.

Saddened and angered, the duckling returned to the flock, 
determined to marry the drake leader and make what little 
she could out of life.

Oddly enough, throughout the long night, the image of the 
swan was replaced with the image of her friend. Her friend 
was strong and handsome, everything a drake should be. If 
he'd wanted to be leader of the flock, he could have been. 
Instead, his only purpose in life seemed to be to love her.

The thought that the swan rejected her hurt, and over the 
course of the night she came to realize that she cared as 
much for the drake as she ever had for the swan. Marrying 
the leader, living without love, was more than she'd be 
able to bear.

She'd have rejected the leader, but she never had a chance. 
He was killed in an accident, the way ducks sometimes are.

Turning to the drake would have been the most natural thing 
in the world, but he was still smarting from her rejection. 
The duckling knew it would take time to heal the wounds 
she'd dealt him, but she had nothing but time.

Her evenings with the swan grew fewer and fewer as she 
spent more of them with her friend. In time, they 
acknowledged the love that was growing between them. The 
duckling didn't feel ugly when she was with him; he made 
her feel beautiful in a way she'd never realized was 
possible.

On an evening in late autumn, she went to the swan to tell 
him goodbye. She'd found the friend she wanted to spend the 
rest of her life with, and although she still sometimes 
dreamt of white feathers and an arching white neck, she was 
willing to close that part of her life away forever.

"Part of me will always love you," she began, "but I've 
found the drake I want to spend my life with. He loves me, 
and I love him, and when I'm with him I don't feel alone."

"You'd give me up for him?" the swan asked quietly.

Dipping her head, she looked back up at him. "I think he 
wants me to be his wife."

The swan was silent for a moment, then said, "What would 
you say if you discovered that he'd lied to you?"

"I'd be angry," the duckling said, "but I love him. Love is 
about forgiveness."

Dipping his head, the swan said, "Then I have something to 
show you."

Stretching his head, the swan twisted and shrank. His 
beautiful white feathers shifted into a more common brown 
color. With a swimming head, the duckling realized that she 
knew the shape the swan was taking.

Her friend the drake sat before her.

"Which is the real you?" She couldn't help the anger and 
hurt in her voice. "Did you just take on the white feathers 
and the long neck as a way to impress me?"

"My real body is that of the swan, but inside I've always 
been the drake." The drake stared at her for a long moment. 
"I didn't want to make you an outsider just because I was."

In time, the duckling forgave him, and she discovered that 
she had the best of both worlds. By day she had a drake who 
could challenge her, be a partner, a helpmate and a lover.

But by night she got to fly with the swan.

Being a swan-wife was more than she ever could have hoped 
for. Best of all, she knew she'd never be alone.