The Ducks

There's a wall made of ducks.

Floating in the skies, high above the mountains, into the darkness that is on the edge of Earth's protective atmosphere, is an island. The island is a huge circular plate that revolves slowly. It has a lake, it's own land masses, shores and vegetation. The lake sits in the middle of the island and creates the island's own atmosphere.

Multicoloured ducks glide across the lake. Silver fish with mirror like scales dart to and fro beneath the surface. When a breeze stirs, it causes the reeds to shake and make the sound of tubular bells. There is no other life on the island but a large pair of disembodied hands whose job is to look after the place.

Every now and then, the large pair of hands, will pluck a stone from the golden sand of the lake's shores and toss it into the water. Crystal drops of water splash upwards, and as they land, they form more ducks and fish; making a soft popping as they do.

On one side of the island is a wall of ducks. The hands will come together to form a cup, carefully scoop a duck from the lake and carry it across the island to stack it on the wall. They are squished into position after being petted, they aren't hurt, nor do they complain. This structure is vibrant with the colours of the rainbow, you cannot discern the ducks from a distance.