(I wrote this for this writing prompt a few months back, seems like it would fit here too)

They took my father almost exactly one year ago.

Like father, like son, right? My dad and I looked almost entirely alike. Some of the other ducks said someone must've cloned my dad, because we were pretty much identical, down to each individual feather. We went everywhere together. We ate together, we swam together, we flew together, we slept together. My dad was my world, he was the one I imprinted on when I hatched from my shell, and I knew we'd always be together.

Until they came. Humans. A family of humans came to the park with a net, and threw it over my dad. They were trying to abduct him. We fought them, we fought them together, him inside the net, and me outside. We bit, we scratched, we batted at them with our wings. Like father, like son, right? But they were simply too large and too strong. They put my dad into a sack and took him away in a car.

I took to the air and followed the car. They drove to a house, not far from the park. I watched as they took the sack into the house. Then I watched, through the kitchen window, as they... as they... as they killed my father. They killed him, and mutilated his body. They plucked out his feathers, cut off his head, poured sauce over his body, then cooked him in an oven until his body was a charred crisp. And then, as I watched, they cut my father into pieces, wrapped the flesh in large flat pieces of dough, and devoured him.

I've watched them since that day. I watch them when they wake, I watch them when they leave the house, I watch them when they return, and I watch them when they sleep. It's been a year now. I know their whole routine. I know when they go to work or school. I know when they go to the park together, on weekends. I know when they sleep, and I know they'll be most vulnerable then.

Oh I make sure they don't know I'm watching. That's why I try to only look at them out of the corner of my eye, so that it's not obvious I'm observing their every move. Sometimes I slip up. Sometimes they can tell there's a duck watching them. I fly away, and pluck out a few feathers so I look different, and then I come back. Then they don't know the same duck's come back to stare at them. Humans, they're so stupid.

It's almost time. Soon, when they sleep, I'll put the rest of my plan in motion. They'll pay for what they did to my father. Like father, like son, right? They turned my dad into a Peking Duck. Well, now they'll have to deal with me, the peeking duck.