Disclaimer: I don't own TNBC, and no matter how much I suck up to Tim Burton it'll never happen.

The animals.

They acted so weird!

Can they sense it?

They know!

Can they see it?

Can they?

Of course!

Of course they knew. Ever since the twelve year old had gotten that hideous duck for Christmas several months ago, the animals acted so weird. It had been one of those wooden ducks that when you pull the string that was attached to their chest, it would follow you around and making annoying quaking sounds. But no matter how annoying it was, it was enjoyable.

That stupid quaking...

The boy had gotten one of those ducks for Christmas from that skeleton. The skeleton that would be the cause of much horror and dismay for years to come. At first the duck was no more than a creepy toy that the lad had hid in the back of his closet. Of course, little Paul was quite wrong. After a week or so his closet door would creep open very slowly, and the quaking of the duck could be heard. It terrified Paul so much that at one point he had forgotten to breathe.

It didn't go for me...

No, the duck went after his two dogs. Prowling after them in the dead of night. But no matter how much Paul tried to tell his parents, they wouldn't believe him. Even after the death of one dog, they still wouldn't believe that a creepy duck toy was the cause of their dog's demise.

Stupid duck. Stupid parents. Why me?

The boy sat on his bed, back to his closet in which the toy sat...waiting. His covers were well over his head, covering the mop of hair that covered his head. He expected to hear the closet door creep open slowly, he knew that soon after that the quaking would start and he would hear the small wheels turning slowly and the quaking of the demented duck as it rolled out into the hallway and prowled after his last dog.

I'll get that duck...I'll get that damned duck!

Sure enough, Paul heard his closet door creak open like a death toll. And soon enough, he heard the quaking of the duck and the squeak of it's small wooden wheels. He braced himself as he listened to the sound of the duck rolling along his floor and to his bedroom door and out into the hall.

I'll get it!

Paul jumped out of bed, trying to walk as quietly as possible, picking up a worn baseball bat that he kept nowadays beside his bed...just in case. Walking out into the hall, he looked up and down the dark corridor, seeing and hearing nothing.

The sudden yelp of his dog made him jump, and Paul had to mentally scold himself for being scared of the yelp of his own dog. Looking once more down the hall, he saw the darkened form of his dog racing towards him and his open bedroom door, looking for salvation. And right behind the dog was the duck...little wheels turning fast now.

DAMN YOU!

He swung the bat in a fury of anger. Anger for terrorizing him, his dogs...his life. The boy felt the bat make contact with something...but it wasn't wooden. Nor did it quack. Paul had hit his dog on accident, the hall being to dark to see anything in the first place.

Oh Jesus...oh no...

Paul didn't dare turn on the light, not wanting to see what he had done to his beloved pet. Anger was swarming up inside him, and oh how he hungered for revenge on that blasted duck for making him kill (or more than likely killed) his own dog

I swear I'LL KILL THAT FREAKING DUCK!

He couldn't see the duck...nor could he see the downward flight of stairs that was so carefully cloaked in the darkness. There was the loud sounds of the boy falling and the wooden sounds of the bat hitting the wall and the stairs as it too fell. It wouldn't be until an hour or so when his father would get up to use the bathroom would his body be found.

It was then did the duck slowly wheel itself back into the boy's closet, this time...not making a sound. Not a quack, only the squeals of its wheels. The quack had been the boy's death toll, and he finally answered it.

Author's notes: Thanks for the reviews guys! I just wanted to say that straight out. I have an idea for the next chapter, which is going to be a little different from the first three. Know that old lady who got the living wreath from Jack? Well, it's going to be about her.