This story was adapted from the short film Utka, directed by myself and Johnny Hall.

Once upon a time, there was a sad little duck named Utka.

Utka was the fourth of seven little ducklings, and like all middle children, Utka never got any respect.

When Utka’s brothers and sisters played in the pond, they laughed at him. When they played in the meadow, they trampled him. When they played on the hill, they pushed him down the slope.

Poor Utka!

Every evening, Utka’s mother called all the ducklings to sleep in the little house the hospitable farmer had built. “In you go!” the farmer would say, and the shiny metal door would crash shut, as it always had.

And every night, Utka lay awake in fear of what the next day would bring.

One day, Utka could endure the scorn no longer. Away he waddled: away from the pond, away from the little house, away from his brothers and sisters and Mother Duck.

Utka had never felt so alone. But Utka was not alone.

The sound of purring filled the air, announcing the arrival of Koshka, the farm cat. Koshka greeted Utka with a nod.

“Your life is difficult,” said the cat, “but it does not have to be.”

Utka turned from his tears to stare deeply into the cat’s eyes, for it was known all over the farm that Koshka was a granter of wishes.

“So, my little duckling. What do you desire?”

Utka considered the cat’s question, and told him his sad, sad story. “Six brothers and sisters, you say? So it’s respect, then?

“You wish for them to love you? To praise you? To…obey you?

“Then trust in Koshka,” said the cat.

And Utka did.

The very next day, Utka knew Koshka’s magic had worked.

When Utka’s brothers and sisters played in the pond, Utka swam circles around them. When they played in the meadow, they carried him on their downy shoulders. When they played on the hill, they crowned him king.

Utka’s brothers and sisters loved Utka. Honoured Utka. Obeyed Utka.

Utka had the complete, unquestioning loyalty of all the other ducklings. But still one family member remained unmoved by Koshka’s magic: Mother Duck, always telling Utka when to eat, when to sleep, when to play. No respect for the new order. For Utka, this injustice could not be allowed to stand.

Utka called for revolution.

There were some who believed Utka had gone too far. Who spoke out, and tried to turn Utka’s brothers and sisters against him. But with one strike from Utka’s followers, they quickly revised their opinions.

That night, as Mother Duck waited for her flock to return to the little house, she did not realise they were already inside.

Utka called for her, and as Mother Duck advanced, full of complete, unquestioning love, so too did her ducklings, full of complete, unquestioning loyalty. As her slender neck crossed the threshold, Utka gave his followers one final, terrible command.

And the shiny metal door crashed shut, as it always had.

That night, as his brothers and sisters slept, Utka felt sad once more. Mother Duck was dead. But still, Utka could not find peace.

Utka had never felt so alone. But Utka was not alone.

The sound of purring filled the darkness, announcing the arrival of Koshka, the farm cat. Koshka greeted Utka’s brothers and sisters with his teeth.

In that moment, as fur and flesh and feathers filled the air, something broke inside Utka. Without the protection of Mother Duck – taken for granted for so long – Utka suddenly felt exposed – to danger, to desolation, to death.

“My wish came true,” said the cat. “Did yours?”

Deep down, Utka knew: it had.

And ever since that day, Utka sat in the pond, where his brothers and sisters had once played. He sat in the meadow, where his brothers and sisters had once played. And he sat on the hill, where his brothers and sisters had once played.

Utka had never felt so alone.

And Utka was alone.