The Sequel

Woke up to find the plan gone wrong
The best-laid plans go oft awry
You thought of it as your swan-song
But you forgot
That there are two paths you can go by

Morning. That’s the word for the time of the day when you wake up. Although in this part of the world, that’s all it is – a word. He isn’t even sure if it is indeed morning or just some unearthly hour he has woken up at. The feeling is eerie, surreal, all that jazz, but not in a good way. He hasn’t seen bright sunshine for more than six months now. It’s obvious to him that time is a lie.

Why is it so cold? He tries to get out of bed and look outside but his legs seem to have gone numb. He can still feel the cold in his feet though. He can’t remember the time he went to sleep. His last distinct memory is of his friends playing the game of ‘telephone’ with two tin cans and a piece of wire. Not really his friends, actually just two people whom he can’t exactly recall right now, but whatever he can recall, it’s not very pleasant. Why were they playing the stupid game? They were right next to each other and could hear each other anyway. But he’s not worried about it, just curious. There are other things to be worried about. Like why is it so cold?

It’s been cold since that night. It just won’t end. No one is around. No one has been around for a long time. He tries to speak but he has this weird taste in his mouth and he’s afraid it will escape into the air if he opens his mouth. It’s not a good taste, but it’s the only ‘feeling’ he has right now, and he doesn’t want to lose it. Well, other than the cold of course. Also, there is no one around to speak to, so that’s there.

The ice, the loneliness. There’s so much of both.

It’s sad. It seems sad. He can’t remember much, but it’s still sad.
Seasonal affective disorder (SAD) is a type of depressive disorder that occurs in the winter when daylight hours are short. It is believed that the body's production of melatonin, which is produced at higher levels in the dark, plays a major part in the onset of SAD and that many sufferers respond well to bright light therapy, also known as phototherapy.
When life was around, it made him sad.

He was promised hell would be hot and fiery. What was that someone told him once? Oh yea, promises are meant to be broken. He knew it already obviously, just like he knew that cleanliness is next to godliness, love is blind, everything happens for a reason, life is a lemon (also a play, unfair, and many other things), shining sun is conducive to hay production and should be utilized for the same while it is still around, too many cooks spoil the broth, a friend with weed is a friend indeed (need, weed, what’s the difference?), a chain is only as strong as its weakest link.
Well, the difference he discovered was that this one applied to God too. The least he could expect from the giver of morals was to stick to a promise. That of a burning hell.

Why can’t he find his feet? Oh there they are, but why are they yellow and misshapen? Must be the cold, he thinks. And what’s wrong with his hands? He can’t feel his fingers. He tries hard to see. He has no fingers, just hands shaped like flaps. Flap, flap, he flaps them against his sides.
They seem like wings but he can’t fly.

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas, isn’t that what he asked for? Well, at least one part of one promise was kept.

Elementary penguin singing Hare Krishna
Man you’ve been a naughty boy; you let your face grow long

Epilogue
“Hey!”
“Wha…what?”
“What happened? Were you daydreaming again?”
“Uh…no I was just trying to work out the approach to this project. I guess I got a little lost. I’m sorry.”
He heaves a sigh, not exactly of relief, but maybe just because the dream was so overwhelming. He still can’t get over it, and he is still sure that he really had died and was reborn as a penguin somewhere in the Antarctic seas. It’s clear to him that time is a lie, that within each moment is another moment.
His manager is sitting next to him and talking over the phone to another manager, who is sitting in front of him. He can hear them both, and he is pretty sure, so can they. He is surrounded by people, but there’s no one around, and it has been this way for a long time.

Woke up to find the world turned blue
The stinging rain has made it blind
But that is not what bothers you
You just miss
Laying supine in the sunshine