Flash Fiction
The polar bear poked one eye out of its cosy pit and yawned. He brought forth a hefty paw out from beneath him and beat it lazily against one side of his head. He stuck his butt out from the thick blankets of snow and sent powdery snow flying all around.
Wriggling his tail, he yawned once more, his mouth opening into a giant mortifying cavern. He flexed his thick, curved nails and attempted to scratch the rheum out from his large, watery eyes.
He sat up and stretched.
It had been a good sleep. He felt warm and sprightly and languorous. He stood up on all fours and set about stretching. He spun his head into a graceful, two-seventy degree arc and then lay down again. He’d get up again in a bit.
He’d get up and start about his day, which was bound to be good. He felt ready and strong at heart and the day stretched on infinitely beyond him. Several small polar bear victories will be achieved during the day.
And then- sooner than he expected, yet not too abruptly- night would fall. It would fall gently, preceded by the silent warning of a golden evening, and it would bring an influx of emotions and thoughts along with it. And the emotions would be varied and largely miscellaneous, but not overwhelming. The polar bear would walk back slowly to his bed and ponder on the thoughts and emotions and sensations and the swirling eddies that erupted spontaneously in his heart and made their way ticklishly to his head, and for which he had no name, yet who were not unwelcome as strangers.
Before he realized, he would be fast asleep.
He would wake early the next day and yawn and stretch and start again, feeling just as hale and healthy as ever.
The days would stretch on, repetitive but not monotonous and full of potential. Each night, he would be bombarded with the same flurry of emotions, all of which are sentimental and ambiguous, yet not depressing. Each night, he would allow them to slosh around in his polar bear head until they lulled him strokingly to sleep. Each morning, he’d start again, feeling fresh as ever.
It was a good life.