Polarity

First draft of a children's book starring a polar bear.

Original artwork and outline provided by a friend.

Here's my take - 

Felix looked around.

The world was white.

The snow

the sky

his fur.

Felix couldn’t see where he ended and the snow began.

The caribou were white

the foxes were white

the hares were white

even the weasels were white.

Felix sighed.

In the springtime, they would move south again,

and there would be green.

Maybe…

Maybe if he started now,

he could reach the green sooner!

And maybe,

if green was possible,

maybe other colors were possible, too!

What else could Felix find?

He began to walk faster,

and walking turned to loping,

and soon he was speeding across the tundra.

After a while,

he came to a forest.

The trees were covered in snow,

but he could see the needles and bark

beneath the layers of white.

He filled his belly and rested for a long time.

When morning came, he heard birds chirping

and felt the sun’s warmth on his back.

He stretched and smiled 

and continued on.

He marveled at the forest as he went.

The snow was melting,

and more and more colors were showing through.

Tender green ferns were sprouting all around,
and the fallen tree he'd slept against last night
was covered in lichen and ridges of pale mushrooms.

Felix walked on,

and soon there was no more snow.

The trees stretched high above him,

their leaves rustling against each other in the breeze:
everywhere there were shades of brown and green,

and sometimes a glimpse of bright flowers of pink or yellow.

Felix thought he might have found what he was searching for,

but he wasn’t sure,

so he kept walking.

Each day, he noticed that there were fewer and fewer trees,

and instead,

there were vast fields spreading out around him.

The sky was wide and blue,

and the grasses shooshed in the wind,

rustling and sighing,

like the leaves of those trees,

but all in one great chorus.

It was warm here,

and he lay in a patch of shade

at the edge of a corn field

and napped the afternoon away.

Felix liked the rolling hills and the red barns;

he liked the fat brown geese that seemed to be following him south.

But he was pretty sure this wasn’t the place he’d been dreaming of,

so after a good meal, and one more nap,

he faced south again and looked some more.

After many days,

Felix had walked over mountains and down into valleys.

As he walked, the air got drier,

and the days got longer.

The nights were blissfully cool,

and he could see almost as many stars

as he could on a summer’s night back home.

Instead of trees,

there were great, green lumps with spikes poking out all over.

There was no snow and no grass.

The soft ground was orangey-red,

and instead of being cold and wet,

it was hot and dry –

the pads of his feet burned

with every step he took

under the glaring eye of the sun.

All was still,

like on the tundra.

But this did not feel like a place he belonged.

He crouched in the scant shade of a giant green beast,

and dreamt of howling winds

and icebergs.

This was not what he was searching for,

so he kept going.

After many more mountains

and many more deserts,

Felix came to the thickest,

greenest forest yet.

Vines wrapped around tree trunks,

and everywhere there were

wide, green leaves

and narrow, sharp leaves –

leaves underfoot, leaves overhead.

The sky was green, too,

or at least it seemed that way.

It rained all the time,

and even his fur started to turn green around the edges;

he smelled like moss,

and the air tasted like a rain cloud.

The snakes were almost as big as he was,

and he didn’t like the way they looked at him.

Felix hopped on a raft,

and floated as far down the giant river as he could go.

He dreamed at night that he was on a chunk of ice,

floating with the seals and the walruses.

He woke up feeling itchy and hot;

everywhere he looked was green,

and the brightly colored birds flying over him

sounded like they were laughing at him.

He missed the way the icy water felt on a morning swim

and he missed the way the snow felt on his tired, moldy paws.

Felix sat on his raft, floating through green, warm water,

and ached for his home.

When the river reached the ocean,

Felix dove into the waves

and swam as far as he could go.

He found a strong current and floated along for a while,

rushing south in the cool water.

He started to feel chilly,

in the very best way,

and he saw familiar faces

(image of orcas and seals),

and wondered if he’d walked so far

that he’d come all the way back home.

After many days of swimming,

he saw colossal white masses on the horizon,

and was sure that his eyes were tricking him.

He swam hard, and tried not to get his hopes up,

but soon he smelled snow,

and felt the wind whipping along the surface of the water.

He heaved himself up onto a shelf of ice,

and sprawled out,

panting with fatigue,

and filled with relief.

Everything around him was covered in snow.

Everything was cold.

The sky was gray,

and the wind dug into his fur like shards of ice.

Polar bears don’t often howl,

but Felix let out a bellow that filled the air with the sound of his joy.

He had found the place for him.

He had found a new home.