“Where Is the Sun? : The Sad Yet Sweet Story of Survival"

14th December 2019
Wind speed: 250mph
Temperature: -92 degrees Celsius
Time: Midnight, 12:00 pm
Weather Forecast: Hazy weather, hailing

“They are all dead”, I screamed to the howling winds. They were all frozen, their bodies were so cold and rigid, covered with lumps of ice and snow. I wished for them to laugh, to giggle, or even to weep, but there was no such luck. They laid still with open eyes, that lost its unique glare. The cadavers were all missing that soul-spark that made it a person.

My footprints were hidden behind the thick sheets of snow, anyways no one would be searching for me. I am all alone, immersed in the darkness, surrounded by bleak clouds. My clothes were ripped and frozen. I stood in a derelict place, with white snow, giving a shade of arctic white, covering miles of land. I hardly spotted any vegetation and wildlife. It was like a frozen, featureless wasteland. All around me was frost and entombed silence, except for a few deadly scavengers who rested at the dry branches of lifeless trees, waiting to devour me.

I kneeled down, with great difficulty. Sheets of skin were sloughing off my body, with a few drops of blood bubbling and steaming as it spilled out of the wound. Rashes and dark-purple shades of swelled up areas were seen all over my body. Surrounding all my mates, and chewing my lower lip, my eyes welled up with tears. Covering my face with shaking hands, I wiped the tears that tickled my cheek. I couldn’t believe what had happened. I couldn’t accept God’s faith!

Every day and night passes by looking at the juniper purple sky and lingering my mind over the Elysium green fields that surround my bungalow. I was suffering from homesickness. I miss the sweet velvety voice of my mother, the cozy, fat and hairy arms of my father, and the sweet giggles of my sister.

I cannot close my eyes: The image of the once strong and majestic ship - ‘Dark Howler’ sinking into the depths of the freezing blue ocean flashes into my brain. I clearly remember that day - the most terrible day of life, the day when death slowly lingered around us - 12th December 2019. Along with the ship, our weapons and survival kits sank towards the midst darkness of the ocean. Me and my comrades escaped with hardly a few Ziplock bags of plain food. The raging ocean currents swept us to the southern part of Antarctica, where we were surrounded by icebergs and the temperature was so low that it could freeze one's heart. We marched inland, attempting to find an escape route through the treacherous ice passages. As we moved further, there was a sudden falling of large chunks of ice. The superiorly thick blocks of glaciers rolled like boulders from high snow bound mountains, slicing the rocks on its path. The merciless winds provided a helping hand and increased its speed, engulfing the last remaining species of wildlife. The glaciers were descending like popcorns exploding all of a sudden. As the snow was hardly inches away from us, a horrifying sensation crept up my spine. We could feel the darkness engulf every spec of light. Fortunately, a quick-thinking fellow comrade saved us from certain death. As days and nights passed, we stared at the stars twinkling with a wild laughter and the white bright moon standing idol, not bothering to watch our suffering. Over time, we ran short of food, and the winds were whipping stronger and howling against us like wolves. The starvation and frostbite devoured our flesh like a starved beast. It was the march of the doom . . .. we all knew it . . .

Many were invited to the Underworld, to face the judgment of the God of Death. All was taken but me. I have listened to myths about slow, lingering death that comes to catch its prey, but I saw it before my eyes as I lay beside the cadavers of my comrades and felt the frost slowly creep through my bones and freeze my heart. My eyelids were partially covered in frost, making it difficult to blink. The isolation made me think of the complex game, life plays with us, dodging our life from one hand to another. It is funny, funny how man deeply praises his abilities and thinks that he can control everything with his fingertips. When really, we are just wanderers on the Earth, insignificant and meant to bid farewell on one day or the other.

I only had a pencil and a crinkly piece of yellow paper in my frozen, cold, faded bag. I used the last stub of my pencil to write. I wrote a recount, a history, and a reminiscence of our journey. I wrote to remember my friends, but I did not write about myself. I might have gone where no man has ever gone before. I could be a winner or a survivor. It was a victory, but it was meaningless because I had no one by my side. Nothing was won, and everything was lost. All were taken, except for me. Loneliness has paralyzed every inch of me, and the fear of darkness has gripped my heart.

Why didn’t death take me away quickly? What sin had I committed? Why was I alone left to suffer amidst the treacherous ice that symbolized desolation? Why me? All these questions weave like a thread in my brain. They were questions that had to be answered but had no answer to say.

"We should not walk in arrogance; there is a power greater than our wit and might." We are only guests on this cruel, yet beautiful planet Earth." I wrote, as I came to an end of my journey, and the paper slipped from my grasp. Soon, the winds became too much too much for for me to bear, the cold became too much for me to feel, and the sorrow became too much for me to suffer. My spine rested on the snow as I felt my body drift off to endless sleep. As I leaned back, I remembered my captain's words: "We could stay where we were and die defeated, or we could pursue our goal and die victorious." I said my goodbyes, feeling hopeless.

I took a last look at the sky, which was filled with swirling lights of green and blue - Aurora borealis. Suddenly I felt a warm sensation run up my spine, when rays of gold light targeted me. The snow melted from my body. I felt my spine and shoulder free from the stiffness. I could breathe the fresh air. I stood up and looked around, seeing shadows of people coming towards me. Those silhouettes: What if those rays of lights aren’t waving me farewell? What if those emerging figures are my saviors? Was it just a feeling, I can’t be in heaven? . . . . . .

As hope comes closer, the sun comes with it.
For once in a thousand years, I felt one thought in my head, one thought as hope arrives: Here comes the sun!