The Baby Penguin
A short story by Evan Buckiewicz
An egg cracked, in the middle of a large rookery on a still night in Antarctica. A penguin was hatching.
The father penguin, who was perched above it, waddled out of the way to give the egg room to hatch.
With its tiny beak, the baby penguin poked and chipped away large chunks of the shell. Finally, the penguin's head poked out.
Every penguin looked at the new family member in curiosity and what could have been joy. However, the baby penguin was not looking at them.
The baby penguin had its head arched up into the sky, taking in its first sight with big, round black eyes. It looked at the night sky, in awe and bewilderment.
It saw the deep shade of dark navy blue as a vast, pure ocean, with a magnificent aurora of dancing green and purple waves.
Thousands of stars twinkled solemnly in the sky. Little flecks of ice shards, aimlessly drifting in the vast ocean, with both a majestic beauty and an inviting futility.
And, among the little shards of ice was something much larger, a leviathan in comparison. The moon, full and in its prime, shining with an unearthly glow.
The baby penguin saw the moon as a large glacier, in which it would be able to float along the ocean with its family without a trouble in the world.
The sky was perfect, and the baby penguin longed for it.
It imagined swimming in the large vast ocean, along with the countless flecking shards of ice. Dancing in the colorful waves, floating on the large glacier. Protected from all harm.
The baby penguin wished to live there, in the sky.
Away from the troubles of the world, to which the baby penguin would soon be exposed.
Looking at the sky, the penguin realized that it was impossible to reach the magical ocean. It was a utopia that would never be found.
The baby penguin found it a pity that, it was born already unsatisfied with what it had.
A pity that, the baby penguin was born with its dreams already crushed.