White

[MetalMethodMan]

White, the once blue waters, now thick with White ice covered in White snow, the once green grass, plentiful meadows and fields sustaining all life, and the once blue sky, disguised, engulfed in White, nothing but White.

White, his cold fingers crimple in the cold air as he struggles to tear meat from a penguin carcass, the good meat has been taken, what is left is not enough for him to feed his starvation. His first meal in a long time, the remains are left as he tramps on aimlessly through the deep snow. His black brittle toes rise above the snow and break back down on the surface, his eyes wincing each time he steps, the White begins to burn his toes from his bones as it surrounds him. White, nothing but White.

White birds flew overhead. His eyes scanned the birds passing past the crisp white clouds and over a hill with a single green tree at its peak. As he climbed the steep hill, his toes cracked and snapped like brittle firewood, he saw more green; a bush began to grow from the hill’s horizon. Each step taken seemed to take a century to make, each step taking more and more effort than the last. His heart pounded, raced as he neared the top. He could hear the birds calling now. He saw only a single white bird - perched upon the highest branches of that single green tree. His voice carried up the hill and to the bird with the excitement of a child at play. The bird fluttered its wings and flew the way he had come. The man, still excited, reached the top and stood up to see the fields in front of him, but collapsed and fell back at the site. He saw White, nothing but White.

[MetalMethodMan]

*bump*

Comments? Critisism? Maybe a hint of interest would be nice.