Embedded Files
A short story written by Ian Deal
with illustrations by Kenneth Mirley
The storm had been unusually strong and had lasted all through the night. A ferocious and unforgiving wind had howled across the frozen landscape until the early hours of the morning, whipping large flakes of falling snow into a swirling blizzard, while large waves had crashed menacingly against the giant walls of arctic ice.
Plip, the Polar bear, however, was still in bed. He did not want to get up. He wanted to stay in bed all day. It was nice and warm under the thick covers.
“Plip. Get out of bed—you cannot stay there all day!” called Plip’s mother from the kitchen where she was preparing breakfast.
Plip did not want to get up. He was nice and warm under the covers.
“Do I have to?” he replied. “Can’t I stay in bed? Please!”
The morning began much brighter with the appearance of the sun. The snow had stopped falling and the waves had calmed, but there was still a breeze that meant it was going to be another cold, winter morning at the North Pole.
The Penguins seemed unconcerned and were already busy, diving into the icy water in search of fish. Several sea lions glided among them and even the lazy, old Walrus was shuffling his body across the ice.
“No,” Plip’s father replied, trying to read his paper by the warm stove. “Go outside and play! You will feel better after some fresh air.”
Plip threw back the nice, warm covers and got out of bed. He did not feel like eating breakfast and decided on a walk. He dressed quickly, making sure he had several layers of clothing before putting on his hat.
He sat by the warm fire while his father read the paper before leaving the house. He liked being warm.
“Make sure you are not home too late,” shouted his mother. “You will be hungry later, having missed breakfast.”
Plip was not listening. He was too preoccupied with missing his bed and the nice warm covers.
The two of them made their way over to a secluded part of the ice, trying to keep out of the wind, and sat down. Plip stared thoughtfully into the distance while Cheeky carefully pruned himself with his beak. After a while Cheeky turned to Plip and asked, “Is there anything wrong Plip? You seem troubled.”
“Actually, there is something bothering me Cheeky,” he replied with a look of concern.
“Was it last night's storm?” inquired Cheeky. “Did it stop you from sleeping?”
“No! It is nothing like that,” replied Plip.
“Well what is it then?” asked Cheeky, noticing that his friend was obviously very troubled.
Plip looked at his friend before asking, “What am I?”
“What are you?” said Cheeky laughing, slapping his wings together. “You mean, literally, what are you?”
“Yes,” said Plip.
“Why a Polar bear of course,” Cheeky answered. “What do you think you are?”
After a few minutes of walking around aimlessly, Plip arrived at the penguin colony. They had finished their breakfast and were now lying peacefully on the ice. Cheeky, who was Plip’s best friend, saw him and called out.
“Hi Plip!”
Plip did not see Cheeky. He was walking with his head down, out of the wind.
“Plip!” called out Cheeky a little louder, waddling over as only penguins can.
“Sorry Cheeky,” said Plip, turning back. “I did not see you. I was trying to keep out of the wind.”
“That’s ok,” replied Cheeky. “I understand.”
“I am not sure,” questioned Plip. “I could be a Brown bear, or a Black bear. You know there are lots of different types of bear.”
Plip’s response was rather baffling to Cheeky, who had not considered his friend to be any other type of bear.
“Oh… really, then I am not sure now,” said Cheeky, uncertain now that Plip had mentioned other types of bear. He then joined a confused Plip in silence, contemplating the dilemma as they both stared out to sea.
Hours went by before Cheeky broke the silence, exclaiming very loudly and in a state of obvious excitement, “Why don’t you ask Walrus? He is very old and wise; he might know.”
“That is a good idea,” smiled Plip. “Thank you Cheeky—you really are a good friend!”
They stood up and began walking in the direction where they knew Walrus would be. Walrus liked the area where the ice was thicker, being a little heavier than the penguins. Plip found Walrus easily. Walrus never ventured far.
“Walrus!” shouted Plip as he came closer. “Walrus!”
“You do not have to shout! I am awake,” said Walrus gruffly.
“Sorry,” whispered Plip. “I don’t mean to disturb you Walrus, but what am I?”
“Why that is easy,” answered Walrus, twitching his very long, grey whiskers before rolling onto his stomach. “You are a Polar bear.”
“Are you sure?” said Plip frowning. “I could be a Brown bear, or a Black bear. They are bears too.”
“You could also be a Grizzly bear, or a Teddy bear,” laughed Walrus, teasing. “But I doubt it. They live where it is much warmer. Still, if it troubles you, ask your father. He will know.”
Cheeky stood in the background looking very confused, knowing that there were even more different types of bear. Brown bear, black bear, grizzly bear and even a teddy bear. It was all too much for his little brain.
“Of course!” screamed Plip, jumping up and down with excitement. Walrus was right. Who better to ask?
“Thank you Walrus,” shouted Plip. “You truly are wise!”
“I know!” replied Walrus. “And you do not have to shout. I am still awake.”
“Sorry!” whispered Plip very quietly as they walked away. They could both still hear Walrus laughing as they neared Plip's home.
Plip's mother prepared them both some dinner. I wonder what Walrus finds so funny? thought Plip. He was still wondering when he sat down to eat. He was far too hungry to ask his father straight away, so he waited until Cheeky had left and then went to brush his teeth.
It was almost time for bed. He put his clothes away and then pulled the covers tightly around him. His father closed the curtains and sat on the edge of the bed next to him.
“Father,” he said.
“Yes,” he answered. “What is it?”
“What am I?” questioned Plip.
“My, that is a funny question. What do you think you are?”
“I am not sure,” said Plip. “I could be a Brown bear, or a Black bear. I could be a Grizzly bear or even a Teddy bear.”
“Well,” smiled his father. “You are not a Brown bear, or a Black bear, because you are white. Grizzly bears are ferocious and unfriendly and Teddy bears live on children’s beds. So, you must be a Polar bear. Why do you ask such a curious question?”
“Well,” said Plip, pulling the covers higher. “If I am a Polar bear, then why am I always so cold?”
Plip’s father started laughing uncontrollably and reached out to his son with his rather large arms, squeezing him affectionately. He smiled at Plip lovingly before exclaiming, “Just because we live where it is very cold, it does not mean we do not feel the cold. You are a rather silly Polar bear who spends far too long under these nice warm covers, hoping to be a Teddy bear.”
And with that he then bent down and kissed Plip goodnight, turning off the light as he left.
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