The dictionary gave us beheading (ENTHAUPTEN), pumpkin (KÜRBIS) and polar circle (POLARKREIS), and this is what came to our minds.
The animals have gathered around the polar circle. A snowy owl has returned after having fulfilled his mission. The owl carries a bag in his talons, and when he lands, he places it in the middle of the circle. A snowy fox approaches the bag and opens it, so that all the animals can see what is inside. It’s a pumpkin.
The animals have heard that pumpkins have a gift, that they have magic. If they place their head on a body, they can claim it for themselves. So, the animals convince the pumpkin to share a little bit of its magic with them. One by one, the animals cut off their heads, and the pumpkin helps them to trade places. Because that game seems like an appropriate pastime for that frozen wasteland.
I am a pumpkin, nothing is impossible, not for me. Inside my head there are countless seeds. More than a thousand thoughts. Each one blinding and unique, just like snowflakes. I don’t need a sheddable skin to become a seal, nor do I need nine tails to become a fox. My snowy thoughts are all the magic I need, when I want to play pretend and believe all my lies.
If I could borrow only one thing from an owl, I would choose to borrow its sight. Because the things that are far away cannot carve me, they cannot hurt me and spill all my thoughts, as if they were tears instead of pumpkin seeds. If I had the eyes of an owl, love would lose all its power, and those closest to me wouldn’t be able to hurt me ever again. I would lose myself in a pretty dream, and that would be enough to wipe all my tears away.
I am a pumpkin. I was born to be carved. I was born to be hollowed and taught. If I could take lessons from a bear, I would like to learn how to sleep. Without being woken up, without letting go of my dream. Until winter came to an end, and with no more snow in sight, I could watch my dream safely come true. If I could take lessons from a penguin, I would like to learn how to be true to myself. How to shout, from the top of the world, that I am a bird, even when I refuse to fly.
There’s no need to be scared. It’s just a game. You can try on a different life, and if you don’t like it, if it isn’t what you expected, you can go back to your old life. Nothing will change. You will always be welcomed back, with wide open arms. Shall we start?
I have no regrets. I will always be grateful to this pumpkin for sharing its magic with me. If my head were still attached to the body of a bear, I would be trapped in a nightmarish winter sleep. Knowing that all the snow, that all those blank pieces of paper would go to waste. But thanks to this pumpkin I am awake. And I can spend this winter writing. A little bit of my own magic. Words that, unlike the ones spoken inside a dream, I will get to share with someone else. Someday.
I don’t want to play your silly game. Go away.
I thought that polar bears were solitary creatures. That they knew how to blend into the snow, into the ice. I thought that if I borrowed the body of a polar bear, I would finally get to be alone with my own thoughts. That I would be able to breathe in the peace, the soothing silence of a snowy landscape, and I would be able to finally find myself. I forgot to take into account that snow falls in more than a thousand tiny flakes. I didn’t take into account that ice breaks off and drifts away. I blended in, while I was still blinded by my dream. And now it’s already too late. My thoughts have already started to fall, they have already started to drift away from me.
I love games. I can’t think of anyone that hasn’t played pretend at least once in their life. But I don’t want to change places with a polar bear. Can I choose something else? Something snowy and bright. Do you know if the moon has already traded places with someone else?
I always hated being a far-sighted owlet. All those dreams flying inside my skull, all those groundless hopes. I am much happier now. And I just want to say thank you, pumpkin, for letting me play. Thank you for letting me grow up in this near-sighted body, that has spared me the hurt of hating the world around me.
No, thank you, I don’t feel like playing. I am perfectly happy right where I am. My feathers are the color of snow, and I already have wings. I don’t wish for anything. I don’t need to use pumpkin magic to become someone else. To force myself to be unique, like a snowflake, just to be able to love myself. I want to still be an owl when I grow up. I want to still be able to recognize myself. Even if that means that I will look just like all the other owls that fly (amidst) in the snow.
I read somewhere that the feathers shed by snowy owls become snowflakes. I read somewhere that there is a dream-like quality to snow, that it is a magical thing. And that is what I want to do when I grow up. I want to shed my feathers while I fly. I want to create a snowy landscape, where I can share my dreams with the world. I don’t want to grow up still holding on to my dreams. I want to create a snowy landscape, where other children can keep dreaming, like I once did.
No, thank you, I think I will sit this one out. I’m still feeling a little bit seasick from the last time I played. I haven’t found my legs yet, but I’m sure that it won’t take me too long. This is home, after all. I’m sure that soon it will start to feel like it.
A little bird told me that memories live in our hair. In its feathers. In my fur. And I have never felt more grateful in my life. If it weren’t for this pumpkin’s magic, I would have forgotten everything, when winter came to an end and I shed my snowy fur. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise to put this new body to good use. I promise to let its hair grow. To never cut it, and fill it only with wonderful memories.
Thanks, but no thanks. I already change furs twice a year. Summer and Winter. I don’t think I would enjoy anymore changes in my life.
A little bird told me that the secret to happiness was enjoying my life without harboring any regrets. That’s why I decided to take part in this game. Polar foxes shed their fur twice a year. Something snowy, like blank pieces of paper, in summer. Something dark, like papers written to the brim, in winter. And that is what I will do from now on. I will shed all my regrets. The things I never did, and the things I wish I had never done. I will shed all my fur, in my search for happiness.
I can already see myself. Can you see me too? I will behead the sun. I will get rid of all its rays, because I have no use for a crown. I will only keep its heart. All that warmth. I can already feel it, bringing tears to my eyes. The sun will warm me up. And I won’t feel unloved ever again.
I will tell you a secret, little pumpkin. I loathed being a seal cub. The snowy fur. The big black eyes. All that built-in innocence. I could barely breathe. The guilt was so thick, I could barely think. But now I am free. To be myself. Because everyone knows that nothing is crueler than a child. No one expects innocence from this body. And I am not afraid of letting my thoughts show. Not anymore. Because there is no snow. Here, there is no guilt.
Maybe next time, after my eyes lose their shine and shrink one or two sizes. Right now my heart is a beautiful starless night. I don’t need lies nor dreams. I don’t need stars nor snow. I am happy, just as I am.
I should have thought this through. What good is a seal cub without its eyes? Those big, black, lovable eyes are the charm. The magic no heart is immune to, the thing that gets seals whatever they want. I wanted to be given things too, to have them brought to me. Love. Riches. Grapes. My dreams. I wanted to have everything, without having to lift a finger. But the only eyes in this body are the ones I brought with me. And they are useless. As useless as the rest of this seal’s body, that I can barely drag over the ice.
Let’s play again. What? Don’t be silly. Of course I remember who I am. Sometimes I like pretending that I am someone else, but that doesn’t mean that I forget. Right now I am snow. Countless possibilities and capacity to learn. The time to harden hasn’t come yet. I haven’t turned into ice yet. I still have time to play, to try on different things, and decide who I want to become.
I invited myself, but the pumpkin was kind enough to let me play. I got this body, because all the others were already taken. But it doesn’t matter. My feelings aren’t hurt. I got to play with everyone else, and that is enough for me.
Do you see yourselves? That pumpkin has a scythe in its hands, and you are still eager to play? Insane, all of you are insane. And I am so disappointed in myself. I should have known that you would take the game too far. I shouldn’t have come here.
I wanted a hug, I wanted to feel that I was part of the group, part of the family too. But I don’t know if I chose the right penguin’s body to fulfill my dream.
It’s just a game. It’s just a game. It’s just a game. A game. A game. A game. A game. I will blink. And everything will be in its place again.