I feel like a nightmare just woke me from the most beautiful dream of my life. If I could just fall back asleep I would be back there in my lover’s arms again, watching the history of the universe. I was a dog running across an anthill. No, I was a man leading an ant out of captivity. There were definitely sports.

I have to piss.

That must be why I woke up. As soon as I lift my head dizziness makes me fall back to the ice. More slowly this time, I labor myself into a sitting position. I can tell by the sun’s color, orange like the stripes on a tiger, that night is closer than morning. I get my feet underneath my hips and push myself upright. I sway, a lot. How long have I been here? Then I see it.

It’s a crack. I must have been near delirious to miss it. It should have made a sound like a cannon when it came to be. It stretches from one horizon of endless winter to another. Is the sun directly over one horizon's endpoint? I’ve never seen a crack like that in ice before, at least that I can remember. Maybe it was caused by… I can’t think of anything that could cause it. Maybe an earthquake did it- but it seems too symmetrical. My thoughts are sluggish.

How wide is the crack? I look and see that it is about a foot wide near me and it looks a foot wide underneath the sun too. Something about that seems wrong, but I can’t figure out why? How deep is the crack? It looks shallow here, about a foot. Nothing seems to be living in it.

I can’t help myself. Aiming for the crack, I start relieving myself. My stream melts a little hole on the bottom surface that I can see. It seems dark under that surface. Shaking myself dry I start to lie back down. My pack looks as though it would make a good pillow, those dreams are calling me back to them. I want to know the plan, and there was something else too. There are so many things that I still don’t know. For starters, what is that sound?

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A roaring, almost bestial sound is coming from the direction of the sun. Is some god drawing a line of fire across the surface of my glacier? How steady is his hand, how beautiful his pen! The sun flashes off of his ink as though he is drawing with diamonds. Another roar sounds and is drowned out by the approaching line. The sound is coming from my own mouth. Is the line coming directly for me? I laugh. My reserves too dry to run, I pick up my pack and stumble towards the setting sun and the line it is carving on my glacier. Cracked lips make it hard to whistle, but I damn well try, even though I can’t hear it.

It’s closer now. The crack is on my left and the line on my right, a 30-degree angle between them. I wonder if that means anything. It passes by me a dozen steps to my right and stops abruptly at the crack- fuck me it was loud. The sound stops; the sound of my ears ringing is replaced by a hissing like bacon sizzling. What the fuck is going on?

Quiet descends. The sun is lower in the sky, to the level of the horizon. I must have lost track of time during the roaring. Maybe I passed out. Lord knows the shape my body must be in. It only takes a few steps to see that the “line” was really another crack. Only this one doesn’t go straight down. It goes at an angle towards the original. I must be tripping, or the world is.

The sun and the horizon are flipped; I guess it is me tripping. I feel oddly light as a darkness roars upwards from the shadows of the crack to swallow me. 

Oh well. At least I didn’t die of boredom.