A world within a world, within a world, within a web, twisting, turning, evermore. A world lost to time, lost to everything, to everyone. A world forgotten, gone forever, never returning, lost. A world of ice and snow, of loss and death, of eternity and nothingness. They call it a winter wonderland, this cold, this dark, this emptiness. The most magical time of the year, but it’s a black magic, a dark sorcery that locks up all enthusiasm, all motivation, all desire, and keeps it shut away. Shut away from light and love. Shut away from hope.

Now, just snap out of it, they say. You can’t think like that, be like that, be that way. Be happy. Be positive. You have so much to be thankful for. Worse. Things. Happen. At. Sea. True, true, words of truthfulness, well spoken, well meaning, but where is the switch? Where is the happy switch? Must find it. Later. Maybe tomorrow. Go away. I do not wish to look for it right now.

Why does my misery offend you so? It does. You hate it. You despise it. Wear a smile for you, tell the world that all is good. Turn off the Sun and tell me that I should shine nonetheless? Who are you to say such things. Happy person. I am sorry I am not you, I shall try harder to be you in the future.

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Ian Sharman

Ian is a freelance writer and artist. He founded Orang Utan Comics Studio with Peter Rogers in 2006, writes for their Eagle Award Nominated anthology Eleventh Hour and regularly inks for Panini’s Marvel Heroes comic.

Latest posts by Ian Sharman (see all)

• How the War Began - 30/12/15
• Prince Of Peace - 22/12/15
• Cogito Ergo Sum - 25/08/15
• Hayfever’s End - 17/08/15
• Regrets? I’ve Had A Few - 14/08/15