Are you happy, Mr. Superman?

See you in my nightmares.

It begins.
Everything is black.
Then it hits me like a lightning bolt. The darkness is banished in an instant and I am blinded by the purest white. My head is spinning and my blurry eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden contrast they have thrust upon them.
I feel cold. Numbness grips my fingertips. Each gasp for air I take is icy cold but bitterly cleansing. My heartbeat slows, my mind becomes clear and my eyes take focus upon a single feathery white shape dancing delicately down from a bright platinum sky. The shape twirls and flutters soundlessly before my eyes, pulling my gaze down along with it.
I am standing alone, in a forest carpeted with snow. The beautiful white shape was but a single snowflake that is now lost forever in a world of countless others, all equally unique and individual as the next.
I feel a chill surge up my spine and I am brought to life with a shiver. I glance around me, frantically searching for a sign that I am not alone; I am greeted by the crushing realisation that I am. I call out into the silent abyss, pleading with the skeletal trees to show me a safe passage home. My cries are met only with a mocking echo.
Unable to stand this solitude, I run for the path of least resistance and stumble through the undergrowth, desperately fleeing myself.
It seems as if I am running for hours with no sign of civilisation. The brightly lit sky abandons me to darkness and the last glimmer of hope in my heart dies with the sunset. I am shambling aimlessly through the blackness when I finally break free from the tall shadowy trees and almost collapse into a clearing I didn’t see myself approaching. At the centre of this open ground lies a small wooden cabin. The lantern that hangs from the porch ceiling is unlit and the windows are as dark as the skies above me. I approach cautiously, my eyes searching of signs of life within the structure. Moonlight glistens in icicles that decorate the building and shimmers in the droplets of water suspended from them. The warped wooden steps creak as I make my way over them to the front door. I take in a deep breath of the cold night air and hold on to it as if it could be my last. I clench my hand into a fist and knock on the door. The sound reverberates around the clearing loudly and causes me to flinch at the volume. I knock again, this time the swollen door is unintentionally forced loose from its ill-fitting frame and slowly swings open, the hinges groan noisily as if they haven’t been made to work for many years.
I peer in and announce my presence clearly. There is no reply from within but distant howling bellows out across the night as a terrifying answer; the distinctive howls, belonging to a pack of wolves. Fear overwhelms me and I soon find myself inside the darkened living space with the door slammed shut behind me. I fumble forward into the centre of the room and spin around to survey my surroundings. That’s when I see it; a small hunched figure, sitting in an old wooden chair, silhouetted against the moon from a window pane. There are no features visible through the blackness but the figure moves in the chair and speaks in an old, gravelly voice.
“Storm’s comin’.” He says.
He talks as if preaching to a room full of people. When I attempt to offer him an explanation for my intrusion I am ignored. He merely continues on with his spiel.
“It’s a big one. The big one; The Apocalypse. When all the secrets are exposed and all the runnin’ ends.”
I hear the howling from outside growing louder and louder. I listen to the crunching of snow and the noisy panting of wolves beyond the four walls of this small shack.
“Hell…” He continues, regardless. “Hell is comin’.”
The door bursts open and I am face to face with a snarling, snapping beast. Its head is lowered and its stance is that of a fiend ready to strike. The foul creature bares its teeth at me and roars fiercely. I stoop down into a defensive poise without even thinking; my gaze meets evenly with its. An instant later it lunges towards me, sinking its teeth into the flesh of my forearm. I grit my teeth and throw my arm hard to the side, in an attempt to shake the wild dog off. It grips stubbornly, gnawing on my bone. I cleanly plant my fist into the throat of the monster and toss the yelping body to the floor. I feel the blood gushing from my wound. The warm red fluid pulses out sporadically, pouring down my arm and onto the wooden boards beneath my feet. The filthy dog soon recovers and again leaps at me in an attempt to take another mouthful of meat, this time from my shin. I howl in agony, feeling my muscle ripped apart. I grip the coat of the beast and wrestle it the floor savagely, my body aches and screams at me for vengeance. I repeatedly beat the creature with my fists until it ceases its struggle.
It takes a moment but my body begins to burn, all the pain that had been suppressed in the heat of the confrontation engulfs me. I look down at the remains of my adversary but rather than discovering the broken body of the wolf beneath me, I find I am looking into the lifeless eyes of my loved one. The rest of the pack flood into the room and surround me, barking, howling and baying for blood.  I throw back my head and scream to the heavens.
The feeding frenzy begins. I feel ever single ounce of flesh being stripped from my bones, teeth sinking into my vital organs and ripping them from my perishing carcass, countless starving beasts tearing me limb from limb. All the while tears stream from my eyes, right until the very last agonising moment of my demise.

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