Reflections In The Snow

[Werwolf]

The Survivor leaned into the blowing snow, his pack heavy with supplies. For a moment it seemed as if the wind leaned back against him, a cold and uncaring hand wrapping itself around his very core in an attempt to squeeze the life out of him. The furious air fills his ears with wet, unwelcome flakes and freezes his eyebrows and beard. Still, he trudges on, for he is no stranger to these harsh conditions. It's been almost three months since the crash, and somehow, he's made it this far. His mind lost in thoughts of the world that was before, he chuckles and cinches his pack tighter around his shoulder, and leans even more forward. He thinks of the burger place he used to enjoy, the taste of a good, cold beer and hearing the idle chatter at the tables around him, dishes and silverware clanking, the jingle of the door bell as patrons came and went. All of that is washed away when he comes around the rocks and sees a familiar landscape before him. Ah, Bleak Inlet. He's arrived at last.

He picks out the familiar lookout tower against the snowy haze, and makes his way slowly and inexorably into the swirling, icy world around him. One step at a time, the snow crunches and gently protests underneath his heavy boots. The timberwolves of this area used to be a problem, but the survivor has been here many times before. He is no longer worried about the few, scattered small pairs left, for he has become the wolf here. The wolves now fear HIM, and he has the pelts to prove it.

Dusk at last, safe and warm in the watchtower, the Survivor watches the last few golden rays surrender the horizon to a beautiful, wide open night sky. There seems to be more stars than blackness, and he gazes up in wonder. This never gets old for him, the beauty of this freezing, uncaring landscape. Growing up in a city, his night skies were filled with manmade stars; blinking towers, commercial jets and traffic monitoring helicopters. This was still new to him. He wishes that he'd taken more time in the world that existed before to enjoy nature, when he could get tired of it and go home to his central air, his food that magically showed up on his doorstep 30 minutes after placing an order. He chuckles again... wonder if Domino's delivers out here? This world was different. Every calorie came with difficulty, every drink of water with hours of hard work chopping wood. Still, he had to guiltily admit... he loved his new reality in a way. For the first time in his 38 years, he felt truly alive.

Sitting crosslegged in front of a crackling, talkative fire, he contemplates the flames. Once again, his mind drifts back to a time that was. He remembers how important it was to make his car payments, how much he stressed over paying the mortgage. What a life ending thing it seemed when he was laid off from his job, what a new birth it felt like when he was hired onto another. He thinks of kissing his wife goodbye at the airport as he embarked on his grand, stupid adventure to the Great White North. None of that mattered now. It was all so unimportant, and all of it was wiped away in an instant. A bright flash in the sky, loud sounds of mechanical death, the wind bending the wings of his charter plane spiraling through the night sky to a snowy grave below. He remembered how afraid he was, and all that mattered in that instant was his own life. He remembered the shouts, yanking his seatbelt tight, the urgent and insistent beeps of the aircraft's instruments, a terrible rending of metal and flesh, and then nothing. Blackness. Next thing he knew, he woke up, freezing and starving and thirsty, in a place that may as well have been Mars. Hell, maybe he would have been better off on Ma-

The fire snaps loudly, and the survivor is taken out of his trance. Yes, yes, I know... time to go to bed. As if on queue, a wolf cries lonesome somewhere out in the darkness. He rolls over onto his trusty bedroll, stinky old thing. Maybe he'll take some time to patch it up tomorrow. Should be good sleep tonight, there's a blizzard rolling in. He always slept best in a warm, safe place when the wind was howling the loudest outside. Truly a stark contrast of two different worlds. The survivor closes his eyes against the dying embers of the fireplace, and drifts off into a deep sleep while the wind and snow protest loudly outside his bubble of safety and warmth.

He dreams of wide open skies marked with just a few bright white clouds against the brilliant backdrop of a shockingly blue expanse, fields of grain as far as the eye can see dancing gently in a cool breeze on a warm summer eve; a sea of shimmering gold teased by a setting sun. Amongst the whispering stalks, he sees his wife. He begins to run for her, and she, for him. Though he runs and runs, he can never seem to reach her, it's almost as if the field just keeps growing, so he runs faster and faster yet. He shouts her name, and she stands still and seems to melt into the ground, disappearing suddenly into the endless expanse of wheat. He's failed her once again, for the thousandth time. The sky suddenly breaks and turns black, blinding white lightning and shattering peals of thunder transform a beautiful landscape into a hellish, roiling scene of green and gold cascading into nothingness. He begins to fall, and fall, and fall.... Now, the grain becomes snow, the wind begins to howl as he falls faster and faster... if only he hadn't taken this trip......

... and the Survivor wakes up gasping for air, trying to both clear the images out of his head and save them for later contemplation. Yep, definitely a blizzard outside. He shakes the nightmare off through the fog of waking up, stoking a new fire and drinking a cup of tea with a trembling hand. God, it seemed so real. I was ALMOST made it to her this time.... what happens if I DO make it to her?

The wind furiously clapping every loose article on the outside of the tower reminds him that it doesn't matter, indifferent applause to his living another day. Yay, go you. Maybe today is the day. Maybe it's not. Maybe today is the day you make it out of here. Or, maybe today is the day you make the one mistake that sends you into the Long Dark. The Survivor comes to a startling realization - he no longer cares. A smile creeps across his cracked and blistered lips. What do you take from a man that has nothing left to lose?

Somewhere close out in the murky black night, the wolves howl again and remind him that he DOES have one more thing left to lose. He throws his pack on, grips his rifle tightly and thumbs the safety off, and leaves the warm comfort of the tower for the hostile, dark world. Let's see if today is the day.

[IFIYGD]

Love this.
Very well done, very visceral- I could see this playing like a movie in my mind.
Very well done.