That was the last thing I remember before waking up in this frozen wasteland.  A tundra, of sorts, I think.  There’s nothing here; no sunshine, no grass, no animals, no people.  Nothing.  Just snow, ice, hail, and a sharp, freezing wind that never dies down.  There is no daytime, no nighttime.  Only this vast, bleak greyness, and it seems infinite.  The frozen ground treks on for miles; I’ve walked them.  There is frostbite eating away at the entirety of my skin, blackening my limbs and sending waves of pain through my body that are nearly debilitating me.  But when I lay in a bed of snow to sleep later, I will wake with no signs of ever having been frostbit.  And the cycle repeats.  I’ve seen nothing but frigid snow and the infinite white of a cosmic winter, though, on rare occasions, I do see Lucky.

He visits sometimes, still wearing extravagant suit coats and luxurious furs, looking handsome and alluring as ever, usually just to chat about life and other meaningless, meaningful things.  He says he likes talking with me, and before he leaves, he always promises me greatness, promises me that one day soon, I’ll receive all that I desire, should I choose to tell him what it is, something more than my beachfront cabin.  I don’t remember how long it has been since he brought me here, but I hope he is telling the truth.  I also wish I knew what I desired, other than to leave this hell, other than….

I am so cold.

And the loneliness I feel here is causing me to desire something more; something monstrous, inhuman, devilish.  An entity who wears a desirable man’s face.

I am so, so cold.