Good Morning Killer: Urban Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy

The creak of the door opening startled him to awareness. The harsh realization of reality sunk in, banishing his dreams of walking on full-pile carpeting in his penthouse, a drink in his hand, a beautiful woman smiling at him from his leather-upholstered sofa, the panoramic view of Manhattan in the background. Gone, all of it gone. He felt the beginning of his usual sorrow, a grim pain that cluing to him like a shadow for the first part of every morning. Then the door creaked softly again, and he froze in place, hoping that his breathing pattern hadn't changed but worried that it had. He slid one hand under the blanket that served him for a pillow and pulled out the knife he'd kept there since the end of time. A heavier creak gave him just enough warning to spring aside and plant the knife in the back of the onrushing intruder. It squawked, flapped its wings briefly, and then lay still. He stood in the ruined tenement building, knife in hand, as the first rays of dawn crept in through the cracks in the ceiling. He didn't feel half-bad. It was a better morning than he'd had since the End. And all it had taken him was something trying to kill him.


Inspiration: The wind made my door creak.
Story Potential: Medium-high. The world-setting idea (magic comes back, everything is extremely fucked up) has definitely been used before, but I think it could still be mined.
Finished Length: Novel or rather long short story.
Notes: Magic comes back, world is extremely fucked up as a result. Possible pseudo-magic-science reason: the earth's magnetic poles switch, which realigns the ley lines, which frees up a lot of fey critters trapped in starvation-level hibernation.