Silent Hill {Story}

[M16]

Days like this never ended well. As far as Sam knew, he had never had a good day when these things happened. Resting his head against the window of the Greyhound bus, Sam gazed his eyes upward at the gray clouds cyring onto the earth. Days like this never ended well.

Sam was on his way to visit his grandparents in Toluca. He was only staying the weekend, but regretted ever agreeing to this trip. Several weeks ago, he met a girl named Jessica at his friend's birthday party, and had made plans to meet up with her this exact weekend. Then he agreed to go visit his grandparents. He looked at the mountainside the bus was driving on.

As the rain continued to pound on the windows of the bus, Sam got to thinking about what his grandparents had in store for the weekend. If he was lucky, they would take him out to that nice steak restaurant with the cute waitress.

A caugh sounded in the seat behind Paul. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted an older looking man. The man was attempting to sleep, and had fallen into a coughing fit. As it ceased, the man's eyes closed again, and he fell back into an uncomfortable slumber.

Turning back around, Sam was startled to see a face right in front of him. As his eyes focused on the tiny little face in front of him, he realized it was a little girl. She was staring right at him, with her tongue sticking out. Smiling, Sam decided that he should keep his chun up about the weekend. He stuck his tonue back out at the little girl, and she smiled at him and waved, turning back around to sit with her mother. The lights on the bus began to flicker.

Confused, Sam looked around. No one else seemed to care. It was too mundane a day for anyone to take notice to anything so pointless as a flickering light. A road sign outside said "Silent Hill 6 Miles."

Sam groaned. He never liked passing through Silent Hill to visit his grandparents. It was such a boring town, and there was never anything exciting going on whenever he passed through. For all he knew, the town had been abandoned for years. The lights flickered again.

Without warning, the bus swerved. The only hint of explanation was the voice of the bus driver yelling out profanity. As Sam looked around, everyone else on the bus seemed to just be confused. The little girl in front of him began crying.

Grabbing onto the seat in front of him to maintain his position in his seat, he felt the lateral forces of the bus try to throw him to the gorund. The forces won. As Sam landed on his hip on the floor, he saw luggage begin to fly out of the compartments. He placed his hands in front of his face in an attempt to guard himself from any oncoming projectlies, and felt several small bags hit his legs and feet. After a little while the luggages stopped falling, and Sam pulled his hands away to take a look. Just as he did so, a purse dropped out of the compartment and fell right square on his crotch.

Sam let out a moan, realizing that the day had indeed turned bad. People all over the bus were yelling, and attempting to run around the small vicinity of the bus in an attempt to figure out what had happened. One man started making his way to the bus driver, but stopped short once he found him. The bus driver was staring out the front window, as if transfixed on something right in front of the bus. The man looked, but saw nothing. He turne his head to look out the boarding door, and opened his eyes wide in a shock of horror.

Sam was watching all this happen, and was sondering what was going on. He walked up to the man to ask him a qustion, but then he, too, saw the thing outside the door. At first, Sam just thought it was an ordinary dog. But as he looked more closely, he saw that it was missing chunks of its skin, and its insides were leaking out. And as if that wasn't enough to draw out his terror, Sam now saw a very long tube-like tongue protruding from the dog's mouth, tracing the edges of the doorway.

In a quick jolt, the dog pounced on the door and began snarling and making a strange slurping noise. Sam jumped back, startled at the site. He turned around to face the rest of the bus, and could only look at the reactions of the other people who had no idea what was happening outside of the bus.

[Spike Marshall]

Sebastian Markes fumbled with the envelope and carefully removed the latter, biting his lip when his nacho stained fingers marked the fine ivory paper. He read it again, if he had been bothered to count this would have been the 26th read through, and failed to find any clues to its origins. Then again the stark message, uniform handwriting, and biro etched text gave little away about anything.

Dear Mr. Williams,

My mother has died.
You are all I have left.
I hate you

Your Daughter,

Dee.

He wiped the letter carefully with a crimson handkerchief, bought at a Cairo bazaar and lugged around 5 of the world’s continents; before he placed it carefully back into the turquoise envelope it had arrived in. The envelope was far more evocative than the letter, red ink making a blood like scrawl as distinctive handwriting marked out a name he had not used for 12 years and an address only he knew.

Thomas Williams had died 12 years ago, the victim of a faceless war in Africa that America had sullied its fingers with, and he’d never had kids. He’d been born to a neglectful mother and a father versed in the arts of scandal and fraud. When his mother had finally taken selfishness to its most natural conclusion and topped herself his father took him under his wing and the two abandoned the paternal relationship and became at closest partners in crime and at farthest acquaintances.

Their nomadic lifestyle had made them immigrants of the American Midwest cruising from town to town and sucking the fattest sows’ dry of everything they had before they moved on. If Tom hadn’t been such a quick learner he might have got left behind but as it was he found time to get schooled in a most unusual manner, aided by his father’s reputation as a Lothario and predisposition to teachers.

If one were to look at him, tanned skin, blue eyes, a beautifully cut Italian suit you’d assume he was a confidence man still. His shoes, made in Milan, were polished to an unnatural shine, his shirt, the softest of silks, was a muted but inviting red, and his fair was dark auburn, shoulder length but tied back to reveal a pair of large brown eyes and a mouth that held an easy smile. In fact his life had at one point taken a drastic change.

The tenuous bond between father and son lasted until Tom was 19 years old. A deal went south and his father skipped town just in the nick of time to avoid the police but left Tom right in the thick of the boys in blue. He couldn’t really remember much about the trial, except for the judge spitting fire and brimstone, and the backhouse deal which let him avoid a lifetime in a cell for a decade in the corp.

The bus jerked ungainly as it moved over a hump, the wear and tear of the misused road making a normally uncomfortable trip almost unbearable. He stuffed the letter back into the inside breast pocket of his meticulously cut black suit before moving his hand towards his bruised face, testament to the beating he had received not more than a week ago, conservative use of makeup making it seem less nasty than it really was.

He stood up for a second and opened the attaché case above him in the luggage rack, quite curiously using only one hand, and moved a leather bound book out of the way before he retrieved an MP3 player and closed the case again.

He had served a good career in the army, a half decade or so spent in service of his country. Quite how teaching a criminal to use firearms and tactics effectively helped society he had never figured out but he and the corp. seemed a natural fit, which was why the break-up was so painful. Three bullets to the chest had floored him, a Bouncing Betty whipping out the skeleton crew of a squad he was touring with. The flak jacket had saved him from the Bouncing Betty but hadn’t been good enough to spare him the debilitating agony of a half dozen cracked ribs or the ignominy of being left for dead by his fellow survivors. A fortnight later Hank Jones would cry crocodile tears at his funeral, he and his fellow survivors thankful that no one had bothered checking up on the report.

Tom meanwhile had managed to haul himself out of that North African desert and started a new life in criminality. He emigrated up to Russia travelling all across the country before he set up shop in Vladivostok. He soon found himself a job running errands between the Russian and Chinese border and eventually expanded to run shipments all across Asia and Europe. His father’s gift as a confidence man coupled with his military training offered unique opportunities and soon he was the number 1 courier for a dozen criminals.

He never fucked up, until he got that letter.

He stared out of the window and looked at the dreary view and started to understand why the ticket seller had laughed at him when he asked for Silent Hill.

A week ago he and his new understudy had been charged with handling a shipment of girls from Russia to Japan for the more questionable industries in the land of the rising sun. He had received the letter a few days before and not thought much of it, in fact he had resolved to burn the letter and was about to do when he and his associate were called in for a meeting by his current employer.

They shot his associate right away, the lucky bastard. With Sebastian they just beat the crap out of him. All of the girls he had sent across to Japan had arrived dead, their rotting carcases alerting the police to the entire operation. He had fucked up big time and put them in a shipping container without proper ventilation. Because he had worked for them so long they let him go easy and shattered most of the bones in his right hand with a lump hammer.

Sebastian sat back in his seat and stroked his right hand, a velvet glove masking the extensive wire framework that was keeping his bone structure in one piece, before putting on his MP3 player and drifting off to sleep.

He was woken as he was thrown from his seat, the greyhound bus swerving violently in the road sending the luggage from the overhead racks crashing onto the floor. Most of the bags landed with a thump, Marke’s attaché case, hit the floor hard and sprung open throwing his one change of clothes into the air and sending the book, the King James Bible Old Testament, sliding down the aisle. He instinctively darted for the book and snatched it from the floor.

As he turned to pick up his clothes he noticed that the bus had come to a dead stop and that a young man was stood right at the front, he and the driver both looking utterly panic stricken. Opening the bible with one hand he quickly thumbed to Exodus and removed a large black pistol, a Russian made Stencen 7K, from a hollow cut out of the pages.

“Are you okay, up there” he said as the man looked back.

[Raebus]

A young boy lay on a bed inside a slightly cramped room, his scruffy brown hair sticking up in all directions. Seeming pretty normal really, besides a few cuts on his face, he appeared to be like any other boy.

Gradually, Leon woke up, his head still aching. As his eyes adjusted themselves to the dark room, taking in every corner of it and glancing around, he noticed the bandages on his arm. Still unable to remember how he even got there, he lay back down and looked up towards the ceiling, noticing every crack and flaw.

They were all probably worried, poor little Leon being all by himself in the world, being so much more in danger just because he couldn’t utter a single word. He smiled at thought of the last time he’d seen them, his parents. Bearing the same old smile but weeping inside, having a boy who’ll never be able to say those three words every parent wants to hear “I love you”.

Unable to laze around anymore, he got to his feet and stretched, breaking out the cracks in his back before yawning and heading out of the door. Unsettling, he couldn’t explain it but something didn’t seem right, seemingly oddly quiet. They’d probably say it was just he, with his condition and all. Paranoia, something he’d developed over the years.

It must be a real blast having a 16 year old that even flinched at the presence of his parents; he didn’t let it get to him. No, It couldn’t have been his damn paranoia. Leon passed at least 10 wards before coming to a stop, nothing, no one. He still couldn’t get rid of that feeling, like it was nagging away at him, occupying his every thought and literally forcing him to figure it out.

A scream brought him back to his senses, guessing, he ran towards the exit leading to the stairs, falling in such a rush. Nothing serious though, only moments of shame before pulling himself up and pushing open the plain door. A sense of dread ran down his spine, Leon stopped in his tracks, breathing in and out, he was never that healthy, heck, he collapsed halfway through the 100 m run in his old school. Again, a scream echoed through the hospital, almost as if it were gaining speed before disappearing again.

Filled with a newfound energy, even though his lungs felt like they were going to burst, he jumped the first set of stairs and clumsily ran the rest, almost tripping occasionally before barging through another door. Still no one in sight though, he didn’t have time to think though, a third scream, more violent than the last which almost deafened him.

It seemed pointless but the urge to simply protect whoever it was over rid it. Seemingly lost, Leon just ran in any old direction, it was like it didn’t come from one source, perhaps bouncing off the walls in all directions. Finally, he gave up. Bent over and holding his chest, he walked over to the nearest bench and tried to get comfortable, as comfortable as one could get on something which seemed like it wanted your back to ache.

(I wasnt sure of which hospital name to use)

[Ariel]

Alex slumped back into the highly uncomfortable seat she was sitting in. The seat next to her had been torn open by vandals and a vast chunk of the yellow foam inside had been ripped out. A lone cushing spring bobbed up and down, waivering from side to side as the coach headed down the poorly maintained concrete interstate.

The music of Akira Yamaoka's - Waiting For You blazed through the earphones into Alex's ears. She stared at her pale reflection in the coach window, the dull dirty sceenery that whizzed by outside reflected the vacant expression on her face. The lyrics of the song, one of Alex's favourites, just phased in one ear and out the other, she wasn't concentrating on them at all.

She let out a long sigh, placing her hand out against the window and drawing an imaginary line down it with her index finger. She had been on this coach for 2 hours now, and there were still a further 2 hours left of travelling to go.

She turned round and looked back down the carriage. There were only a few other people on the coach besides her, all of them were significantly older than her, some appearing to be in their early 60's.

Her eyes glanced around and quickly locked onto a male, aged around 30 looking rather suggestively at her. She rolled her eyes and the word pervert instantly came around. She diverted her attention back to the window, watching the various patches of dead grass and road signs zip by. She slouched further into the chair, trying and failing to relax and make herself comfortable. She pulled her phone out of her breast pocket and checked the time, it was 4:23pm. She placed the phone back in her pocket and sighed again.

Turning once more, she gazed vacantly for minutes, before her eyes softly closed...


...Suddenly a loud shreik of unmaintained brakes locking onto the wheels ripped through the carriage. She heard the driver swearing "what the fuck" in a heavy Texas accent, and the screams of the other passengers rung in her ears. There was a loud thud as the coach hit a pothole in the road, this combined with the force of the breaks through the coach off balance.

Alex felt herself getting thrown into the back of her seat, luggage from the comparts spewed out in the carriage as the coach flipped onto it's side, the concrete road connecting with the windows on Alex's side of the coach. By this time Alex had been thrown other to the opposite side of the coach. Pain seared through her back and as she stared preculiously down toward the window where she had been sitting just moments ago.

The sound of metal scratching along concrete echoed and screeched up and down the carriage. Sparks shot up as the metal grew in heat and shards of the window broke off. Luggage fell into the gap where Alex had been sitting, obstructing her view of the concrete road.

Screams still seared through the carriage, but they halted as a tremendous, sickening crunch bellowed from the front of the coach and the windscreen cracked under the pressure. The force threw her down into the luggage below. Her vision was blurred, she felt dizzy, her stomach churned, sound was fading....


Some time passes...

Alex awoke with a groan. Her back was stiff from pain yet somehow she managed to roll herself over. She could feel a blistering heat coming from behind her, she glanced round nervously to see the telltale flicker of orange, flames... The coach was on fire. In a blind panic she tried to pull herself to her feet, tripping and stumbling over armrests and loose luggage as she tried to find her balance in a coach that was resting on it's side. She finally regained balance and nervously glanced around for an exit, she looked down to the front of the coach and gasped in horror as she noticed the base of a road sign sitting right in the centre of the smashed windscreen, balancing at a tentative angle pointing towards the the roof. She glanced to the side, where the roof of the coach was, trying to remain calm, yet she could feel her heart pounding against her rib-cage.

"The emergency hatch in the roof..." she thought to herself before running over to it in a blind panic. She caught her foot on one of the armrests and she felt herself falling again. She hit the ground with a thud, and more pain shot through her giving her a terrible headache. With all her strength she clung on. The flames were growing larger and moving down the carriage rapidly. She had to get out, unable to get back to her feet she dug in and crawled her way over to the hatch.

Fumbling around from some sort of release mechanism, Alex let out a shriek as her hand connect with the metal frame work that was red hot. Then she hit it, the plastic handle. She closed her palm around it and turned it with as much force as possible and pushed outward. The hatch swung open, almost throwing her out of the carriage, daylight poured into the carriage blinding her vision as it tried to re-adjust. She scrambled and rolled out of the carriage and hitting the concrete road with another thud, without even stopping to let the pain register she dragged herself up and ran, as much as her state would allow, demanding every single bit of energy from her, toward the front of the carriage and beyond.

She felt a hot furnace shoot out behind her, the oxygen pouring in through the hatch had reacted with the fire and caused it to grow in intensity. She continued running until she considered herself to be at a safe distance. She stopped, and slowly looked over her shoulder.

A limp, lifelfess man hung out of the windscreen, drenched in blood, held in place only by the base of the road sign and the steering wheel. His bones in absurd places, dead. She screamed at what she saw, yet as the sound emitted from her mouth, the flames hit the engine and with a deafening boom the coach exploded, sending tyres, luggage, metal and all manner of objects ablaze soaring into the air. Her scream echoed down the road yet was drowned as the flying objects fell back down to earth with sickening thuds.

She fell down to the floor, shook up, unable to think, engulfed by horror. Her heart pounded like wildfire against her ribs. Thoughts and bodilly messages bombarded her brain. Adrenaline was serging through her. She was on complete overload.

"What do I do?" she murmurred as she found herself bursting out into tears from emotion, fear. Her body shook and shivered vigorously. She placed her head in her palms and sobbed. Thoughts shot through her head for an eternity, the scene replayed itself vividly, over and over. Yet one word sprung to mind - HELP. She had to get help.

In the same panic she clambered back to her feet. Eyes darting around for some sign of life. Yet a dense white fog covered her surroundings. The only thing she could make out was a small flight of stone stairs leading down to a path, which was fairly nearby. Yet off in the distance, some ways away she could see the outline of a tunnel, however it was too far for her to walk.

She panicked more, fog, coldness. These weather conditions were none typical of her Aunt's town. Just where was she. HER AUNT! THAT WAS IT! Alex quickly fumbled around in her breast pocket and pulled out her mobile. She frowned, the time was 4:23pm .... still .... shaking it off Alex pressed in her Aunt's number. However she was still trembling with fear. She pressed a few numbers in then her fingers slipped and she hit a wrong key, she tried to clear it but her fear grew large and the trembles more vigorous, the phone fell from her hands and she opened her palms in dismay. It hit the concrete road with a load crack as it smashed and sent the innards flying out across the road.

"No.... No.... nooo...." she murmurred, falling to her knees, frantically picking up the pieces and trying to re-assemble the phone. Then she picked up the main body of the phone, a massive crack had been made through the screen, it wouldn't work. She screamed again, half out of anger, half out of fear and threw the phone back into the road where it smashed it more pieces.

Again she felt emotions overrun her, she was traumatised and didn't know what to do, yet she was resolved to find help. Again she clambered back up, almost falling down again several times. Once she had finally gained balance she headed towards the stairs, she followed them down and they lead to a muddy path, with autumn leaves lining both sides along with bunches of weeds and dead plants. Her heels caused the leaves to make the beautfiul crunching sound, yet this time Alex did not stop to appreciate. She shivered with fear yet walked down the derelict lonesome path until it lead to another flight of stairs, which were destroyed.

She felt dismay run through her, but she noticed the path still continued. She attempted to follow it, yet she didn't have the energy within her. She slumped down against the stairs and passed out from complete overload....

Some time passes...

Alex awoke again, and sighed in dismay to find the bleak surroundings still around her as her vision came back into focus. She had passed out yet had not been found, she could of died. The thoughts caused Alex to sob again, yet the sleep had actually done her some good, she felt slightly energized again, and slightly less traumatised. Yet even though she could think clearly again, the situation still got to her, and she felt herself sobbing again...

After a few minutes of sobbing Alex quickly attempt pulling herself back together. "Come on girl, this isn't going to get you anywhere" she thought as she wiped tears from her now cold face. She folded her arms together and began warming them in an attempt to warm herself up, it sure was cold considering the time of year. She looked around and quickly surveyed her surroundings. Through the thick fog she could make out that there was a lake a few meters away at the bottom of a bank, on the other side of the lake the pale outlines of hills were barely visible in the fog. Trees dotted the side of the dirty country path that clearly wasn't often maintained as bits of dead tree and litter blew around gently in the gentle breeze.

She reluctantly pulled herself back to her feet, struggling to get a grip in the wet mud as her heels quickly sunk into it as if something was pulling her in. Her mother would kill her if she got these boots ruined after all the money that had been spent on them. Alex chuckled to herself, she was lost and yet all she was worrying about was what her mother would think of her mud covered boots when she got home.

She took a deep breath and urged herself to continue on up the path, despite the lingering sense of forboding in the air and an inner feeling inside to turn back. The path winded around several more trees, with the fog getting seemingly denser with each and every step taken. Eventually, after what must have been a good ten minutes the path split, with one path leading to a flight of stairs that appeared to lead back onto a road and another that continued on around the lake. Alex decided to go up to the road to see if she could find help.

She began climbing the stairs when her right foot slipped on a loose piece of concrete. Her reflexes took over and she shot her hands out toward the floor to break her fall. She landed with a small thud on the stairs, about 3 steps from the top. Pulling herself back up she mutter "idiot" under her breath in frustration with herself and she quickly found herself filling with anger. She looked down and noticed that she had small grazings on the palms of both her hands, and a small line of blood trickled down from the thumb on her left hand. She quickly held the thumb up to her mouth and began sucking on the blood to try and quickly clean the wound, she knew it wasn't exactly the most hygenic thing to do but she didn't exactly have any other option.

As she reached the top of the flight of stairs and finally stood on some stable concrete pavement a wave of hope shot through her as a payphone stood by the side of a grummy looking block of toilets that had clearly, due to evident weathering showing on the paint work, suffered from neglect. She ran up to the payphone and inserted loose change into it and dialed her Aunt's telephone number. However no dialtone could be heard and the money simply dropped out of the returned coins section. Her eyes looked down towards the telephone cable and as soon as she saw the cut wire she slammed the handset back down in frustration and shouted "Damnit" at the top of her voice. She grabbed back her change and shoved in one of the breast pockets of her jacket before kicking the phone box in frustration. The clang of her heel against the metal echoed several times. She placed her hand against the brickwall of the toliet block and placed her forehead onto her hand before closing her eyes and trying to get herself back together. She knew that when she was stressed she became exceptionally clumsy and her ability to think straight was often jeopordized. She took a deep breath and pushed herself off the wall. Where her hand had been placed was now a clear outline of her hand. She looked down and saw that dirt had transfered off of the wall and onto her hand, and some of the white paint had also peeled off and fallen down to the floor.

She dragged herself back around to face the opposite direction to the toliet block and squinted, through the fog she could see another outline of a tunnel. She sighed in dismay, surely she hadn't gone around in a complete circle had she? She hung her head low as she walked toward the tunnel, almost expecting to find that she had gone around in a circle. Yet this tunnel was different to the last. Wire-mesh fencing covered the entire entrance and a rusted sign saying 'Closed for Repairs' hung from one of the fence joints. Sure enough Alex could see drum barrels and portable offices behind the fence, yet it appeared that no-one had been there for quite some time as dust covered the top of the drums and no activity could be seen in the offices.

She took a step back and looked at the road signs on top of the tunnel entrance, this time the writing was legible. There was one brown sign that read "Pale Valley National Park - 10 Miles" with an arrow pointing down to the corresponding road lane, whilst next to it was a green sign that read "Pale Ville - 10 Miles, Old Silent Hill - 30 Miles, Brahms - 256 Miles". Alex sighed, her American geography wasn't all that great, yet she had a distinct feeling that neither Silent Hill nor Brahms where anywhere near her Aunt's quaint little town. She figured that Brahms must have been the next town over, but she didn't quite fancy the prospect of walking 256 miles, for obvious reasons. She looked around the top of the tunnel abit and saw another sign that read "Nathan Avenue Tunnel". So the name of the road she was standing on was Nathan Avenue. She congratulated herself on her pointless detective work as it wasn't exactly benefical right now. She looked lower and saw that several iron letters on white metal backgrounds hung from the fence just above the "Closed for Repairs" sign. They read "W E C O M !". Wecom? That makes no sense, what the hecks wecom supposed to mean? WAIT! Maybe it's; We Come? Eh?

Alex quickly pondered then realized how stupid she was being, the word was probably WELCOME and the L and the E must have fallen off due to weathering. She stared blankly at the tunnel for another few minutes trying to find a gate in the fencing, but it seemed that there wasn't one. The fact that the payphone wasn't working, the toliets had been neglected and two mainroad tunnels were inaccessible began to worry her. What kind of town was this Silent Hill place anyway?

She turned around to face the stairs that she had come up, it seemed that the scary little country path was the only way she was going to get into town. She looked around near the stairs and saw sign pointing toward the stairs, it read "Toluca Lake This Way ->". Next to the sign stood a dirt covered Ford Van that was probably painted in white metalic paint at one point, but you could hardly tell anymore due to the amount of dirt on it. The driver side door stood wide open, she walked up and saw that the windscreen had been smashed and the radio had been removed from the dashboard. She quickly deducted that this was probably the work of joyriders. However she was shocked to find that a map lay on the passenger side seat of the car. She picked up the map and as if by a stroke of luck it was a map for the area she was at. The map title read "Silent Hill" and it showed that the country path lead to a small town with further roads going from the town to areas titled "Old Silent Hill" and "New Silent Hill" however it appeared that these areas had been torn off of the map. Several strange drawings in green pen had been placed over some of the locations but Alex quickly dismissed these as the consequence of someone who got bored. She folded the map up neatly and tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans. The taxplate of the van then caught her eye, particularly the date on it which was "Expires End June 2000". She stared, puzzled at the plate, this tax plate was out of date by a number of years.

The total lack of maintenance practices in this town was really beginning to bug her, why was everything just left to decay like this? She pulled herself out of thought, and she unwillingly, almost as if she was being possessed, began to walk back down the country path and headed toward the town. Half eager to find the explanation of such disgusting findings, half hoping not to find the town in a similar state. As she continued down the path she noticed a fresh movement of mud that looked like someone had slipped there earlier and struggled to get themselves back to their feet. Alex stared at the mud for a minuted, then quickly decide to up her pace by figuring that the person who had slipped there wasn't all that far away. She continued on down the path hoping that this new lead wouldn't end in dismay... she could feel the emotions building back up inside her, a volcano ready to explode, she could quite easilly break down again...

[Spike Marshall]

As the sole of Marke’s shoe squeaked on the metal aisle, the back of his head exploded with sensation and his ears were filled with the distorted sound of iron on skull as everything disappeared into an inky void.

The darkness was shattered by a primal, demonic voice.

“Wake up you lazy fucker”

Marke’s slowly opened his eyes, the back of his head throbbing. He looked around for a while before his sight finally came into focus on a man dressed in a jet black robe. The man, despite the priestly dog collar around his neck, looked about as godless as Alistair Crowley and twice as dangerous. He looked down at Markes through a pair of rose tinted glasses, the colouring opaque enough to mask the eyes completely, a ferocious canine sneer etched on his tanned face.

“You fucked in the head or somethin’. Say something, fucker”

Markes head was swimming as it was, of this near demonic priest, with his greasy black hair and unnatural pale skin, confused his concussed faculties even more.

“Where am I?” asked Markes weakly.

“300 yards from where you were you stupid cunt” said the priest bobbing his head back towards the bus a few hundred yards down the road.

Markes looked at the bus, which was now on its side and in flames, for a second before he realised his suit was smouldering.

“A few more got out, they were more careful about it than that stupid bitch though” said the priest as a girl opened the emergency exit and cooked the unconscious dregs left on the bus.

“12 more souls dine with the lord tonight” he said as he crossed his chest and muttered in a language that certainly wasn’t Latin and certainly wasn’t the last rites.

Markes was starting to come too, the explosion had kick started his brain and now he was starting to realise where he was and what was going on. He was sat, cross legged in the middle of the road, his suit and hair smoking as if they had just been burnt. His gun was still in his hand, an attempt to move his hand ripping the skin from his palm where it had welded to the stock of the weapon.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Father Daniel Illandro Antipas of the Church of Our Lady in Silent Hill” he said, his voice sounding almost normal now, as he held a ringed finger in front of Marke’s face.

Markes simply looked at the hand and after half a minute the sneer returned to Daniel’s face. The hand twisted and in a split second had exploded across Marke’s cheek, the sheer force of the blow picking him up from the floor and knocking him a few feet down the street.

“Don’t you have any respect for god you fucker. You think I’m a fucking joke, fucker. Well you know what, fucker? I’m gonna fucking pray for your soul. You know what that means, fucker. It means your soul's gonna fucking burn. Every time I fucking pray your fucking souls gonna burn a little longer, fucking stupid cunt.”

And with that the priest let out a horrifyingly primal roar, his huge hands finding their way around Markes neck, choking the life out of him as he was hauled off of the street and into the air, supported solely by the arm of the 6 and a half foot priest.

“You stupid, stupid, fucker. You hurt her, fucker. And I’ll make you wish I’d crushed your throat right now” he snarled as once again Marke’s vision blurred.

He awoke with a start and found himself reclined in an old barber’s chair, a few dabs of shaving gel and a meticulously close shave suggesting the owner had indulged himself a bit. He leaned out of the chair and wiped his face down before pocketing the cutthroat razor that was resting in a bowl of soapy water just next to him.

A radio had been left on in the far corner of the shop, just above the dusty till, and was currently playing some cheesy piece of 50s Americana.

He closed the blade and placed it in his pocket before he realised someone had given him a holster and kindly placed his gun into it before wrapping it around his shoulder.

He walked over to the till and punched it open before he noticed his hand, which had been hurt by the burning gun. Someone had also taken the time to dress the wounds with pristine bandages and a dash of alcohol, by the smell of things.

He looked out of the huge front window, Curly Joe’s Barbershop written in a cheery red font across it, at the swirling fog outside. There was a neon ‘Hello There’ sign in the barber window, the O and T smashed to give a far more disconcerting message.

“Where Am I” he said as he pressed his face to the window to try and penetrate the fog.

A bloody child’s hand smashed against the other side of the glass scaring Marke’s onto his arse and leaving a visceral print on the window. The radio sudden blared with static as child’s laughter started to echo from outside.

[Ariel]

The crisp leaves on the muddy path slowly but surely lost the crunch as they became increasingly more wet and soggy. With each step she took, the fog just grew thicker before it was barely possible to see more than an metre in front.

"What's with this weather?" She thought to herself, trying to keep her mind off of the earlier events. It was a valid point, this weather was particularly out of season, the fog was damp and bitter and even though it was thick, Alex could see her breath coming out in clouds. She hastened her pace, the fog menancingly swirling around her, seemingly preparing to devour her. To her right she could see the faint outline of water, the path way was essentially forged on the bank of what looked like a lake. Several capcised wooden boats could be seen bobbing in the water, the owners no-where to be found. Again she pushed the thought aside, desperately struggling not to let the questions and worry get to her. She furthermore picked up her pace, practically ready to break out into a sprint.

Eventually the leaves thinned out and Alex felt the familar feel of concrete underneath her heels, making that rhythmic click-clocking sound as she marched over it. The sound was slightly relieving, it meant that she must be near the town. She slowed her pace, almost expecting a main road to appear, yet it did not.

The path continued to twist and turn, winding in and out of various bunches of evergreen trees. Eventually the outline of the lake disappeared, and all that was there was fog. Her eyes drifted to look to her right, yet as she did this she stepped into a cracked piece of concrete paving and fell face first into the ground.

"Oowwww..." she whimpered, the searing pain within her returned, something that her thoughts had earlier made her forget about. Her hands laid palm down on the concrete in front of her. She just laid, and stared at them, seemingly losing herself in thought. She stared at the bracelet on her wrist, her Aunt, she must be worried sick about her. Alex felt tears trickling down her cheeks again, dripping into small puddles on the concrete, flowing purely like a stream. She pressed her palms up and pushed herself off of the ground, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands before looking around.

A poorly constructed wooden fence was to the left of her, and a blue, open-back, truck was parked to the right. Her hopes shot up again, these were the first signs of life for a while, surely there must be someone around. Surveying her surroundings again, she paused, before walking cautiously toward the blue truck.

She couldn't see a registration plate on the back, yet the truck didn't appear to be in such a neglected state as the van by the tunnel. She walked around to the front. Neither door was open, yet the window on the right side was down. Cautiously she stepped towards the door, she poked her head in..... empty, nothing, no signs of the owner having any personal belongings or trinkets in it. She pulled her head back out and looked at the windscreen, the tax disc was also missing and there was no registration plate on the front. As she walked around to stare at the vehicle full-on, she felt something under her foot. Something hard, and.. metal. She glanced down to see a small spanner wedged under her footand an open tool box. Oddly, it looked exactly like her fathers' tool box. She looked around again, surely no-one would just leave tools lying around... would they? She glanced back down at the toolbox, and gasped. One of the tools had the initials CG painted on it. Her fathers' initials.... Christopher Gardner. Surely it was just coincidence.... Again she shot her head up, eyes darting from side to side, trying to find someone... something.

She turned and continued following the concrete path, as she walked a humming sound gradually became increasingly louder, it sounded like a form of machinery. Sure enough she continued walking and found a tree stump, the fresh smell of sawdust lingering in the air. Wedged into the stump was a chainsaw, the blade covered in a thick red blood. Her eyes widened as she processed this, the engine on the chainsaw was still going, yet the blades couldn't move as they were jammed into the stump. Yet the blood didn't run, it stayed, motionless on the top of the chainsaw. Cautiously she approached, hoping not to find the fate of the owner. She stood next to the saw, and titled her head to side... frowning, staring cautiously down at the saw. She reached her hand out to turn the chainsaw off, yet as her hand got nearer to the saw, the blood moved, and poured down the blade onto the stump before finally pooling on the floor. During this one flowing movement, the engine died on the chainsaw and it fell silent. Alex stayed, motionless, her hand still held out, wide open. She just stared, not thinking, not moving - like a shell.

A faint bang off in the distance bought her back down to earth with force, causing her to jump, and nearly fall over her own feet. Her heart thumped against her rib cage with such incredible force that it hurt. She glanced around, unable to work out where that bang came from.

She turned around, facing the direction which she was yet to venture, taking a deep breath. The situation was worrying her, what was with this place? But she was resolved to find help, surely these were just crimes on the outskirts that had yet to be reported. She began walking again, her feet sinking into some piles of sawdust that had collected on the floor, before she finally found the concrete again. The fog seemed to be even thicker than before, yet somehow Alex found her way. The path winded a few more times before it reached.... a junction! Alex saw the familar white paintings in the center that marked the middle of the road. A smile shot across her face, and she looked up... and stopped.

She could make a faint outline of a figure in the fog, around the same height - possibly taller - as her. She called out to the figure "Hey, uh is there a phone around I can use?" before walking slowly towards the figure. The figure seem startled it jumped... then a screeching, crackling sound came from Alex's MP3 player, the sound that it made when the radio wasn't tuned or was getting interferance. "What the..." she muttered to herself before looking down, at her pocket. She had forgotten all about the player. She pulled it out and looked at it, as she pulled it closer to her face the white noiz died. Huh? She squinted, the screen was cracked and the buttons were jammed. The headphones dangled loosely around the back. Must've got broken in the crash she figured. Before placing the player back in her pocket, along with the headphones. When she looked up, the figure had disappeared....

"Hey wait, where'd you go?" she called out in dismay, frantically running forward into the junction and looking around, quickly looking from side to side. The streetlamps were off, no lights could be seen in any of the houses on the outskirts, no people could be seen anywhere. Some litter and newspaper pages rolled gently down the street. There was nothing, the place was deserted.

Alex, sighed a couple of times in dismay, the emotions welling up again, tears trickling down her face once more. What was going on... where was everyone... what should she do? She many questions filled her mind. She rubbed her fingers through her hair out of stress, squinting, breathing deeply. Where was she? Then she remembered, the MAP! Surely there must be something around here. She reached into her back pocket and pulled the map out, yet as she was bringing it round to the front, the piercing white noiz sounded again, she looked down again, as she did so she caught a dash of movement in the corner of her eye. Her head shot up again, still holding the map, halfway in the pocket, halfway out. She looked around... nothing, yet the white noiz still rung. She took a few more steps forward, noticing a small steel plumbing pipe propped against a filthy red firehydrant. Out of her right eye she caught another blur. Walking cautiously toward the hydrant, she picked the pipe up, enclosing her free palm around it, the feel of cold steel shot through her arm making her shiver again. The tears had stopped, but her heart was still pounding... she turned round to her right to see something dart in front of her, then vanish, as it vanished so did the white noiz.

"What the fuck was that? What the fuck is going on here?" She said, in an uncontrollably loud exclaimation. Again she looked around, half expecting the thing to return. She stared back toward the path she had come from, tempted to go back up it, knowing it was safe, she sighed and leant against the hydrant, propping the pipe down beside it, before finally looking down at the map....

[M16]

[OOC: I'm very sorry I haven't posted since the first. I've been very busy. I'll finish this one up ASAP.]

While Sam stood at the front of the bus, commotion was having its way towards the back end. He and the bus driver were the only ones who had seen the creature outside so far, but everyone seemed to have a general idea that something was wrong.

Outside of the bus, the dog-like creature had decided it was time for lunch. He lept at the door of the bus over and over again, giving new fright to Sam each time. At about the fourth jump, the window started to crack. Sam looked back to the bus driver, but found him fumbling with the door to try to get it open.

When the bus driver finally managed to unlock and lift the handle, he almost fell out of the door frame and on to the cold street underneath him. The driver had gotten maybe twenty steps before Sam saw something lift him off of the ground.

Possibly more of a threat, however, was the little thing outside of the bus that seemed to realize that there was a better way into the vehicle. As it slowly began to make its way towards the open door, Sam stood staring, not knowing what to do, nor what the thing was.

The dog started to sniff around the open driver's side door when it noticed Sam was still standing there. Immediately it began to growl, and try to make its way over the seat. Luckily, the seat was mounted high up, so the dog was only able to get its front two paws on the seat and bark.

Looking for anything to scare the dog off with, he spotted a baseball bat underneat the steering wheel. Wondering for a moment what the bus driver would be doing with a baseball bat, Sam decided it would be a better idea to worry about that later.

Climbing up and placing his knees on the seat, Sam started to threaten the dog with the bat. Sadly, the dog seemed to be unphased by the bat and continued its helpless climb into the bus while still barking. All of a sudden a woman in the back of the bus caught sight of the dog and let out a high pitched scream.

Not knowing where the sound came from, Sam's attention was diverted for a moment. It was long enough enough for the dog to snap out and grab the end of the baseball bat with his snout. With surprising force, the dog managed to pull both the bat and Sam out of the door and onto the pavement below.

Landing on his elbows and his hands, a bullet of pain was shot through Sam's entire body. Now having its meal set out in front of it, the dog bared its teeth and haunched his legs to prepare for the strike. Sam could only look on in terror and bewilderment as the dog lept onto him, pinning him down.

The dog lowered its snout to sniff Sam and decide what to do with him. Seeming to come to a decision, the dog raised its head and made eye contact with Sam. All of a sudden it opened its mouth and let a long tongue come out and smother Sam's face with a sticky saliva.

While the dog reared its head to snap at Sam, he reached around him to try and find the bat. Luckily, it was still within arm's reach. Sam wrapped his fingers around the handle, and made a one-handed swing at the dog's head. The bat landed square in the side of its head and knocked the dog clear off of him.

Sam hurried himself up and prepped himself in an awkward sort of batter's stance, ready to swing if the dog attacked again. It did. Just as the dog jumped up at Sam, he swung the bat, once more knocking the dog to the ground. This time it failed to get itself back up.

Sam walked quietly over the dog, not sure of what had happened. Everyone on the bus seemed to stop the commotion for a moment to see what was going on outside.

When Sam reached the dog, he saw it was just laying there on the floor, motionless, with its long tongue sticking out. Trying to make the best of the situation, Sam coolly said, "I'll call you a licker," and raised his foot over the dog, crashing it down on the dog's ribcage.

Suddenly Sam could hear a loud siren. The sound was deafening. He looked all around, but couldn't find the source of the noise. Cupping his hands over his ears, Sam collapsed on the ground on curled up into a fetal position. He just wanted to rip out his brain.

---------------------------------------

When Sam awoke again, he found himself laying in a very uncomfortable bed. He stared up to find only a white ceiling with very dim lights shining on him. As he turned his head left and right, the only things he noticed were the scratchiness of pillow his head was on, and other beds all around him.

Sam tried sitting up, and for some reason his head was completely clear. No dark thoughts, no cloudiness, no headache. Sam swung around to drape his legs off the side of the bed, but found the bed was much lower than was possibly for him to let his legs drape completely.

He stood up, and walked around the room, trying to get his bearings. At first he did not see any doors, but soon after realized that he had just overlooked it as a desk for some odd reason. For some reason, however, the lock to the door seemed to be jammed, and he couldn't get out.

Looking for a window, or some other option, all Sam could find was a small sign that a desk on the wall had been moved; there were scratch marks on the floor beside it. Shrugging and deciding he had nothing to lose, Sam pressed his shoulder against the desk and shoved.

To Sam's surprise, he found that the desk was able to be pushed slightly to the side, revealing a hole in the wall. At the realization that he had no other option, Sam chose to climb through the hole. When he reached the other side, he saw a room just like the one he was just in.

He saw the door to this room and decided to try his luck. The lock wasn't jammed, and Sam was able to open up the door and take a step outside.

First glance showed that there was nothing wrong with this place, and it was just a regular hospital. Sam turned down the hall and decided it was time to look for an exit.

[Ariel]

Alex unfolded the map, it make the sound of paper that had been folded in shape for some time, as the edges carassed once another.

She was greeted by the dull sight of a blue blob, labelled Toluca Lake. Next to it was a dark browny beige colour representing land, the area had the label SOUTH VALE printed in green italics. She scanned the road, and noticed that Nathan Avenue, the road she had been on earlier, ran through the top of South Vale. On the map Nathan Avenue was significantly larger than the other roads, yet the road Alex was on was quite small.

She scanned around the map, before eventually finding the country path she had followed to this point. She traced the line with her right index finger and found that somehow she had walked right through Nathan Avenue again and ended up on Sanders St. A street right at the bottom of the map. She scaned the names of the marked buildings in the perimetre; Happy Bugger, Mexican Restuarant, Flower Shop... surely, if all these stores were here, the place would surely be thriving with activity. She stared blankly at the map, pondering. Surely one of these stores would have a telephone. She scanned again, according to the map, the Mexican Restaurant should be directly to the left of her, almost without prompt, she turned and sure enough she could make out the outlines of the restaurant. She folded the map up again, and placed back in her back pocket.

She then, nervously clenched the steel pipe again before pressing herself off of the hydrant, and turning - walking in a hurry, toward the restaurant. As she got closer she noticed that the windows had been painted black, yet the door was ajar, a glimmer of hope. She stepped delicately up the concrete steps, her heels clicking with each step, before she reached the slightly open wooden door. The sign on the door read "OPEN" yet the open hours were blurred. She could see no light coming out. Gently, and cautiously, she pushed the door open slightly. Her heart pounded, she breathed heavilly, before pushing the door open fully and walking in.

Nothing, the place was dark, deserted... except for a few rays of light that radiated dimly through the windows. She glanced around, before noticing a light, flickering, steadilly... on, off, on, off, on, off. With each transition there was a small click. Alex's curiosity took over her again, and she found herself walking toward the source. She let out a small chuckle, possibly from nerves as she reached the counter to find a torch, and a nodding bird bobbing up and down rhythmically onto the on/off button. She titled her head again, looking at the object almost like a cat tracking it's pray. And like a cat, she waited, waited until the light was off and the birds beck was away from the button, then with the reflexes of a cat, her hand shot out and she grabbed the torch in with swift motion. Then, she stopped, the bird should be tapping the table around.....

A deafening crash sounded behind Alex, she spun round flicking the torch on in the process and shining it in the direction where the crash had come from. On the floor, smashed into several pieces were China plates and glasses. The light hit the glass shards and reflected beautiful, making them shine with a diamond like radiance.

Alex looked up, in the center of the mess stood a mannequin, covered in various sheets of soldered plastic, and what looked like dry blood stains. She stared at the mannequin, it lifelessly stared back, forever entanlged to a fate where the plastic binded it, all it could do was look on. There it remained, motionless. Alex shuddered, it must've been rats or something. She turned back round and pointed the torch at the nodding bird, it's beak now stuck in the table, meaning that it no longer hand the kinetic energy to bounch up and down. Then another crash came from behind her, white noiz rung through the air again, instantly reacted and spun round to be greeted by a hard force, the feel of plastic, slamming into her side.

The thing hit her with such force that she, without intention, flew across the dinner, before slamming into the counter. In the process she had dropped both the torch and the steel pipe out of shock, yet as if by luck, the torch illuminated the radius in front of her.... and there it hobbled. The mannequin that was lifeless moments ago hobbled towards her, with each step it took the sound of crunching bones filled the air, Alex's jaw dropped in fear and she screamed. The thing then took another swing at her, Alex frantically crawled out of the way.

Again her heart was pounding, she was shivering with fear, the adrenaline shot round her like wildfire causing her to act on instinct, not even thinking about what she was doing. The mannequin hit the counter, causing the counter to crack slightly under the pressure.

Alex glanced around, quickly trying to get back to her feet. Then she found it, the ray of the torch clipped the edges of the steel pipe she had dropped earlier. As the mannequin turned round to face her, Alex looked at it once, before literally diving across the room and landing by the steel pipe. She grabbed the pipe and quickly made haste back to her feet.

The mannequin hobbled toward her again, this time seemingly faster than before. Without thinking Alex held the pipe behind her head, and in one swift movement, like a baseballer hitting a ball for miles, she swung.

The pipe collided with what would be a head of the mannequin. Hitting it with a sickening force that made a stomach chruning cracking sound. The head became dislocated from the rest of the mannequin, and flew across the dinner with some speed, colliding into bottles of liquer behind the counter. The sound of plastic cracking and glass smashing echoed through the air. Then, there was silence from the mannequin, but the white noiz did not fade. The rest of the mannequin fell limply onto the floor, where it remained... motionless. Keeping her eye on the mannequin, Alex moved slowly back to the torch and picked it up, before darting toward the door, yet in this process, in a one last stand the mannequin grabbed her again.

Screaming with rage Alex swung the pipe down onto the mannequin, over and over again, beating it down into several smashed pieces. The white noiz abruptly stopped. Before stopping, her stomach churned, she ran outside, to the kerb. There her stomach gave out and Alex threw up, the sickening taste of vomitting filled her mouth. Her heart still pounded, yet her breathing had turned to sighs of relief that whatever went on in there was over.

What was going on in this town, where was everyone? More to the point, what was that... that.... THING? So many questions, so many fears that filled her with an uncontrollable custard of emotions. She fell to the floor again, this time from her own will, dropping the pipe; which hit the pavement with a clang, and the torch which hit the pavement with a small thud. Tears trickled down her cheeks again, she sobbed, whimpered, before burrying her head in her hands out of angst...