Alan Wake!
Chapter 1 – NIGHTMARE
Disclaimer:...i don't own any of Alan Wake?
Stephen King once wrote that "Nightmares exist outside of logic, and there's little fun to be had in explanations; they're antithetical to the poetry of fear." In a horror story, the victim keeps asking why - but there can be no explanation, and there shouldn't be one. The unanswered mystery is what stays with us the longest, and it's what we'll remember in the end.
My name is Alan Wake. I'm a writer.
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For several weeks now, I've been having a particularly unsettling recurring nightmare. I've always had a vivid imagination, but this dream unsettled me. It was wild and dark and weird, even by my standards. So yes - it began with a dream.
Following your typical nightmare pattern, I was late, desperately trying to reach my destination – a lighthouse – for some urgent reason I couldn't remember. I'd been driving way too fast down a coastal road in the dead of night to get there. As I sped out of a tunnel, gripped by a sense of cold determination, I had a split second to see a hitchhiker standing on the road in front of me. Alarm bells exploded in my head as I slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. There was an almighty CRUMP as the car struck the doomed man, sending him flying through the air before he landed hard further down the road – unmistakeably and terrifyingly still.
Breathing in short gasps of primal fear, I all but leapt out of the car and rushed to the hitchhiker's body. Falling to one knee, I desperately checked his pulse, but this only confirmed what I already knew – he was dead. Heart pounding in my chest and racked by terrible guilt at what I'd done, I looked down at my victim's body. I was convinced the authorities would put me in jail, and I would never see Alice again.
My thoughts were interrupted as behind me, the car's headlights suddenly switched off, plunging me into near-total darkness – my only light source the pale luminescence of the moon, drifting high above. However as I turned back to the hitchhiker my heart leapt into my mouth and I frantically scrambled backwards, managing to use the front of the car to pull myself to my feet. The body was gone.
I realised that I was in shock from the crash – I could hardly stay on my feet. Above me, a street lamp suddenly turned itself on in much the same way as the car's headlights had turned off, bathing me in cold artificial light which formed a welcome contrast with the darkness of the night. After gathering my senses, I inspected the car to find steam hissing out from beneath the hood. I realised that the radiator had broken when I hit the hitchhiker, and that the car wasn't going anywhere. With no other choice, I set off on foot along the empty road towards the lighthouse, poised atop a cliff overlooking the ocean far below – the lone bastion of light in the distance. I knew there was something important waiting for me there – only I didn't know what that 'something' was.
A little way down the road, I neared a bridge spanning a river below, which I hoped led to the lighthouse. But as I drew closer I saw that it had collapsed. I say collapsed – it looked as though something had torn a hole out of it, which to me looked eerily like a gaping mouth, eager to lure me to my death. Stowing such thoughts firmly in the back of mind, I spotted a nearby wooden walkway which seemed to lead down to the lighthouse as well, and set off along it. A sign at the beginning of the walkway announced that I was on a hiking trail in Rain Cove Point, which may as well have been Oz for all I knew of it – if the place even existed in the real world. As I passed under a street light, about to descend a flight of stairs, I heard a faint noise coming from where I had left the car, and turned to look. I immediately froze, rooted in fear by what I saw by the vehicle – the hitchhiker had returned, and he was very much alive.
In the time it took me to blink, the man was suddenly right in front of me, sending me reeling back in terror and shock. With the hitchhiker only a few feet away from me, I saw that there was something very wrong about him. He was wrapped in shadows, which seemed to cover his entire body, obscuring his face to the point where he was unrecognisable. Even more chilling, I noticed that he held a weathered wood axe in his hands, across his waist.
The hitchhiker suddenly spoke, the maliciousness in his voice almost unsurprising considering his appearance. Shadows billowed around him as a light wind swept around us. "You don't even recognise me, do you, writer?" he asked. I could sense the maddening hate-filled grin on his face as he spoke. "You think you're God?"
All sense of delight in the hitchhiker's voice disappeared as he lifted the axe, continuing to rant as he swung it back and forth, tearing great chunks from the walkway's wooden handrails as he did so. I backed away in horror as the hitchhiker slowly advanced towards me, still swinging his axe wildly. "You think you can just make up stuff? Play with people's lives and kill them when you think it adds to the drama? You're in this story now, and I'LL MAKE YOU SUFFER!"
Those last few words were delivered in an inhuman roar. The axe's blade narrowly missed me as I stepped backwards, stopped from moving any further in that direction by the guardrail as the walkway turned to a collapsed set of stairs. The axe continued into the nearby street light, cutting its power and sending a shower of sparks down from the broken light. I ducked away from them as I rushed along the walkway, leaping across some broken stairs to the lower walkway a few feet below in an attempt to escape my attacker. Panting for breath, I realised that the hitchhiker's attacks, physical and verbal, had stopped, and I turned to look. My would-be murderer stood at the top of the stairs, watching me with invisible eyes. "You're a joke," he spat at me. "There wouldn't be a single readable sentence in one of your books if it wasn't for your editor. You'll never publish another one of your shitty stories, 'cause I'm going to kill you!"
Making sure that the hitchhiker – or whatever he now was – remained at the top of the stairs, I hurried down the walkway, now even more determined to reach the lighthouse. Behind me, my attacker called after me, his voice now constantly shifting between that of a human being and something much deeper and dark: "It's not like your stories are any good - not like they have any artistic merit! You're a lousy writer. Cheap thrills and pretentious shit! That's all you're good for! Just look at me! Look at your work!"
Wanting to do anything but, I continued along the walkway as fast as I could, the wind now picking up considerably. A sawhorse had been put across the path further down, but I would not be stopped. I clambered over it and into a small clearing doubling as a viewpoint, overlooking the lighthouse. I paused a moment to catch my breath - when a horribly familiar voice yelled out from right behind me: "YOU MISSED YOUR DEADLINE!"
The hitchhiker had seemingly returned out of thin air, just like he did by the road. But I had no time to think of this: I instinctively threw myself to the ground and felt something whistle by the back of my head. Rolling over, I saw that I'd narrowly avoided being decapitated by the shadowy figure, who quickly raised his axe high above his head for another blow. Terrified, I rolled to the side as the axe swung down where I had been a moment before, embedding itself in the soft ground with a muffled THUNK. As the hitchhiker pulled his weapon free, I desperately looked around for a way to escape and spotted a small gate across the clearing. Running for my life, I frantically pulled at the gate to find it locked shut. Before I could even think of climbing it as well my attacker was back on me again, roaring "YOU CAN'T STOP ME!" I turned just in time to duck under another intended blow to the face from the axe, undoubtedly losing a few hairs in the process as I staggered forward from the momentum. The air catching in my lungs from the exertion, I spun round to face my opponent again – only to find that he had vanished. As I bent over, hands on my knees to try and regain my breath, I was struck with a sudden realisation – the hitchhiker was a character from a story I had been working on. However thanks to the dream, I had no idea what story I was thinking of.
After I felt I'd recovered enough, I moved back to the gate, which in a fashion that now all but unsurprised me, opened itself. I proceeded through it without a second thought, across a small wooden bridge above the river flowing through the gorge below to reach the other side. Then the hitchhiker returned.
I sensed his presence and turned to find him standing on the side of the bridge I had just come from. "How does it feel to die by the hand of your own creation?" he called out menacingly. Without warning, he suddenly and instantaneously disappeared again, consumed by a tornado seemingly composed of pure darkness in his place. The wind whipped up violently around me as the maelstrom sucked up parts of the walkway I had used. Eager to avoid this new form of death, I turned and fled for my life down the hill. As I did so I felt the tornado in hot pursuit, as the noise drew closer even as I fled from it. At the same time it seemed to emit an awful sound, somewhere between a scream and a wail of utter agony.
Overhanging lights shattered as I rushed down the dirt path, incomprehensibly but unquestionably an effect of the shrieking shadow storm. The ground shook as I reached a long rope bridge crossing over another part of the gorge. I was about to set off across it when I suddenly spotted someone waiting at the other side, undoubtedly another shadow person. Even as I thought this I realised that I was wrong, as even from my far-off position I saw that the man was not engulfed in shadows. As if on cue, the stranger spotted me and called out: "This way! This way!"
With such shouting the only impetus I required, I sprinted across the bridge as best I could as it swung alarmingly in the fierce winds. I managed to stumble across to the other side just as the bridge could take no more, and promptly collapsed. Remembering my new friend, I turned to face the stranger, a balding man a few years older than me somewhere in his mid- to late-thirties and wearing a green and yellow football jacket. I was also sure to take in the revolver in his left hand.
"Mr. Wake, it's me, Clay Steward, remember?" the man said, the fear in his voice unmistakeable. For the life of me, I had no idea who Clay was. However Clay quickly interrupted my attempts at remembering, shouting out orders over the din of the wind and the tornado and pointing to a nearby cabin: "Quickly, get inside! There's no time to lose!"
With the tornado crossing the gorge, I had no intention of arguing, and rushed towards the cabin's open door with Clay right behind me. I hurried into the comforting light of the building's interior – but the door slammed shut behind me, keeping Clay outside. Both of us frantically wrestled with the door to try and open it, but it inexplicably would not move. Moments later though, I was diverted from the struggle as the winds and tornado died simultaneously. Moving to a nearby window, I looked out to see that the tornado had returned to the form of the hitchhiker, still wielding his axe and now standing by the former bridge, from where he quickly headed towards Clay.
Clay must have noticed him too, as I heard him utter a terrified "Oh no!" from the other side of the door. Sure enough, my saviour descended the cabin's porch steps and fired at the advancing evil, calling out for it to stop with no success. Amazingly, the revolver's bullets did seemingly no damage to the hitchhiker as it continued advancing unhindered. In sheer desperation, Clay unloaded the rest of the pistol's cylinder into his enemy, crying out "Die, dammit, die!" before suddenly running out of bullets as the hitchhiker swung his axe. "No! No! Aaahhh!" cried Clay in sheer terror – before his cries were suddenly silenced. I watched in horror as the hitchhiker extricated his axe from the top of Clay's head, allowing the latter's body to tumble to the ground before bringing the axe down into him again. No sooner had he done this that the attacker suddenly looked up, straight at me, causing me to almost literally jump in fear. I was trapped. There was no way out.
Around me, several seemingly discarded mini TV sets suddenly activated, showing terrifying images of eyes rotating madly in their sockets. At the same time, a mad chant began, seeming to emanate from all around me: "Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die..." Spotting a side door, I hurried across to it in a bid to escape, only to find it immovable as well. All of a sudden, as I stood rooted in fear, an insane cackling filled my eardrums, and something huge swung itself against the house, throwing me across the room and into the far wall, hard. No sooner had I picked myself up that it happened again, and again. Each time I was flung around the room, impacting the walls hard enough to break bones. The cabin was a death trap, but I could see no exit. However no sooner had this thought passed through my mind that the cabin's side door dissolved in a shimmering ray of light, shone from outside, and the cabin stopped shaking. A muffled voice suddenly spoke up, just as loud and omnipresent as the dark beings: "Follow the light."
I did as I was told, limping outside. The light being appeared to me to be in direct contrast to the darkness. Bathed in its own light, it could not be seen, but only radiated its brilliance from a spot in the sky. As I watched, it shone over a deactivated street light nearby, somehow turning it on. "You are hurt," said the voice. "You should go into the light. You are only safe there." Following my instructions, and eager to move out of the darkness after my experiences, I headed into the light. As the voice had suggested, I quickly began to feel better, the pain from my many bruises sustained in the attack on the cabin dissipating.
As if sensing my recovery, the Light deactivated the street light, and congratulated me on obeying his instructions correctly. "I have something important to tell you," the muffled voice continued. "It goes like this: "For he did not know, that beyond the lake he calls home, lays a deeper, darker ocean green, where waves are both wilder and more serene. To its ports I've been. To its ports I've been." Do you understand?"
"...No!" I replied after a moment's thought, honestly confused and somewhat frustrated.
"Follow my light," said the voice. I watched in wonder as the Light shone on broken pieces of a nearby flight of stairs, repairing them in a matter of seconds. As I descended them, following the Light into another clearing – now so close to the Lighthouse – its voice spoke again. "I entered your dream to teach you. The darkness is dangerous. It's sleeping now. When it feels you coming, it will wake up. There's no time – I can only show you the most important thing."
Growing even more confused by such cryptic conversations, I reached the centre of the clearing where the light was shining to see the hitchhiker suddenly rematerialising directly in front of me. I instantly moved to run – and then noticed that he was unmoving, not even looking at me.
"The hitchhiker has been taken over by the Dark Presence," the voice explained. "You can't hurt him now. The darkness protects him from all harm."
The Dark Presence. It sounded like something I could have come up with, given time. And the voice's words about protection rang true with me, as I remembered Clay's death minutes before at the hands of the seemingly invincible hitchhiker.
"Only light can drive the darkness away and make him vulnerable again." I turned as the Light illuminated a tree stump nearby. "Here, take the light," the voice said. As I watched, a flashlight descended in the ray of light to rest on the stump. I quickly snatched it up, thumbing the switch and arming myself with what I saw as my personal defensive weapon.
"Now, turn the light on him and burn the darkness away." I did as the voice said somewhat gingerly, still unsure of the power of a beam of light against such a powerful foe. However my suspicions were proven unnecessary - as I looked on in surprise and something close to amazement, the shadows around the hitchhiker cried out much like the tornado had, and light refracted off in thick beads. The more I increased the focus of the beam, the more the shadow's cries intensified, until finally they exploded in a burst of light, leaving the hitchhiker looking identical to the man I had apparently killed with my car earlier that night.
"You did it," the voice said, sounding both relieved and satisfied. "Now the darkness no longer protects him. But it's still inside him, controlling him. He can't be saved. He is still a threat, he is still your enemy. Here, take the gun."
This startled me out of my wondrous stupor. I looked around to find that the Light had delivered me a revolver similar to Clay's, lain on the tree stump. In somewhat of a daze, I picked up the firearm, feeling its weight in my hand. Despite the hitchhiker being under the control of the 'Dark Presence', part of me objected to the idea of killing him. However this quickly changed as he advanced on me, axe held high and exclaiming "Now you'll die!"
In my time as a crime writer, I had had practice on a firing range to better understand the power of guns and their properties, and picked up a little experience shooting as well. I put this experience to good use now, taking a brief moment to aim down the revolver's barrel before firing. The recoil and almighty noise as the gun fired still surprised me, but I managed to shoot my assailant twice, upon which he exploded in a shower of light, leaving no trace of his body.
The Light was apparently pleased by my work. "Good," it said. "You've done well. Remember what I've taught you. That is all. I will give you back your dream now." And with that, the Light flew off, disappearing.
My encounter with it had awakened memories concerning the rest of my dream, which was taking a decidedly confusing turn. In the nightmare, a terrible darkness was taking over the world. The lighthouse was the last safe place on earth. I was now closer to the building that I had been yet in the nightmare, only separated from it by a winding dirt path and a final wooden road bridge.
I hardly even noticed as the gate on the other side of the clearing opened itself to let me through, and I proceeded along the path. All of a sudden, more axe-wielding hitchhikers, 'taken' by the Dark Presence emerged from the bushes alongside me. Acting quickly and remembering what the Light had told me, I fell back, focusing my flashlight in order to eliminate the shadows surrounding my opponents. With their defences destroyed, I quickly gunned them down as fast I could before they could attack me.
Moving on, I walked into the now comforting beam of a functioning street light, with an emergency box attacked to its body. Opening it, I came across a flare gun and a few rounds of ammunition – perfect for combating the Dark Presence. After stopping for a moment, I headed back off along the path and into the darkness – where more Taken attacked. Fear knotted in my stomach as they emerged from the bushes on either side of the path and converged in total silence, advancing towards me. Steeling myself – and having never fired a flare gun before – I took aim as best I could with one hand, and fired. While the recoil from the shot sent my right hand flying backwards, staggering me along with it, the flare flew through the air, impacting the Taken in the centre of the advancing group square in the chest. The resulting explosion of light startled even me, and instantly wiped out the entire group, much to my relief.
With my enemies defeated, I followed the path around to a nearby road and found myself directly across from the lighthouse, separated from me by a wide wooden road bridge spanning another nightmarish and seemingly bottomless drop. But I should have known I wouldn't cross the bridge unhindered. A familiar voice cried out somewhere in the darkness: "I CAN KEEP THIS UP FOREVER!" As the winds picked up and unearthly noises emanated nearby, I turned to see that the tornado had returned further up the road, now sucking cars, industrial equipment and other dangers into its deadly orbit. Readying myself, I took careful aim and fired another flare straight into it.
It kept on coming. I imagined horror dawned on my face as I realised that this enemy could not be stopped. Hurriedly, I turned and fled full pelt across the bridge, the tornado hot on my tail. The tornado screamed in what sounded like rage as I ran, but any thoughts of its intelligence were cut short as it sent a car hurtling at me. I instinctively ducked and was terrified to feel it fly over my head, before it crashed through the bridge, taking a huge chunk out of it. I quickly changed course to avoid it and continued fleeing, as the tornado threw more vehicles at me, narrowly missing me and destroying much of the bridge instead.
After what seemed like an eternity, my legs failing and my lungs burning, I reached the other side of the bridge and quickly used the last of my stamina to run into the lighthouse, where light flooded from its open door – which I promptly closed tight. As the tornado approached outside, I all but closed my eyes and prayed to survive. Amazingly, the seemingly-normal lighthouse door held fast, and the tornado moved off, filling the area with silence in its wake.
With the Dark Presence seemingly gone, I headed through the old stone building to the base of the tower, eager to meet fellow survivors. As I entered, I stood for a moment, marvelling at the brilliance of the light that had protected me shining down through the many holes in the tower's spiral staircase. However, my marvel was short-lived. The light suddenly cut out.
The fear I thought I had left outside returned with alarming speed, filling me in a matter of moments. Panicking, I looked around for any sign of movement – and heard something coming down from the top of tower. Looking up, I came face-to-face with the descending horror. At the same time I distinctly remember hearing the chilling voice of an old woman, no more than a whisper but somehow equally as terrifying as my fate, uttering, "he's here." As the thing from the top of the lighthouse launched itself at me, I opened my mouth to scream in sheer terror, but before I could so much as draw in breath, another soothing voice whispered in my ear, right beside me.
"Alan. Wake up."