Hello all! This could be just a oneshot, but if readers want more, I would be happy to turn it into a few chapter story. Hope you enjoy it!

I can smell the fires burning under me. The fog and ash caresses my skin. This place is the only home I can remember.

Silent Hill.

How did I get here? I can't even remember that. I can't remember anything before I turned up on the steps of that God-forsaken church.

They call this town Hell. I have grown rather fond of it. It is all at once hauntingly beautiful and terrifying. It sings to me; the rundown buildings, the streets wrapped in fog, even the dull lake. I think I am one of the damned.

When the town is not the in its otherworldly state, I find it calming. Wandering the streets by myself makes me feel less helpless. I found a small apartment on top of a shop to sleep in.

None of that matters when the world transforms though.

I like that side of Silent Hill as well. The buildings creak, the fog rolls in thicker than before, and the hymns of the holy mix with the howls of the sinners.

I am no different than them. When the siren rings, I too succumb to the call of the other world.

I cannot fight with feral deadliness like some of the other creatures can, but I can blend into any shadow. It's a valuable asset; it helps me seek out food, scout enemies, and even catch glimpses of Him.

I seek him out. It's foolish, it will be the death of me, but I don't care. Even to hear the harsh sound of metal on metal, to hear his heavy footfalls, to hear the raspy breathing under the helmet…

I've only seen Him once, from a distance. I was close enough to see his white skin, marbled with deep blue veins and the blood of his victims. He is God in this town, and so I worship him.

Is he lonely? Can he talk? What is his true name? The men in the mining suits call him the Bogeyman or Pyramid Head, but it doesn't fit. He is God, and I want to learn his true name.

He haunts my thoughts almost every minute. Am I afraid of him? Of course. He is the executioner of Silent Hill and I am but a sheep.

Do I love my God? Would I follow him to my death willingly?

Yes.

Tip Tap. Tap.

I hate the nurses.

Being trapped in a room with them in the otherworld isn't my idea of a good time. They are walking around blindly, blocking the room's only exit.

Their faces are torn up, bandaged, hollow, beaten in, bloody. Grotesque works of art, perfect bodies with horrific faces. They are bringer of pain and death, luring anyone stupid enough to succumb to their enticing bodies.

Screeeeech.

My heart leaps to my throat.

Screeeeech.

It's him. The executioner is right outside.

Screeeeech.

I freeze as the door just across from my sitting place swings open and bangs on the wall.

Seeing him far away does not compare to him up-close. He is a marble God, splattered and smeared with the blood of sinners.

He drops the great knife and grabs a nurse by the throat. They all crowd around Him, begging Him to take them.

I hate the nurses.

I'm not in full view, but I can hear the feral grunts as He violates them and the sickening snap when their backs break. I am sickened by the thought of Him taking those grotesque beings.

The distraction He caused cleared the door, and with all the wails of pain and snapping bones, I am eager to leave.

I pull my body from the shadows for just a moment, to grab the door handle. A few more seconds, and I can continue to watch my God from afar…

I hear a scraping sound and instantly know it's the great knife. I slowly turn around and gasp in both shock and awe.

The nurse's bodies are bloody, crumpled messes all over the floor. The carpet is quickly soaking up the blood; the pool is almost to my feet.

He stands there like a statue, perfect and dangerous. I can't tell where his eyes are, so I stare at the point of his helmet, which is merely inches from me. My heart is going into overdrive. I can smell the sex, the sweat, and the blood pouring off of him in waves.

He swings the knife in a deadly, sloping arc through the air. Instead of hitting me, it just hits air. I stalk off to a corner, laughing dryly.

"Greetings, Executioner."

To my surprise, he just turns around and blocks the door.

I'm completely fucked, and he knows it.

"You can't stand there forever."

We shall see little shadow.

His voice is harsh, exotic, terrifying. Everything I hoped it would be.

"You need food too you know."

Been watching me?

I don't say anything. How do you tell the Executioner you've been stalking him?

Planning on killing me little shadow?

I bark out a laugh. Me, kill the God of this town? How laughable. I am just a sheep to his flock. I follow him; I am silent, unseen, and wholly loyal.

"You will leave. I'm nothing to you."

I beg to differ. Come out, I will not hurt you.

"You just tried to slice me wide open with that giant knife!" I hiss at him, but materialize none the less. Deep down in the darkest parts of my heart, I know he is not a liar; a murderer maybe, but an honest one.

He just stands there for what seems like lifetimes and stares at me. I cannot rival his beauty. My hair hangs in a long, dull curtain of black grim and filth, obscuring my black eyes and pale grimy face. My clothes are caked in filth, and I can smell the metallic stench of blood on my skin.

I have not seen you before.

"I keep to the dark places."

He takes a step forward, and I take a step back. It's a dance of death and I am well aware how dangerous this game is.

You are so like them. Do you belong to that Damned church?

"No."

He shakes his head and turns around, opening the door.

You don't belong here.

"You say that, but here I am anyway. Kill me, and we can fix that problem." I offer myself willingly to him. A death by his hand would be the best kind of release.

He just shakes his head again, and then motions for me to go through the door. I pass right by him, tentatively reaching my hand out to his chest. His skin is cold, but not freezing, and damp with sweat. I leave trails through the blood where my fingers touch.

He cringes away from my touch, but it only lasts for a moment. I fly into the hallway, through the streets, and back to my small room. The darkness is waning. The change happens before my eyes, but I am too tired to care. I lay down on my old lumpy cot, not even bothering to wipe the grime away.

I will see you again little shadow…

His voice, so angelic to me, resonates in my mind. I am oddly comforted.

I will be meeting the Executioner again. He is my God, and I am his worshipper.