Title: Siren's Call
Author: Naria Lacour de Fanel
Rating: G
Warnings: None
A/N: This was going to be an intro to an original Silent Hill fic that never came to be...because it sucked. I only liked the intro, so here it is. This is how Silent Hill, in all her mind bending twisted horror, appears to me.
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Mysterious and melancholy, she sits. She is sleeping, waiting, watching…
...tempting.
She is viewed by some as a temporary solace; a place to seek answers for others; a retreat for many; and a vicious trap to all who find themselves wandering into her deceptive embrace.
An abandoned car left for the elements huddles sadly against the worn concrete curb that intimately presses against it's defeated tires. A derelict building slowly crumbles in upon itself rather than let the heavy air take it's toll on it's aged skin and bones. Soda cans and errant wrappers scuttle in an unfelt breeze. Mailboxes, streetlamps, graffiti and posters on the walls; all an echo of normalcy to misguide the mind into thinking that this place could possibly be real. Eerily tranquil in her silence, she is a sea of gray air and blurred shapes. Non-threatening, but disconcerting as if imagined danger were lurking on the outskirts of your vision, or, perhaps, your mind.
She is a normal town, save for the abandoned streets and unseasonal blanket of insidious fog. Any truly gruesome abnormalities can be explained away if you try hard enough. That isn't blood you see streaked across the asphalt, it is paint. Or, if it is blood, someone is wounded and needs your help. Either way, will you investigate? Will you face the reality? Of course not. Denial is her camouflage.
Darkness falls, and she shows her true colors.
Blood. Rust. Terror.
That is all the town feels like once darkness sweeps across her. You can smell it on the foggy air. You can see it in the cracked and broken streets. Read it on the blood stained peeling walls. Feel it on the grimy rust encrusted grating that lines the streets, guiding you to her decrepit heart. Decay and neglect reflects on everything that was simply unused just moments before. This is no normal town. This is a corroded shell of what used to be paradise. This is a desecrated holy ground, forever stained by human suffering and malice. That is all it ever can be. That is all it ever wanted to be.
Twisted representations, of what the human mind can only comprehend as demons, stalk the corridors of rotting buildings, hoping to ensnare and devour the next mind that conjures them. Perverted and mutated wishes and fears given life, given reality in the ever present gloom.
That is the power of Silent Hill.
She is a death trap. She is a savior. She fulfills your greatest wishes from the darkest parts of your mind and soul. She always gives you exactly what you want, but not what you always bargain for. Those who find themselves on her quiet streets are fated to be there by their own dark desires. She calls to them and they come.
And once you touch that darkness, that long hidden wish in your guilty or repentant or exalted or frenzied or tortured heart, Silent Hill and all her horrors are with you forever.
After all, you can't run away from yourself.
Heed the Siren's call.
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I love Silent Hill so much! She is a siren to me! I would never ever want to find myself there, though! Saucy, capricious, soul nomming wench that she is!!