Silent Hill 2014 edition

James slowly drove his car into the fog and passed by the silent hill sign. Parking his car in the parking lot, he got out and walked to the restroom that some drunk architect wanted to build for no reason.

However, the second he opened the door, his eyelids peeled back as a smell that could KO a grandma hit him.

"Jesus fuck, what the Christ," James yelled having to step back. Whatever in sweet Virgin Mary's name was emitting from that, James was not about to find out so instead of monologging to himself in the mirror, he continued on down the stairs. He remembered the letter that came in the mail with nothing but some letter and a picture of a hot ass piece of work. At first he thought it was some dating website profiler because, hey, when your wife's dead, why not, but then he remembered that was his wife.

He read the note aloud to himself several times making sure he wasn't high. A note from his wife. His DEAD wife. His wife that decayed like a sack of meat in the summer sun (they smelled the same).

But he left the house to go to Silent Hill anyways because he was either going to find a.)His wife, b.)Some dumbass kid who played a prank and'll get their ass beat, or c.)That sweet amusement park with the cotton candy that made him gain 10 pounds.

Now, he was here, trailing down some mile-long, raunchy dirt road in his new Jordans.

"I swear to god, if this bitch ain't here, that life insurance is going in a stripper's g-string on the way home."

Immerse in his plans, James walked into a gate.

"The fuck," he asked, cupping his nose. The iron barred door was unlocked so James pushed through (there was no other way around so whatever).

As much as he wanted to go through as quickly as possible, he couldn't help stopping at a graveyard. In the middle was some figure in the fog.

"Yo, who's there?" It jumped. (what a pansy) Getting closer, the figure became a girl. Sadly, it was some paste-y white emo-lookin chick twiddling her thumbs. Probably here to write depressive poetry and make sacrifices or something. Whatever, James wasn't interested in the least. If anything, he tried to go around her and blend into the fog. However, when she saw him avoid and ignore her, she spoke out.

"Momma? Momma is that you?" Oh dear god. This girl is probably riding the crazy train. Just keep walking. Pretend she isn't talking. "Momma! It's me Angela! Brother and dad aren't back yet! Where are you going?" She started twitching and smiling and stepped forward.

At this point James broke out into a sprint because he was having none of that today. He's had his share of crazy women and lets just say that a fork to the thigh reminds him daily to stay clear of those.

Luckily, that new work out routine kept his stamina and his buns fine because he was blocks away and in the town. It looked like a mall after Black Friday. Every window was cracked or in pieces on the ground. Cars are torn apart and left in scraps. Not a single cop on the streets. (figures)

James jogged down endless, useless roads because damn, its been three years, how was he supposed to remember anything? He swears women have like an endless database of memory just to catch him slippin with birthdays and anniversaries. It isn't even human what they remember, James can't even remember what he had for breakfast this morning and hes expected to know where this place is. He went there ONCE. Is she SERIOUS.

It was sometime before anything happened so the blonde began singing showtunes. It would have been a good idea to bring his ipod.

"My anaconda don't want none unless you got BUNS HU- *SPLAT*-UEGH, WHAT WAS THAT"

Beneath James ruined shoe was a red trail of blood splattered on the road. Crouching down, the fermenting but still wet crimson was obviously fresh. And from where the trail led, a figure sauntered about like a drunk douchebag.

James has been around the hood in his day (west coast represent) so the blood didn't have him screaming like a little girl. Instead, he pressed forward and ignored it. Because now, ontop of finding his wife, he had to find some shoe polish quick.

Everything was still old, dusty and foggy and James had to circle around several times until he finally heard something. It sounded like static. But wait.

Static meant tv

Tv meant people

People meant info

And with that James jogged down the road. All this cardio was enough to make him a marathon runner. Sweat soaked into the heavy ass puke green jacket he wore. The static became louder but the closer he ran, the farther away he got from buildings that would have tvs in them. The end actually came when he stopped at a blocked off caution entrance.

"Damn it!" James yelled. He passed through one of the loosely set boards cursing to himself. This way would lead him somewhere new and at least let him find out where the static was coming from.

There, on a dirty box was a dumb little 80s radio, creating a storm of static. James went or and picked it up in an attempt to turn it off. Turns out the power button was switched off and with closer examination, the radio had no batteries, yet it was in a full screech of static.

It's sound became even louder for some reason, almost completely sheilding the rustling sound that was in the shadows. It took a second for James to even realize the mass that was twitching and standing up behind him.