You might have seen I not so long ago submitted a piece under the same name, this is a total rewrite of that, deftly and carefully thought out over a couple of days so I'm hoping since I've gone over it a few times its a bit better than last time. Honestly writing this was a bit weird because I had a little mental block when I first started writing so I actually wrote the middle and end before I wrote the beginning, you might notice a sort of break, I dunno. I'm in the middle of writing chapter 2 (as you might expect) so any input at all would be welcomed, I don't mind about you leaving reviews, message me, mail me, whatever medium suits you best, like a yappy little dog that clings to your leg (not in that way) I just demand attention regardless of medium.
As for updates I'm adamant that I'll see this one through to the end, but as I'll be attending University later in September so they might be sparse or shorter than this, in the interest of maintaining quality (which is probably unintentionally funnier than anything I've said thus far) but they will arrive eventually, probably as soon as I get a holiday.
Disclaimer: I own neither Silent Hill, any of its characters, locations, mythologies or storyline which are the exclusive property of their registered owners.
Too bad for me, maybe I could've stopped that film from being made, lets hope they get it right the second time.
Silent Hill: Death Becomes Him
Chapter One
Something underneath him, soft, a bed, little lumpy. Something on his hands, something flaking as he rubbed his fingers together, what was it? Opening his eyes he was met with a drop of blood striking him right between the eyes, from the ceiling, on the walls. Blood. All bloody, even the sheets he was lay spread eagled on, the dried flecks between his fingers, blood everywhere. He sprang up, he would have backed against the wall but for it being covered in blood, what was going on, what had happened? His breathing was laboured, all he wanted to do was wretch, he tried to compose himself, he failed. His hands scrabbled over the door handle, finally finding a purchase as he flung himself out into the equally bloody corridor, he struck the wall, blood coating his face and he staggered backward.
Crashing to his knees he couldn't hold his bowels any longer and vomited their contents onto the blood encrusted carpet. He staggered down the corridor with his head bowed, it was a nightmare, it had to be a nightmare, it couldn't be real. He saw one of the doors ahead of him burst open, he ducked into a bathroom, terrified, acting on instinct alone. He pressed his whole weight against the inside of the door and remained curled up at its base. As hulking heavy footsteps made their way down the hall he winced with each footfall. They paused, right outside the door, he could hear a heavy breathing followed by a low growl. A shadow obscured the thin shaft of light coming through the ill fitted door almost totally, some huge figure lingering outside. Then something hammered against the door, he could do nothing but wrap his arms about his knees and bury his face like a frightened child.
And then... silence.
Slowly he raised his eyes, no blood. No smell, sight or splatter of anything even resembling blood in the dilapidated bathroom.
Slowly he stood, sliding his back up the door before looking to his hands, no blood. He rushed to the nearest sink, looked in the mirror at his face and clothes, no blood. Not a fleck of blood from his brown neck legnth locks to his brown leather jack, the unmarred white of his t-shirt and black jeans, not even on the black shoes which he knew had trekked through that gory corridor. He finally managed to reign in his breathing and a flush of pink returned to the face turned blanket white with terror.
He looked down at his hands again, clean, he turned the water on and splashed his hands in the cold stream before splashing some water on his face. He raised his head slowly, staring at the reflection in the mirror that he barely recognised, the almost gaunt cheeks and slightly crooked nose which looked as though it had been broken at least once. Lucky him.
His eyes snapped back to the door, he edged towards it, his heartbeat picking up again with every step, he took hold of the handle, softly and slowly. His heart skipped a beat as he yanked open the portal back to that bloodstained hell to reveal, nothing. A similarly unkempt hallway, but nothing at all out of the ordinary. He kept telling himself to get a grip but as he entered the hallway again he couldn't help but fear being set upon by some monstrosity. Nothing came.
He brushed his fingers against the far wall, not believing it for a moment, he peeled the paint in little flecks with his finger nails. Still no blood. He knew he'd seen it, touched it, smelled it. The scent had been so strong he could still taste it in the back of his throat, even thinking about it made him gag. Startled at this bizarre change he stumbled back down the hallway, towards the room where he had awoken.
Clean. Well, not clean, just not covered in blood. He stepped inside, leaving the door open. He looked in the bedside table, a single drawer holding a wallet, his wallet. He didn't know why he recognised it but as he knelt down and stared in to the drawer he knew that this was a part of him. It was all he had to go on anyway, he cradled it like a precious treasure as he lifted it out of the drawer. He perched himself on the edge of the bed and flipped the wallet open.
'Richard... Syme?' He wrapped his tongue around the syllables printed on the driver's license awkwardly, as if only testing them out. He thumbed through the small amount of money inside, barely thirty dollars, enough for gas, enough to get out of town. Then it hit him. 'No car keys.' However he'd gotten here he hadn't driven himself. Searching the room further yielded nothing else, literally nothing else. No clothes, no other documents, no possessions and no keys.
What kind of person checked into a hotel room with just a wallet? What kind of person woke up in a hotel room that was covered in blood?
He... no, Richard... Rick made for the door again and out into the hallway, walking briskly to the end of the corridor because he didn't want to linger too long, he still felt he should be cautious though. He crept down into the lobby, darting his eyes around like a frightened animal, he did indeed feel like he was on the run from something, some predator; something which drew heavy breaths and had heavier footsteps.
There was no one in the lobby, if it could be called a lobby, it was obvious this place was a couple of houses with the walls knocked through, but it didn't feel cheap, it had a sort of homely charm to it. Down a narrow hallway opposite the stairs Rick saw the door, pausing briefly between the two to check no one was in wither of the flanking rooms. No one, he moved to the door and passed out of it into the dense fog.
The door shut behind him with an audible bang, he tried in vain to open it again but he found he couldn't, he descended the little flight of concrete stairs to the street and looked around. He could barely see anything in such fog, he could see a little way but not as far as the other side of the street. He'd never seen fog like it, or he thought he'd never seen fog like it at least, like so many things he just wasn't sure. He started walking, partly to put some distance between him and that room and partially because he'd just realised how damned cold it was.
The fog, something was strange about it, something wrong. Just being in it made him feel hopelessly alone, but at the same time it felt terribly close, clustered. It was almost like the fog was invasive of his space, almost as though it were wrapping invisible fingers around his neck.
Richard crashed to the floor in a heap, struggling to suck the cold, crisp air into his burning lungs. He could still feel the harsh hands about his neck, but there weren't any hands at all, he'd just stopped breathing, like something was trapped in his throat. How would he forget something like that? No, something had gotten to him, something in the fog. Rick raised his head from the pavement to see something in the distance, something he'd longed for since he'd started walking, since he'd woken up.
There was a figure out in the fog, two figures, one tall, one short. Rick sped up to a jog, he could see them quite clearly then, a man accompanied by a small boy, they both had their backs to him, the man dressed in filthy jacket and brown pants, his hidden face framed by filthy long hair. The small boy seemed quite withdrawn, sticking close to the older man's leg as he clung on to him with both his small hands. The both of them turned as if as one, the boy seemingly seeking shelter from Rick's gaze behind his companion. 'Don't be scared.' the older man reassured him as Rick slowed his approach, 'You're safe.'
'Excuse me, hey you!' Rick beckoned as he grew nearer, 'Do you know the way out of town?' he asked as he came close. The man seemed to ponder this for a moment, gazing up through the fog as if he was looking for something, then something seemed to dawn on him as he answered.
'I wouldn't know the quickest way, I'm new in town, but it wont do you much good. I don't think you'll get very far.' Rick was taken aback by this, for a second he wondered if this man could know about the hotel room, the blood, but he pushed these concerns to the back of his mind.
'Still...'
The strange man pointed down the street. 'There's a Church just down there, past that there's the bridge into the centre of town, ask somebody there.'
Rick felt something tug at his jeans and in a second his eyes snapped down to the small boy who had crept out from his hiding place only to withdraw back to his shelter under Rick's anxious gaze. 'S-scuse me Mister,' he stammered, obviously ill at ease, 'have you seen my Mom around here?' The older man glared down at the boy and less than gently shoved him back away behind himself.
'Separation is tough for some children to accept.' Rick cocked his head at this, did that mean his mother was dead? Was this weird, filthy guy all he had for a foster family? 'He'll learn to cope with it eventually. Well, come on little Walter, we'd better get going or we'll be late.' The two clasped their hands again and began walking off into the fog, towards the hotel where Rick had come from.
'Hey!' Rick yelled after them, the strange man turned, a quizzical look gracing his features. 'Thanks!' The man smiled and continued walking. Rick turned in the direction he'd been given and began walking again, a little ambivalent over what he'd just seen, the man had seemed a little over eager to hush the child when the subject of his mother came up. Then again he figured he was in no position to cast suspicions seeing as how he'd woken up in a bloody hotel room only to find it pristine when he opened the door again, which he was fairly sure was indicative that he was losing his grip on reality.
Still, he carried on, it was all he could do, something strange was going on, he could feel it. Or perhaps it was the cold and fog creeping in on him, infecting him right down to his bones and the core of his being, the fog made him uneasy. He couldn't have been walking for long when he saw the Church begin to melt out of the fog, standing below the towering construct he read the sign by the door. Balkan Church, something had been written underneath but had been scratched away, probably the work of petty vandals. It must have been the Church he'd been told about and so he carried on. The fog seemed to thicken as he approached the bridge, Rick could barely see the tip of his nose never mind anything beyond.
Looking down to his feet he noticed the web of cracks in the pavement, and having nothing else to look at in the dense fog he watched his feet, a good thing too as not far ahead he would have taken quite a fatal misstep, with his leg still off the ground he observed the void beneath his foot and raised his eyes, seeing that it extended outward to where the bridge ought to have been. A strong gust of wind struck him from behind and he tettered on the edge, leaning forward and flailing his arms in a desperate attempt to reclaim his balance, as he stepped back from the edge he observed the twisted framework jutting from the waiting waters ahead of him. It seemed that there had been a bridge, maybe that was what the strange man had meant when he said he wouldn't get very far, but he had directed him to the bridge only after saying that.
With a sigh Rick turned away, he'd have to ask someone in the Church if they knew anything, if there was anybody there anyway. As he approached the Church he saw another figure in the mist, clearly this time, a girl, dark haired and wearing some sort of school uniform, pale skinned. She glanced back and their eyes met for a second before she slipped into the Church. Rick knew he needed to ask someone about the bridge, but in truth it was something about this fog which made him feel alone, that was the reason he dashed to the massive wooden doors, he wanted to find someone; so he wouldn't have to be alone any more.
Pushing the door he felt it give a little and then stop, blocked by something inside. Placing his eye to the crack he spoke soft reassuring words to the girl he figured was still inside. 'Hello, you don't have to be afraid,' rich coming from someone in his predicament, 'you can open the door, I won't hurt you.' He wasn't sure at this point who he was trying to convince. 'Hello?'
No answer. Rick stepped away from the door and let it close, sighing heavily again. Stepping around the side of the Church he walked down the side path towards a side entrance, testing the knob he found the door was unlocked it opened inwards with a loud creak as though no one had used it in a while, stepping inside Rick shut the door behind him. It was predictably dark in the Church, hardly any light had pierced the fog outside and graced the hallowed halls, tentatively Rick stepped out among the pews, seeing some piled by the door, blocking all entrance. That and his futile attempts to move them proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that someone was in here and that they were a little stronger than the schoolgirl he'd seen run inside.
Something dropped to the floor behind him, making a soft clink as it hit the polished floor, slowly Rick stepped back from the door and into the central isle seeing a coiled silver chain he approached, warily, checking the pews as he passed before stooping down to pick it up. His heart almost stopped as he felt the dual barrels press against the side of his head and a harsh voice bark: 'Hold it.' at him.
Rick froze, his fingertips only brushing the silver chain, he felt his breathing becoming more erratic as he stood there, petrified. He moved his eyes around in an attempt to see who it was that was threatening him only for them to jam the barrels into his head, roughly pushing his head around so he could see nothing. 'Stand up.' the voice ordered, he did so, they were behind him now. He raised his hands up in the universal gesture for 'don't pump me full of lead, man.'
'Drop it.' the voice ordered,jabbing him in the back with the gun again , having seen what was clutched in his captives right hand. As the little silver crucifix dropped from his hand Rick whirled around, grabbing the gun barrels as he did so, sweeping them aside so the firearm discharged uselessly at the floor, sending polished chips of floor tiles showering across the ground. As Rick swung about he shifted all his momentum into delivering a powerful right elbow to the face of his captor, knocking him to the ground and wrenching the gun from his hands.
He was a dark skinned man, shaved hair with a wider build which still looked as though it had plenty of strength in it. Rick didn't move to train the gun on him, he was too shocked at his own actions. 'Hey, you, you're not one of them.'
Suddenly aware of the burning sensation in his left hand from clutching the hot barrel Rick allowed the gun to clatter to the floor, but stepped between it and the man, clearly interpolating this as an aggressive action the man pushed himself away with his feet across the floor a little, still holding his nose. 'Woah, slow down, friend.'
'You had a gun trained on me!'
'Yeah, sorry. I've been a little jumpy lately, weird stuff going on in this town.' The man clambered up from the floor and offered Rick his hand. 'Wheeler, Jack Wheeler.' Rick didn't take his hand partially because he was still wary of this man and partially because said hand was covered in blood. Wheeler noted this as well and switched hands, Rick still didn't take it.
'Richard Syme.'
'Right, well you're damn lucky you ran into me Richard, Rick, mind if I call you Rick?'
'Sure, why not? I mean you've already threatened me with firearms so why stand on ceremony.'
Wheeler laughed briefly at this little bit of dark humour. Rick noted he was wearing a police uniform, but of a kind Rick hadn't seen before, probably local or from the immediate area. 'Sorry, 'bout that, its just with all the stuff that's going on in this town, things in the fog I gotta be cautious. You break down too?'
Rick paused, what was he supposed to say "no, I woke up in a hotel room from the underside of Hell?" Yeah, right. 'I was... on vacation.' he lied, or at least he assumed it was a lie, he'd been in a hotel after all. Wheeler paused before taking a seat at one of the benches, apparently he didn't quite believe the lie either. 'Say, did a little girl run in here earlier?'
Wheeler looked quite confused, 'No, that way you came in is the only door I haven't blocked off. You're the only one who's come in there.'
Rick looked back over towards the front entrance, 'I thought I saw... never mind.'
'Hey I understand. It's this town, something about it gets to you, you start seeing things that weren't really there and more strange stuff besides, hell if I know what causes it all. Hell if I wanna know what causes it all. So, what's it like out there now, you see anybody else?'
'I saw a strange guy and a kid, then I went to the bridge and... well there wasn't any bridge so I came back here. You don't know the way out of town do you?'
Wheeler gave a short melancholy laughed, hardly a laugh at all. 'If I knew the way out I'd have damn well taken it, no way I'd hang around this nut house if I thought there was a chance of getting out. I tried to go back out to my squad car but the road was... gone, just gone.'
'Gone?'
'Hey, if you don't believe me go out there and see it for yourself, don't be leading anything nasty back in here though, you walk out that door you're not getting back in.' Wheeler seemed to be afraid of something, almost irrationally so, sort of in the same way a child is scared of what's lurking in their wardrobe or under their bed at night. Then again the fog had that air of mystery to it, an oppressive and yet somehow almost passive malevolence which while ethereal managed to completely surround anyone caught out in it. 'Whoever you saw out there are probably all goners now, whatever took everybody else will have probably got to them as well.'
'Taken?'
'Can't you feel it, there's no one out there, we might be the last two people in this town by now. Everything's gone crazy and some thing's taking people out of the picture.'
'But why would anyone want to turn this place into a ghost town?'
'Told you didn't I? I dunno, I don't wanna know, I just wanna get the hell out of here.'
Rick took a seat on the bench opposite Wheeler with his head in his hands, both men seemed to have reached an understanding that neither of them was going to do anything else silly, so the shotgun wasn't a worry to either of them any more. 'I want to go home.' Rick sighed absent-mindedly, he didn't mean for Wheeler to overhear him.
'Tell me about it,' the officer replied, 'I'm not even supposed to be here, my station's in Brahms. Damn punk kids, chased 'em all the way out here, probably long gone now.' Wheeler shook his head, 'Still, damn shame.' The cop stood back up, retrieved his weapon and checked it over for damages, satisfied that it was still in good working order he turned back to Rick. 'There's a First Aid kit in the back, be a pal and go get it for me would you? Then we can take a closer look at that hand.'
Rick stood up and headed towards the back, his foot catching the discarded crucifix and prompting him to pick it up. 'Hey, this yours?' Wheeler immediately came to retrieve the chain.
'Yeah, was my granddaddy's, my grandmother sent it to me when he passed away, kind of a lucky charm... at least it's kept me alive this far.' A warm look crossed Wheeler's face as he regarded the delicate cross dangling from the chain in his hand. 'Just hope it doesn't wear off any time soon.' Rick frowned a little before proceeding further to the back of the Church, something seriously had Wheeler spooked, something other than the fog.
It didn't take long for Rick to find the First Aid box Wheeler kept on the altar, soon Rick had the burn on his palm disinfected and bandaged. 'That's about all I can do for you now, I'm afraid. I'm a little short in here as you can see.' Wheeler again occupied the seat across from him, a general feeling of melancholy had descended on the Church, after a few moments of silence Rick rose and made for the back door. 'Hey, you're not going back out there are you?' Wheeler asked, clearly concerned.
'Don't see that I have much choice.' Rick replied, continuing one towards the door.
'At least stay a while, rest a bit, this might be the last time either of see someone in a while.' Rick conceded at this and in any case he felt unnaturally tired seeing as how he'd not woken up long ago. He lay down on a bench close to the altar, placing both hands behind his head for want of a pillow. 'So, where you from, Rick? Rick?' It was already too late, Wheeler's voice wasn't going to keep him from dropping off and neither was the distant siren. The last thing Rick saw before heading into darkness was a carving of an angel, too bad, he'd never liked angels.
-
Rick shot up from where he'd been lay, adrenaline instantly hammering its way around his body as his heart worked like a piston ready to burst clean out of his chest, burning, the Church was burning. Smoke and ash began to fill up his lungs as he dropped to the floor. 'Wheeler!' he kept yelling between bouts of coughing, no answers came. He crawled out into the central aisle, making for the front door which had been partly cleared, shoving the last bench out the way he made for the door only for a colossal arm to burst through the gap and start trying to pull him through, he could see little beyond the door but a mountain of a figure, eight or nine feet at least looming in the shadows outside. He didn't want to stay in the burning building, but likewise he didn't want to go out to that thing.
Bracing his feet against the door he managed to loosen the strong grip enough so he could pull himself free and slam the door as the hand receded. Falling to the ground he rolled onto his front and there she was, the girl he'd seen run in here in the first place. Standing up he faced her, oblivious to the pounding on the door. 'You. I've seen you. You're the girl from before.'
The girl simply stood and stared at him, she smiled and turned, running towards the back door. He made a move to pursue her but the doors behind him burst open, hands picked him up by the back of his jacket and dragged him backwards, outside, into darkness. Into death.