I

The dark clouds above blocked out all the light and replaced it with sheets of pouring rain. As time progressed, the storm only got worse, eventually driving away all into their homes. All but one. But then again, he had no home.

Despite the barrage of rain, the man still continued down the winding road. Each step left its imprint on the ground, now reduced to mud. But the rain was coming down so hard that every time he lifted up his boots, the mud they carried with them was washed away. Thus, he paid no heed to it.

He was a strange sight to see, and not just because he was out in this horrid weather. He would've still been strange, maybe even stranger, in broad daylight. Clad mainly in loose silk clothing, with a trailing cloak and scarf, he was a strange sight indeed. The gloves and boots he bore were imprinted with a miniature of his family crest, a pair of skeletal wings coming from a grinning skull. He also covered his emotionless eyes with round-rimmed glasses, with a wide-brimmed traveler's hat completing the hiding of his face. All of these were pitch black. His hair went a bit below his shoulders, and was a complete white, with no color whatsoever.

His belt was nothing more than another piece of silk, used primarily to hold his weapons in place. Across it, he had placed four flintlock pistols in the back, a long, thin bladed rapier on his left, and a small dirk on his right. He carried not the appearance of a fighter, but appearances are often misleading.

As he walked with his calm gait, as if it was perfectly clear out, a familiar sight made itself visible. A plain carriage, drawn by two rather small horses. The driver was, of course, outside in the miserable rain, but an overhang protected him. It didn't look like it was doing a good job.

The man then noticed the window built into the side. It was not covered. A brilliant face radiantly shone from inside. A face which bore the happiness only a young woman could experience. For a brief second, while he was looking through it, she returned his gaze. He simply turned, his eyes still not in need of his glasses.

Suddenly the door opened and the woman appeared. "You must be soaking wet. How do you stand it?"

The man responded, "I've been in worse," not even facing here.

"Well, would you like to come in here, where it's dry?"

At this, two voices cried in protest. "Come on, honey, why would you want him in here? Look at him! He's a freak!" A young man's voice.

"You know, dear, he's right. Just look at the way he dresses! And who would walk out in this terrible weather? It's bad enough with the door open! Please close it." Only an old woman could have such an irritating voice. But the young woman did not obey.

Come on mister. We won't mind!"

"Yes, we most certainly would!" Both voices that time. Then one. The old woman. "Come on, Melissa dear, we mustn't keep Sarah and Gregory Rasth, or whatever his name is waiting."

At that, the strange man faced the carriage. "What did you say?"

"Huh? Oh yeah." The young woman, Melissa. "We're going to visit my sister and this new man she met, Gregory Rasth."

The strange man then clenched his fists and said, "I guess I can sit with the driver."

When he said this, Melissa pouted, and asked, "Why won't you sit in here?"

But the old woman scolded, "He's already agreed to come! Just let him sit with the driver! And close that door, for heaven's sake!" Sighing, Melissa closed it as the strange man climbed into the driver's seat.

When he climbed in, the driver shouted to the horses and the carriage started rolling again. The driver then asked him, "So, stranger, what's your name? Mine's George."

"Joseph Guillaume," was the answer. He then asked himself, "So, where are we going?"

"We're going to a newly discovered colony. It's called Silent Hill."

Joseph then faced forward, and, tilting his hat so that it covered his face, he fell asleep, despite the pouring rain.