Silent Hill: Dreams and Addictions.
I have been writing for a while, but this is my first fan fiction. It is based on the events after the end of the movie "Requiem For A Dream", and crosses over with the horror game, Silent Hill. A a fair warning, there is one or two racist slur in the beginning of the story. But that's just how Requiem ended. I'm trying my best to keep it loyal to the book/movie/games so don't be offended.
Enjoy.
Chapter One.
A Church. Lonely, almost forsaken.
"So the time has come?"
"It seems so."
"Good. So then we need a vessel."
"We already have one, or rather tracked him down."
"You said him, Laura; the Final Ascension requires a female vessel."
"And that's where Claudia failed with Alessa. Trust me Father Micah, have faith in your older sister.
"What are you planning to do with a male vessel, Laura? He won't be able to birth our Goddess! I can't al-
"You question me? I put my money and my time into bringing back The Order for a reason. And it wasn't to be questioned by a lowly valtiel sect priest. Find him, and our dream will come true, Father Micah."
"Forgive me. I stepped out of line…"
"Despite our rank differences, Micah, you're still my brother. I trust you can find him."
"And I cherish that trust. What is the first sign?"
"Imprisonment."
"Then the first step In the Ascension begins. Finally humanity will—
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"WAKE UP,
BOY!"
Tyrone's head seemed to spin as he jolted up from his
dream. Unreality became reality. The church was gone, and the prison
walls surrounded him once again.
"Todays ya lucky day, gets ya shit and lets go!" The prison guard barked. The son of a bitch seemed to always yell. Officer Vernon. Even his name seemed racist. But today Tyrone wasn't bothered by it.
Today, he was a free man.
"One white muscle shirt, One pair of blue jeans, one red hooded sweater, one pocket knife, one leather wallet containing a New York state I.D., Kroger preferred card, and your Social Security card. You shouldn't be carry them around with ya, lose em' and some alien could have your bank account in less n' a week..." Vernon went on to tell Tyrone about how the Mexicans are eventually gonna steal everyone's Identity, and real Americans will be deported to Mexico. Tyrone didn't know why Vernon was telling him this; he hated black folk just as much. Then a realization hit him.
"Yeah sure whateva, I had over 600 worth in bread in that wallet when I came in heah, where's it now, huh?" That coulda been six hundred in pure uncut beauty if Jim didn't blow his arm out. Stupid mutha fucka.
"Take your bitching outta here. I'm getting pretty tired of lookin at you, New York dope fiends like you make me sick." Vernon called the large guard (they called him Tiny, how original) near the barred doors, which lead to the main hall, which then led to the gates. "Escort the convict out, please, before he makes me lose my lunch." Vernon always spewed shit like that. Ty couldn't resist.
"Say man, how you have lunch when it's only seven in the mornin'? If everyone jus' ate on your time we all be rolly. Kinda like you is."
Before Tyrone could finish the breathe he used to say that sentence, Tiny had already restrained his arms and Vernon was already about to throw his first punch. The sound of fist hitting flesh echoed through out the large room, where convicts were checked out before the first ray of sunlight hit the top of their heads.
Two blows to
the stomach and one to the side of the head, Ty got of easy compared
to past beatings. Eventually he had learned how to avoid punishments
like that, but the unavoidable ones came when the guards just wanted
to "have a little party", as they called it.
"Listen here,
rat. You might just be out there for a little while, but I know how
your kind is. Once a dope fiend, always a dope fiend. You make me
sick, nigga. If I see you in my state again, I'll kill you. Tiny
get him outta here before I boot him out myself. " Vernon's
little speech was nothing Ty had not heard before. Something along
those lines was always screamed at him and his fellow jail mates as
the days labor was being done. Its funny, Ty wasn't sure if it was
because it was the South, but nearly everyone in that jail, was
black. About 60 whites out of 1500 prisoners. All Ty knew, as Tiny
dragged him out, was that the South was a place he would never return
to again.
