Chapter 1- An Unexpected Letter
It was crudely drawn . . . the work of a child. The stick figures in the picture held hands and smiled. It had been a long time since I smiled like that. The taller male figure represented me and was labeled "Nathan" while the smaller female figure was labeled "Molly". There was also a four legged figure that sat beside them with the name "Ralph" written above him. The figures stood in front of a small blue house, flowers growing, sun shinning.
In reality today looked nothing like it did in this picture. I was alone. Alone and on my way back to the town I wanted to forget. The rain was coming down in sheets and I had to drive carefully to avoid running off the road. The drawing lay on the dashboard of my car. I had received it in the mail a few days ago. I hardly ever get mail except for bills, so it was no surprise that this was unexpected, but what made it even more unusual was that it came from my old address in Silent Hill and was sent by my sister. Molly Harper, my sister, had died one year earlier when our house burned down. I was alone in the world now. Our parents had died five years earlier in a car crash and I was left to raise Molly on my own. They never found out the cause of the fire and I'm not sure they really cared. It was one less poor family to deal with and I was left to pick up the pieces of my broken life and try to move on. I thought I was doing just that, but then this letter came and I broke down again. It just didn't make sense! How could I receive mail from from someone I had seen taking their last breaths?
I picked up the picture again and looked at it for what seemed like the millionth time. If it had only been the drawing, however strange getting it had been, I would have pushed it from my mind. It was what was written on the back that had forced its way into my every waking thought. "Where did you go, Nathan?". It was written with a crayon and I recognized it as my sister's handwriting. Those five words were the reason I was driving back to what was left of my old house . . . to put to rest the thought that had been creeping into my mind. What if I was wrong? What if . . . somehow . . . Molly was still alive?