Well, I got enough reviews to decide to make this story for real. Here's a link to the original story: .net/s/4179239/1/Harrys_Death

I hope you like it. PLEASE LEAVE REVIEWS! I practically LIVE off of them!

Chapter 1: Visions

"I like this one, Dad."

Harry Mason snapped out of his trance, his daughter calling to him. He returned to the lovely blonde woman feeling the hem of a dark green skirt in the sale department.

She's growing up…Harry thought to himself, staring at the creature he had once known as Cheryl.

"If you want it, I'll pay for it," Harry remarked, his mind elsewhere.

"Really Dad! You're the best!"

And so they continued to the checkout counter, Heather's dark green skirt in tow.

"Will that be all, Mr. Smith?" asked a young black man behind the counter.

"Yes," replied Harry. The mention of his alias, John Smith, so obviously false and yet so obviously not, made him wince. He and his daughter had been in hiding since 1998, when he brought home the girl from what he told the curious girl was the hospital, but was really the sleepy town of Silent Hill.

Heather placed her chin upon her father's shoulder, her hot breath sliding over his cheek like warm air. "So, now what?" she asked.

"Well, I'm hungry, what'cha in the mood for?" Harry replied in befuddling teenage slang.

"How about….." Heather paused for a moment, pretending to think, "Happy Burger."

Harry agreed reluctantly, memories of past ulcers returning to his mind.

Harry Mason would never drive a jeep again in his life. Ever. He would pick this coughing, wheezing, piece-of-junk van over his smooth, well-driving jeep any day. He never wanted to set foot in it again. It smelled like blood inside there and quite frankly, it stirred up bad images.

So here he was, pulling into Happy Burger, flinching as the van rumbled into the nearest parking spot, afraid it would break down again.

They finally halted and Harry pulled the keys out. "Heather, could you help me out?"

They had parked in a handicap zone, too. Harry mason, a once proud, fit young man had aged considerably. He now had to walk with a cane, his left leg all but immobile since a car accident three years ago. His faced now sagged a bit more, and his eyelids were heavy with age and fatigue. He was 49 years old, and it showed.

Heather helped her father out of the car, careful not to trip him when she pulled him from the chassis. "Thanks, Heather," wheezed an out of breath Harry.

They both walked into the restaurant, hungry and full with cash. Harry didn't dare use a credit card, for then he would be asking for trouble.

They both ordered burgers and sat down to eat. "So, Dad, how's it been going lately?" she asked.

"Oh, the usual. I haven't written anything in months and we're pretty much out of money."

"The papers should be fighting over your stories! I mean, you're the best writer I've ever seen!"

"If only it were that simple, Heather…"

"I'll tell you what, today, we're going out. After I come home, you and I are going to go somewhere on vacation. I'll take you to Disney World or something-"

"Dad, I'm too old for Disney World."

"Anywhere. I just want us to be together."

Heather thought for a moment. A devious grin slid across her face. "Okay, let's do it."

It is often noted when quoting the Smith Murders about the events leading up to his death the morning of October 12th. To the public, they were a happy, single-parent family. The following is what little is known about that morning. Harry and Heather Smith slid into the leather seats of his van at about 1:12 P.M. Revving up the engine, Harry received a rather horrifying scare and drove off in a panic. What he saw exactly was never known, but police officers found his body in his home three days later, a huge hole through his chest, and his daughter missing. Heather went missing days later and wasn't seen again. Officers place her in the small town of Ashfield, but this has been discredited. This is what the police knew, but what they didn't know was the terrifying secret of Silent Hill that lurked within Harry's past. This is his story…

Harry Mason almost screamed when he saw it. He and Heather had climbed into the car and were putting there seatbelts on when he found his eyes drawn to the rearview mirror. In it was the form of a little girl with stringy, greasy black hair and a dirty school uniform. Harry recognized her as soon as he saw her as well. He was looking at the reincarnated Alessa Gillespie.

Horrified, he clasped his hand around his cane, ready to fight back if necessary, and the thought of swinging a hefty pipe into the bandaged head of a nurse resurfacing.

Harry quickly spun, hoping against hope it was just a tree or something that he had mistaken for a girl.

But there was nothing but a dry patch of grass. No tree, no girl. Harry turned to the wheel. Was he delusional?

What has gotten into you, Harold? He thought to himself, his mother's voice coming to mind.

"Dad, what's wrong?" Heather's voice broke through his thoughts. He stole a glance at himself in the window. No wonder she was worried. He was deathly pale and shaking from head to toe. He looked like he was dying.

"I'm fine, sweetie. Just, a little shaken up, that's all. I guess I shouldn't have eaten that burger, huh?"

"Heartburn or ulcer?"

"A little of both," Harry laughed.

Heather smiled nervously and they started for home, the bumpy ride churning his tightened stomach.

The mall was not very crowded when Harry arrived and the few people he did see were probably meeting for dates or Halloween shopping.

"Heather," Harry spoke as his daughter climbed out of the car, "Remember our deal. We're gone when I get home."

"Don't pack without me!" Heather called back, already halfway into the mall.

Harry smiled. He hoped she would be okay. Quickly, he scanned the outer mall. No Alessa. Good, maybe he was just going crazy.

That's a good thing? He asked himself. He frowned. By the entrance was a woman with bleach-blonde hair. It looked more like bleach. She seemed odd, somehow. Harry was a writer, and the only word he could find to describe her was suspicious. Her eyes darted from side to side almost as if she was afraid someone would jump out of the shadows at her. Then her eyes settled on something more apparent: Him.

Is she looking at ME? Harry seemed to stare holes through the woman because she tore her eyes away and hurried into the nearest taxi cab, a cloaked figure nearly two feet taller climbing in the other side.

I'm seeing all kinds of weird shit today.

Harry Mason turned on his engine and drove away, a thick fog descending over the town.

So, yeah, I'm adding on to the original and I hope you like it. It isn't exactly the best story in the world, but it gets the job done. Anyways, the next chapter will be longer. It will include rewritten sections from the original. Please leave reviews!

Thank you.