With a single splash the crisp silence was shattered. The silver faucet bronzing with rust of all shades of brown let free of the water that was pushing past the metal dam that twisted tight; two knobs on each side, each containing not a difference in temperature. The water, with a metallic tang as visible as oil in water, bobbed up and down on the faucet, dancing in the darkness in consecutive movements, motions of a flower petal in the wind, dropped and with a burst of sound hit a growing patch of sickly yellowing rust; the water would held in the growth of that yellow fungus. A brother quickly formed in the place of the fallen drop of liquid and seemed to bob longer and slower; it matched the sweat drizzling down on-looking flesh. It matched patterns, mirroring each other, as both fell silently together. Water dropped into thin air, splashing over rust, some remained and coated the slowly growing fungus while the rest ran down the drain to be recycled; like in a game of 'Chutes and Ladders' or going down a slide and taking turns in a school yard.

The sweat ran down a pale cheek and swam over the chin before tickling down the neck. Each, perspiration and irrigate, were traveling downward to some unknown escape, only one making it to get a second chance. A hand, cold with sweat, came down over the trail of sweat. Wiping it away, the hand brushed down the face and neck before mirroring the other on the edge of an off white sink. Tired eyes closed as another drip echoed throughout the small enclosed room. A sigh escaping thin, stern, lips as joints and muscles were given this small, quiet, moment to relax.

James looked at himself, looked deep into his own eyes, deep into his own soul. He looked for closure, to some knowledge of recent events. He wanted to know the truth. But old broken mirrors aren't good for asking, they only reflect our questions back at us with an extra added layer of confusion.

James let his hands slip from the sink and fall to his side. His head ached from the force of thoughts, force of unobtainable reality and justice. His eyes rolled into his head as his neck arched back. James rolled his shoulders giving another sigh, although this time it was in defeat. No longer would he look into the mirror, it was too much. His eyelids opened and the sight of the rusting walls and floor of the old abandoned bathroom told himself that this wasn't a dream. He was here for a reason. Head low, eyes on the floor, James sulked to the entrance as the reason to his bathroom trip perked itself into his mind again, tearing at healing emotional wounds and scars. The reason he was forced to pull over before becoming ill from the site of that letter, the reawakening of silent voices. Voices he had erased to help ease the pain. Pain of loss. Pain of suffering.

His feet led him to a stone railing next to the remote bathroom. The bathroom seemed worse from the outside then on the inside. Papers and poster were pinned to the upper wall, moist from the incoming fog and ruined from when it would rain. They seemed to have been there for years, untouched. A It overlooked the forest, a dense fog had crept in and over the tops of the lush trees since his arrival. It was a way of welcome, he figured. Welcome home, welcome back, Welcome… to Silent Hill. Of course, James wasn't in Silent Hill directly yet, he was a ways off. The road was blocked off, which meant he wouldn't be driving, he would have to walk to get there.

James leaned on the railing, it had been along day. He was sure night would be drawing in in a few hours, but that thought only lasted on the tip of his mind for a few seconds before disappearing from all interest. Again, the spark on his mind was that damn letter. Head hung low, eyes unfocused, his hand reached under the folds of his olive green jacket. Fingers fiddled around until they reached what they were after. Paper crinkled as it was pulled from its hiding spot. The letter.

The envelope was folded in half, to make it easier to stick within the hidden pocket that was sewn on the inside of the jacket. From the backside, you could easily see the tears, it appeared as if a rabid dog had gotten a hold of it; tearing with desperation, fear, and confusion. On the front was a name, written in black ink with gentle ease and seemed full of both sadness and happiness at the very same time. The name read 'Mary'.

Unfolding the envelope, James took out the delicately folded piece of paper that lay inside. The letter was folded over itself three times and the ink had began to splotch through on letters from words, as if a hand was pressed a bit too hard when writing things that maybe caused a stir of emotion within that person.

James unfolded the letter, and instantly as his eyes met with the first word of the paper, it was almost as if he could hear her speaking. Hear her reading the letter aloud, her voice was so fresh in his mind; almost as if she were right beside him.

"In my restless dreams, I see that town.

Silent Hill.

You promised you'd take me there again someday.

But, you never did.

Well, I'm alone there now…

In our 'Special Place'…

Waiting for you…"

What this letter was indicating was ridiculous. There was no way, no such was possible Mary could have wrote that letter. She was dead. Dead, and gone… the disease saw to that. First it just made her weak,

"I thought it was just a cold…"

Then it slowly ate away at her health until she was unable to leave from her bed.

James pushed himself off the stone perch, pushed himself away from those horrible memories. His eyes landed upon the cool sea blue car he had parked not fifteen minutes ago. The driver's side door wide open, as he had made a desperate run to the bathroom to avoid leaving bile on the seat and steering wheel. He didn't get sick, not at all… in fact, he had felt much better as soon as he set foot outside of the vehicle, but something lead him into that dirty stall anyway, lead him to stare at himself full of hatred and pity. He loathed what he felt his mind was doing to him, playing tricks with imaginary words on paper. But no matter how many times he opened and closed his eyes, Mary's words never changed and they never disappeared.

James walked to the drivers seat and sat down, hands on the wheel. He wanted to drive home, forget this nonsense, but something was driving him to find the truth; it's not it would hurt to visit Silent Hill once more, well not physically anyway. James picked up the neatly folded glossy photo-printer paper that sat on the passenger's side. It was a map of the town. He and Mary had picked it up during their time they spent here together, James had stuffed it into one of the compartments of his car and forgot about it; what's to think about, when your wife is dying? Halfway during his trip he had swerved out of the way of some animal and the door had popped open, spilling out it's contents; the map on top, as if a cruel hint to what must be done, where he must go. A cruel hint by another person, God, or maybe himself? He didn't know, didn't care. If Mary was alive, he needed to take a chance, to see her; even just an illusion of her.

Taking in the comfort of the last thing that reminded him of home, he placed the map into his pants pocket and slid off the cool gray leather seat and stood, shutting the door.

"No need in locking it, It's not like anyone is around… Doesn't feel like it matters much anyway…" was the last thought before he began his journey into the town full of past, happy, memories.

James walked sluggishly over to the cleverly crafted stairs, and clambered down them. The path ahead swerved over hills and turned around a lump of the forest. To the right, though, was a steep fall that seemed to lurk down forever, only the trees disproving the silly thought. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, over top of the map, and let his legs do all the work. His mind was jumping at him sharply, but he pushed all thoughts away, trying to keep a clear conscience and train of thought.

A noise caused his joints to snap tight, halting his determination and pace. It had came from his left, in the bed of the small forest coated with smoky fog. It sounded close, as if some type of animal or… person was watching him, intently, from behind the shrubs or from behind the small bushy tree leaves. But there was no movement, no motion, nothing; nothing to prove something was there, only to prove he was a bit too stressed out. That once ear deafening silence had returned, not a single chirp of a cricket or bird, nor the wisp of the wind or the rustle of leaves. Dead silence thickened in the air, it burned James's ears.

His head rose, and he looked down the path he was walking. It felt like an eternity since he first took the last step off the stairs that led down here. He looked behind him, nothing. He could no longer see were he had parked his car, or the small bathroom, only the empty endless falling of darkness to the right, and the foggy odd enticing forest to his left. Nothing, nothing, nothing. There was no turning back now, and for what reason did he have to run back to his home? None.

A lonely well sat before him, next to the darkness on the right. The darkness was beginning to fade and only that of another damp forest rose up, as if to reach for the light in the midst of the shadows. James walked up to it, a strange sense of calling from it. The pail was up and tied so not to fall down. He lay his hands upon the gray stone and black caulking, taking in the feeling sensation of dirt and noticing the cracks and bumps with his finger prints. He carefully leaned his body over the mouth of the well, peering down into it's depths. Into the depths of reality, into the depths of his mind. The water was muddy and murky, he could see that with the help of the illuminating fog over head; although it did hold the sun back from shining high. Inside, something glowed with an immense brightness, with immense evil and memory. It was glowing, the tainted red paper, in the water. Glowing like light's reflection.

It wasn't blood stained. Far too bright for that. James let his body reel down a bit more, for a closer look. And at that very instant he held his body still, his halting stop, his mind ached. It pounded against his skull. One head, instantly on a reboundish reaction, snapped forth unto his forehead, trying to grasp the pain and pluck from it's resting hold. The other gripped tighter to the caulking of the well, and pushed himself backwards, almost falling amongst the dirt path. His olive green jacket whipped wildly, as his feet stepped back, both hands now perched on his head. His hair was pushed, and pulled back in one furious attempt to dull the ache. A memory longed to sprout again from the seeds it was planted. Deep within the mind it had been placed, never to grow in the darkest location.

The headache faded fast, now that the paper was out of sight. James's hands fell to his side and his head bobbed back in relief. The shock of this was amazing, what was all that? Why would paper cause him to grow such a migraine?

"What the hell… was that?" Was unknowingly spoken out by him, to no one, not even himself.

"Mary… are you really, alive?" It was like his mind couldn't except the letter and so it kept him asking over and over again.

His feet soon guided him out of the limbo he had crossed and too a metal gate, where the fog seemed at worst behind. It looked like a graveyard, as gray stumps picked their way above the white clouds that covered the Earth. Something inside moved. It stood and walked, and then leaned under the thick white bucket of soggy fluff. The figure seemed like the stain on white fabric, standing out almost too much.

The gate did creak at all when he opened it, not at all like he imagined would be in this horror flick. He stepped forward into the fog, it spreading like servants would for a master or king, it spread outward and let him inside in. His eyes were locked onto this figure, as it once again stood and moved and crouched again. James approached it, noticing the pale off-white sweater and dark red jean fabric like pants covering all skin. Black, slightly greasy hair fell over the figure's shoulders and bounced in the silent air in front.

The figure turned it's head to look more clearly at the headstone that perched up in front of her. Female, it was a woman. James walked quicker up to her, all suspicions fading, what was he so afraid of anyway?

"Excuse me?" He said, tilting his head, letting his feet stop when she shrieked, his heart leaped from his chest in a rebound fear, he hadn't expected her to scream out like that. She backed from him, cowered until she saw who it was.

"Oh, I'm… I'm sorry! I was only, I was just-" She began to mumble in embarrassing tones. She, apologizing from her jumpy attitude at him but he cut her off with his own.

"No, it's okay. I didn't mean to scare you, Sorry about that." James said, wanting the end the fear that twisted into a knot in the once strange serenity of this place. Even with it being a graveyard there was a queer sense of pure peace, until the peace was lost in her cry for help, of fear.

"I'm kind of lost, is this the right way to… Silent Hill?" He pointed towards where the other gate was, aside from the one he entered. It was crystal clear, sparkling there in the moister left by the fog. He looked down, but quickly back up to her. He could no longer see passed her, nor above her. The two of them now seemed to be infixed within the bowls of a cube surrounded by a dying fire, smothered by the contents of a fire extinguisher… but the area, it felt hot. His flesh burned, and his face winced for a moment, until the pain quickly subsided.

"Lost?" She, the only other human he had seen since the road's exit, stood in front of him, confused by how he meant to be lost. You just couldn't be lost here, there was only one way from the graveyard to the town, and another that led back the way James had come. She snapped from the daze and put her hands hard against her thighs, as if that same sensation was effecting her now although long gone. Her face didn't make any movement to indicate pain.

"Uh… yeah. It's hard to see with this fog, but there is only one road. You can't miss it." She recovered, and fast as if everything he had just witnessed was again his imagination, just a vivid dream of what could never become reality. He quickly matched her recovery in a shun, quickly saying a low tone of 'Thank you' before turning and walking away. He didn't even say goodbye, or ask her name. All that mattered to him was getting in and out of Silent Hill with Mary by his side. That was, if she was actually there.

"But…" She spoke up, only giving him about a foot's worth of movement before turning around and answering her with a 'Yes…?'

A warning, the first of many. The first clue of the evil that would soon unfold.

"I think you'd better stay away." She looked down from his gaze, which was deeply penetrating hers, trying to find answers and truth.

"This… uh… th-this town, there is something very wrong with it." She stuttered, using her hands in both explanation and distraction.

"I'm not sure how to explain… but…" Quickly cut off, she silenced. Wrong? What could be wrong with a town…? Maybe something happened to it, since the vacation he spent here with Mary, something dangerous and deviant.

"Is it dangerous?" James was almost cut off as quickly as he had done to the female in front of him.

"Maybe… and it's just not he fog either. It-" James head shook up and down in a fast paced understanding that sent off a cold meaning. He waved his hand up at her, as if signaling her to stop. Rude, and unable to listen to reason, he just wanted to finish this.

"Okay, I understand. I'll be careful." And just with that, James turned from her, once again giving her his shoulder, the cold shoulder, and trying to walk away from her. It was like talking with a person you never liked, but they considered you a friend, and in a desperate attempt to get away, end the conversation and bud a new interest in something else. That's what James was doing, whether he realized it or not, that's how he was making this poor girl feel; both unimportant and a liar.

"I'm not lying…" She wanted to bend down, shut him away. She was used to it, but it hurt so much.

"I believe you, It's… it's just, I really don't care, if it's dangerous or not. I'm going to town. I'm looking for someone, very special to me."

It was the first time he had ever spoken with another person in a long time, and in that conversation he was going on about insanity and impossible things. Still she respected him, and shared some pain of what he felt. James clasped his head as the headache began to resurface.

"I'd do anything if I could be with her again." James spoke softer, squeezing his forehead.

"Me too, I'm looking for my mama… I mean, my mother." So quick to correct herself, when there was no need to. Mama and mother was the same. Sure 'mama' was a bit childish way, more for a kid to say, but it was nothing to correct one's self over. He ignored it, not wanting to cause her more embarrassment, not really caring.

"It's been so long since I've seen her. I thought my brother and my father were here, but I can't find them anywhere," She walked away from him this time, lost in her thoughts, her own darkness and dim light. Fighting the truth with false answers.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's not your problem."

"No, I hope you find them." And with that, he officially walked away from her, leaving her to fade in the fog. The squeak of her voice echoed in the large confined area. She spoke sorrowfully, as if she had finally remembered something terrible. That James's very presence had caused the shock of some horrible fixation to ware off into utter horror and sadness. Something she fought against once again. The black haired girl was here for a reason, her family was here, she knew it and they would live together, happily.

That's what James had told himself, without understanding it was a view towards himself. That he would find his late wife and they could finally settle down and start a family. End this nightmare, end the truth for another, happier existence.