-Disclaimer: I do not own the Konami franchise of Silent Hill. Though none
of the characters in this story are from past Silent Hills, the game theme
itself is copyright and trademark of Konami and its subsidiaries. Thank
you, and do read and review!-
-- Flashback/Disembodied Voices
----------------------------------------------------
Leon gasped for air as he was hefted into the large red-and-white ambulance, four men in light blue attire staring down at him as if he was wearing a leech on his face. They mumbled among themselves -- at least, Leon heard it as mumbling. It was hard to tell, everything seemed to be muffled, as if he was listening to a conversation through a thick wall.
Leon! LEON, GET AWAY FROM ME!
One of the paramedics grabbed the handles of a defribulator, and began to rub them together. More mumbling, and then the man placed the two pads against Leon's chest. There was a muffled shout of "Clear!", and a hard surge of electricity went through Leon's chest. Why were they shocking him if he was awake, looking up at them all?
N-now, now Leon...let's talk about this!
The paramedic warmed up the defribulator again, but Leon didn't have time to find out what it would feel like to be shocked twice. He was suddenly blown over by a wave of coldness, and was instantly thrown into a coma-like sleep. All of the paramedics knew none the wiser, and were still trying to revive the unconcious and close-to-death Leon Owens.
-----
Dusty light poured in through the hospital window, streaming over Leon's stark white face. He groaned, his eyes fluttering open to the morning sun. The light brushed over his bed and hit against the yellowed wall behind him, the tiles seeming to be old and discolored from time and, in places, some iodine. Slowly, Leon began to stand up, taking time to let out a long, loud yawn. Slowly, he stared around the room, and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "You think they'd keep a hospital from looking so old and mildewy," he said softly as he stood up, having struggled for the words to describe the place he was in.
Taking staggering steps, Leon made his way toward the bathroom, which was hidden behind a door on the left side of the room. Stepping in, he groaned as he situated himself in front and above the toilet, and unzipped his pants' fly.
Finishing his business, Leon groggily slipped back outside the bathroom, letting his eyes get a good look around. The hospital looked nothing like the hospital he had worked at -- the room lay out was totally different, and the room just looked far from kept up. The ceiling, made of drop-in drywall-like material, was cracked and stained with unidentifiable liquids. The floor was old and stained, and the tile was even cracked in a few places, leaving room to see the dried old grout and putty underneath. The hospital beds were laid out five in a row, each separated by discolored curtains on rusty metal rings, all hanging from the ceiling on old decrepit runners.
"This place should be quarrantined," Leon said to himself as he drunkenly staggered from the room and into the hallway. He wanted some answers as to where he was. Stepping into the corridor, he expected to see nurses busy with their morning rounds, but there was no movement. There was no telltale squeaking of cart wheels that needed oil, there was no shuffling of the slippers patients wore so their feet wouldn't get cold. There was no sound at all, except for Leon's own breathing.
Almost having to force his tired body to move, Leon began to trudge down the hallway, following the large sign that read "Stairs." The sign itself was as bad as the rest of the hospital, one of the bolts holding the sign in its placard having disappeared, so the sign hung at a fourty-five degree angle from the wall it was attached to. Sighing, Leon listened absently to his boots thud against the old tile flooring, nearing the stairwell door with every stride of his long legs.
Leon placed his hand on the doorknob that was attached to the door labeled "Stairs" in bright yellow letters, and turned the rusted brass knob. The door squeaked open, revealing a dingy stairwell that reeked of piss and blood. Sighing, Leon took a deep breath and quickly ran down the stairs until he found the first floor, which was two floors below where he started. Pushing through that door, he found himself in the reception area, which was, as the rest of the hospital, totally empty.
The reception area's couches were askew, with cushions missing or torn up. On the table, shredded magazines were strewn across the wooden surface, random words torn from articles that meant nothing more than what the words meant themselves. The reception desk was warped and rotted, though just barely, and had just a few pieces of paper on it. Leon walked over to look, but all the papers were blank check-in slips, nothing more.
Growling lowly, Leon made his way to the front doors, and pushed them open. The hinges screamed out in their high-pitched squeal, and more of that dusty-colored sunlight streamed down and onto Leon's body. A small smile tugging at his lips, he made his first steps outside, the air smelling of snow and exhaust fumes. Stepping farther from his perch on the stairs of the hospital, he made his way into the front courtyard area, and turned around, looking up at the sign on the medical facility.
"Brookhaven Hospital, eh? Not any place I've ever heard of," stated Leon, speaking to no one but himself, but acting as if he was preaching to a crowd. Turning on his heel, the man saw a small brochure tacked to the gate that was in front of Brookhaven's main walkway. Striding over to it nonchalantly, he slipped it from its spot and read the front. In a cheery font, the brochure nearly screamed to him.
-Welcome to Silent Hill! A Restful, Lakeside Resort!-
-- Flashback/Disembodied Voices
----------------------------------------------------
Leon gasped for air as he was hefted into the large red-and-white ambulance, four men in light blue attire staring down at him as if he was wearing a leech on his face. They mumbled among themselves -- at least, Leon heard it as mumbling. It was hard to tell, everything seemed to be muffled, as if he was listening to a conversation through a thick wall.
Leon! LEON, GET AWAY FROM ME!
One of the paramedics grabbed the handles of a defribulator, and began to rub them together. More mumbling, and then the man placed the two pads against Leon's chest. There was a muffled shout of "Clear!", and a hard surge of electricity went through Leon's chest. Why were they shocking him if he was awake, looking up at them all?
N-now, now Leon...let's talk about this!
The paramedic warmed up the defribulator again, but Leon didn't have time to find out what it would feel like to be shocked twice. He was suddenly blown over by a wave of coldness, and was instantly thrown into a coma-like sleep. All of the paramedics knew none the wiser, and were still trying to revive the unconcious and close-to-death Leon Owens.
-----
Dusty light poured in through the hospital window, streaming over Leon's stark white face. He groaned, his eyes fluttering open to the morning sun. The light brushed over his bed and hit against the yellowed wall behind him, the tiles seeming to be old and discolored from time and, in places, some iodine. Slowly, Leon began to stand up, taking time to let out a long, loud yawn. Slowly, he stared around the room, and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "You think they'd keep a hospital from looking so old and mildewy," he said softly as he stood up, having struggled for the words to describe the place he was in.
Taking staggering steps, Leon made his way toward the bathroom, which was hidden behind a door on the left side of the room. Stepping in, he groaned as he situated himself in front and above the toilet, and unzipped his pants' fly.
Finishing his business, Leon groggily slipped back outside the bathroom, letting his eyes get a good look around. The hospital looked nothing like the hospital he had worked at -- the room lay out was totally different, and the room just looked far from kept up. The ceiling, made of drop-in drywall-like material, was cracked and stained with unidentifiable liquids. The floor was old and stained, and the tile was even cracked in a few places, leaving room to see the dried old grout and putty underneath. The hospital beds were laid out five in a row, each separated by discolored curtains on rusty metal rings, all hanging from the ceiling on old decrepit runners.
"This place should be quarrantined," Leon said to himself as he drunkenly staggered from the room and into the hallway. He wanted some answers as to where he was. Stepping into the corridor, he expected to see nurses busy with their morning rounds, but there was no movement. There was no telltale squeaking of cart wheels that needed oil, there was no shuffling of the slippers patients wore so their feet wouldn't get cold. There was no sound at all, except for Leon's own breathing.
Almost having to force his tired body to move, Leon began to trudge down the hallway, following the large sign that read "Stairs." The sign itself was as bad as the rest of the hospital, one of the bolts holding the sign in its placard having disappeared, so the sign hung at a fourty-five degree angle from the wall it was attached to. Sighing, Leon listened absently to his boots thud against the old tile flooring, nearing the stairwell door with every stride of his long legs.
Leon placed his hand on the doorknob that was attached to the door labeled "Stairs" in bright yellow letters, and turned the rusted brass knob. The door squeaked open, revealing a dingy stairwell that reeked of piss and blood. Sighing, Leon took a deep breath and quickly ran down the stairs until he found the first floor, which was two floors below where he started. Pushing through that door, he found himself in the reception area, which was, as the rest of the hospital, totally empty.
The reception area's couches were askew, with cushions missing or torn up. On the table, shredded magazines were strewn across the wooden surface, random words torn from articles that meant nothing more than what the words meant themselves. The reception desk was warped and rotted, though just barely, and had just a few pieces of paper on it. Leon walked over to look, but all the papers were blank check-in slips, nothing more.
Growling lowly, Leon made his way to the front doors, and pushed them open. The hinges screamed out in their high-pitched squeal, and more of that dusty-colored sunlight streamed down and onto Leon's body. A small smile tugging at his lips, he made his first steps outside, the air smelling of snow and exhaust fumes. Stepping farther from his perch on the stairs of the hospital, he made his way into the front courtyard area, and turned around, looking up at the sign on the medical facility.
"Brookhaven Hospital, eh? Not any place I've ever heard of," stated Leon, speaking to no one but himself, but acting as if he was preaching to a crowd. Turning on his heel, the man saw a small brochure tacked to the gate that was in front of Brookhaven's main walkway. Striding over to it nonchalantly, he slipped it from its spot and read the front. In a cheery font, the brochure nearly screamed to him.
-Welcome to Silent Hill! A Restful, Lakeside Resort!-