Chapter 1


This is an old piece I discovered while tidying up my hard drive. I thought that deleting it would be a shame, so I hope someone likes and enjoys it.


The door clicked close behind me with almost startling noise that echoes through the empty hallway. I took a cautious look around, the stark hall stretching out in front of me. The white walls contrasted the dark wooden floor and my eyes lingered on the wall opposite my front door.

The peephole glinted brightly back at me, showing my own twisted reflection to me and I took an unnecessary large gulp of air.

After halting my movement for another minute I turned around to lock the entrance to my apartment with a final clicking of metal on metal.

I walked towards the flight of stairs and stuffed my bunch of keys into the inner pocket of my light leather jacket that I always fetched out of my closet whenever autumn came around.

My camera was dangling down from my neck only held up by a string that was attached to its carrying bag. It beat softly against my chest as I dismounted down the stairs.

That day I had a special place in mind- Toluca Lake in Silent Hill. It wouldn't be the first time I went there really, I remembered bitterly. Walter Sullivan was dead and gone. There was no more danger there. No locked and barred doors, no smell of rotting flesh and no groaning ghosts, but still I was uncomfortable.

There had been occasions where I just kind of drifted me over there even before the whole incident. The landscape was vacant, void of people. The fog that clung to the little town due to the increased air moisture caused by the Toluca Lake always had a nice touch in my opinion as well.

The only people I ever met there before the whole incident were tourists and father Vincent, whenever I neared the church in the center.

Even after it I went as far as to visit and wander through the place aimlessly every once in a while, trying hard to get over my own issues faster, although I always tried to avoid putting myself into any situation I wasn't sure I could deal with.

My current boss assigned the lake to me, but like I mentioned before, I don't despise the village in itself, even if I was sort of forced to go, due to my job as a freelance photographer.

So I knew the reason for the cold shivers that had went down my spine every time the name Silent Hill wandered through my head very well. It was only natural to be afraid I told myself several times. The fear wasn't really unreasonable but I wouldn't let it drive me. It was simply something I needed to get over with. I repeated the words dead and gone in a low mumble like a mantra.

Though the forcefulness of the whole situation put more pressure on me than I would have liked I was somehow thankful for gaining one more paycheck and distraction.

Whenever I was at home waiting for job opportunities I eventually ran out of means to busy myself. I couldn't even recall how many times I rearranged my CD's and books by titles. The outcome would always be the same; having too much time on my hands never ended well on my end.

The "Walter Sullivan case" changed me. I tried to be around people more, but at the same time I grew even more cautious of strangers. I hated how random touches would make me jump even though I tried to suppress it every time.

Old Henry Townshend didn't fit to well with a lot of people, since as long as I could remember, actually, so it wasn't that much of a change. My shy and introverted characteristics made me look boring and it only got worse when people mistook my coy antics for the snoopy, stuck up artist attitude.

As I went down the last steps of the wooden stairs and across half of the entrance hall I saw a somewhat familiar face. A rather tall grown man was crouched down by the mail box.

He had a blonde shock of hair and broad shoulders. His green eyes sparkled lightly as he turned around to bob his head in silent greeting.

"Hey. How are you?" While he was furthermore concerned with his handiwork, he managed to sound interested.

"I´m fine." My voice came out worn and tired. That was a state that I found myself in almost all of the time since the past few months. "What about you?"

James had been a new face around there, the son of the superintendent Frank Sunderland. The man had moved into one of the apartments just months ago – to be near his father I figured for myself.

Eileen told me that he had lost his wife half year before he moved to South Ashfield Heights. With his near past still in mind the smile he flashed my way seemed awfully fake.

"I´m fine." The blonde shifted through the little red toolbox that was sitting next to him on the ground, searching for a needed tool.

"So, what are you doing?" It sounded incredible lame even to my own ears, but a casual talk every once in a while wouldn't do any harm.

"The mailbox is acting up again." James browsed through the tool box once more. Silence surrounded us and it was only disrupted by a metallic clanging every now and then.

Suddenly I stood there somewhat embarrassed, feeling incredible stupid for just watching him do his work. I had missed my chance to walk out by now as well.

Finally he found the screwdriver he had been searching for what felt like forever. The other continued on with his task.

"So you are on your way to a shoot again?" James asked without looking up. I was surprised he even knew that I was still present, because I seemed pretty invisible to myself.

"Yeah..." Way to kill the chance to start up a conversation with anyone but Eileen that I had had since a while.

"Where to?" The other male probably wanted to be nice. In his eyes I must have looked like a loner. I wasn't a social guy, not even close. The only persons I spoke to were the superintendent and Eileen, my total-out-of-my-class-neighbor. Frank probably instructed him to do so to begin with.

Good old Frank. He was a little on the strange side especially since my newer discovery of his possession of an umbilical cord put him there even more so, but all in all he was a kind man, withered by time and the worry for his only son that had been lost for two years.

"Silent Hill. Toluca Lake to be precise." Silence fell over us once again. The screw he seemed to twist with new vigor squeaked in protest against the forceful handling.

"Oh." I could have sworn he paled quite a few shades. Suddenly his movements almost looked frantic, but I could be wrong. My hands began to fiddle with my car keys as the silence stretched further.

"So...I guess I´ll get going now..." I had to, too. I wanted to photograph the scenery with a sunset setting. It was afternoon already and I took one whole hour of car drive to get there. I inched towards the door slowly.

"Henry?" The handle of the door felt cold on the skin of my hands as I pressed against it.

"What is it?" When I turned again, I found him staring at me intently.

"Be careful, alright?" My answer was a quiet "sure" and although it seemed like he had more on his mind that he would like to get out, I left.