The night was colder than any Richard had ever known in his life. For every step he took Father Jeremiah's words rang in his ears. "You've given them no choice." The aged priest had said. "Now they know how to get you to Silent Hill." Was it only five hours ago that he'd sat in the study at St. Peter's Church talking to the Father? So much had changed in so little time…

It had all started only three days ago when Richard's wife Sarah had been reading the newspaper at their kitchen table, lazily flipping the pages as she drank her morning coffee. It was a ritual she'd had ever since Richard had known her. Every morning from 8:30 until 9:00 she diligently read the articles, searching for something that never came.

That is, until the day she dropped her coffee to the table and stared in horror at the front page. Though she'd quickly folded up the paper and, feigning sickness, run up to their room, Richard had seen the title of the article. Murder in Silent Hill.

That evening he'd asked her what was so special about the town. He'd never heard of it in his life, but she'd firmly refused to tell him anything. No amount of prodding or pleading had broken her resolve, so he'd been forced to go to outside sources.

The next day he'd searched for everything he could find on Silent Hill in their town library. That was the first snag he'd discovered. Nothing about the town seemed to exist. Even when searching an atlas he had been unable to find as much as a zip code for it. After discreetly asking around, he'd hit the second snag. The few people that had shown any inkling of knowledge about the town immediately feigned stupidity about what it was when he asked.

He'd come home that night to discover a note from his wife sitting on a box wrapped in a brown supermarket bag and marked with an archaic looking seal. Opening the letter first, he'd seen the flowing script of Sarah's handwriting filling the page.

Richard,

Something's happened that I can't even begin to explain. I have to leave for a few days. If I don't call by midnight tonight, you must take the package to Father Jeremiah at St. Peter's. I can't stress how important it is that you don't open the package yourself.

If you love me, you'll do as I ask.

Sarah

Midnight had come and gone, but Richard had given her a few extra hours. When there'd been no word by noon the next day, he'd gone to see Father Jeremiah.

The priest had been open and receptive until Richard told him about the article in the newspaper and then had all but demanded Richard leave the church. With a creeping suspicion he'd done so, arriving back home to find that there was still no call from his wife and that the box still sat on their kitchen table.

He'd read through the letter again, wondering why he hadn't taken the box to Father Jeremiah, but knowing that it all had something to do with his intrigueabout Silent Hill.

Finally, he'd decided that it was time to take more desperate measures. Though Sarah had warned him not to open the box its very existence so soon after the article proved it had something to do with Silent Hill, and with Sarah gone he wanted the answers no one had given him. With shaking hands he had slowly opened the seal, slitting it down the middle with his pocket-knife.

Inside had been nothing like he had imagined. Only two scrapbooks with the same kind of archaic markings as the seal on their covers rested beside an ancient leather-bound book.

Taking out the scrapbooks first, Richard had found them marked One and Two. He'd opened the first, marked with One, to find it full of articles about Silent Hill. Headlines such as Death in Silent Hill, Mysterious Disappearances Continue in Silent Hill, Serial Killer at Loose, and Mysterious Fire Destroys Six Homes covered the first few pages.

The one about the serial killer caught his eye, and he'd read deeper into it. Now he was sorry he had.

Serial Killer at Loose

The mutilated body of a young girl was found at the Silent Hill amusement park today. She is the fifth victim in a series of murders thought to be committed by Walter Sullivan, the same madman that escaped from the Brookhaven Mental Hospital two weeks ago.

No names have been released, but it is assumed from police missing person's reports that the young girl is Megan Corning, a life-long resident of Silent Hill who recently disappeared.

Walter Sullivan has still eluded police, and is considered armed and extremely dangerous. Any evidence as to his whereabouts should be sent to the Silent Hill police department.

It had surprised Richard then that with the media's love of violence and gore, that there had been nothing on the news. Now he knew why…he knew all to well.

On a hunch he'd opened the scrapbook it to the back, and noticed the article from the paper he'd seen only a day ago. Sarah had clipped it out and pasted it in. After reading it, he'd noticed remarkable similarities to the case with Walter Sullivan. Checking the dates, he'd found that nearly five years separated the articles, but after searching the scrapbook, it seemed that Walter had never been caught.

Hoping to understand why Sarah had kept the books, he'd opened book Two, hoping desperately to find answers. Instead, his confusion had only deepened.

It was also filled with clippings, but these were focused on people. Several articles about a man named Harry caught his attention, though they didn't seem to make any sense. Several were contradictory, and even more had stated their facts differently than other articles. Towards the middle of the articles had been a short obituary report on Harry, stating that he was survived by a daughter Heather who was the youngest of two. The oldest daughter had been killed in a tragic traffic accident outside of Silent Hill.

Upon reading that, Richard had felt as if his blood had suddenly turned to ice. True, he'd been reading a book of articles about Silent Hill, but the amount of coincidences and the sheer amount of death associated with the town appalled him.

After looking through the entire second scrapbook, he'd found no more articles about Heather. It looked like she'd simply disappeared from the world. In another one of those bizarre "coincidences" Silent Hill had also disappeared after Harry's death.

Terrified, but still curious, he'd put the scrapbooks aside and finally turned his attention to the leather-bound book. It wasn't large, only half as big as the scrapbooks, but weighed much more than they had.

Two words, Silens Tumulosus, had been imprinted on the book, both in a language Richard hadn't known. Beneath them, scratched into the leather, had been the short phrase, Do they know what was unleashed? With hands that had been unsteady since his task had begun, he'd unbuckled a large silver clasp and the book's spine had snapped and popped as it opened.

At first, he'd only noticed that something was unusual about the pages. The script printed on them had been rather boring, and the ink had begun to badly fade in some places.

The book had been about the history of Silent Hill, but the author had seemed almost afraid to write certain facts. Most of the articles Richard had seen in the scrapbooks didn't receive any mention, and upon finishing the book, he'd learned nothing. Purely on a whim, he'd opened it again, and noticed that two of the pages seemed to be sticking together.

He'd gently pulled them apart, and that was when he'd begun to wish he'd taken Sarah's warning more seriously.

All praise to Sammael, Savior of Silent Hill. He has given us the strength to continue our work in the city. He is patient, but the time is coming soon where his birth will be celebrated by all! With Harry gone and his damned daughter soon to follow, there is nothing that can stop the rebirth of our Lord! A chorus of screams and an orgy of death will soon follow as the world begins to drown in blood! Soon the new sacrifices will be chosen and the rituals will begin!

That's when Richard had noticed what had seemed so odd about the pages earlier. Each had been carefully glued together. After several hours of careful work, he'd finished ungluing the pages, and had read most of them, each with a deepening sense of horror than the next.

Human sacrifices, demonic rituals, evil symbols etched in human blood…all had been carefully recorded in the depths of the book. Over and over came the same name, Sammael…

Without waiting another minute, he'd thrown the scrapbooks back into the box, loaded everything into his car, and driven to St. Peter's Church to talk with Father Jeremiah.