Chapter One
Waking Problems
"Whoa," The man yelled as he heard a shriek that shot his face out of bed, and nearly into the ceiling. His eyes scanned the area around himself, 'where the hell am I?' He though. He had fell asleep in his apartment, on his pitiful little bed in the Blue Creek Apartments, but he was somewhere else now.
Above him was what appeared to be a metal grate? That was out of the ordinary. He decided not to figure that out, and simply rolled out of the bed he was in. The room around him was definitely not his shitty room in the Blue Creeks, it was a very fancy room with what appeared to have an entire other room above. The metal grate he had seen over his room was the entire ceiling of this room, or perhaps it was the floor of the room above him.
This man was named Michael Keefer, and he was a resident of the sleepy town of Silent Hill. His blood was on his hands, and he didn't know why. His hair was a dead white, instead of the lustrous brown that it used to be, and his eyes were blue instead of hazel. What had happened to him over one night? What…
He then noticed his clothes were different, but that wouldn't have mattered if there wasn't a strange sign on his shirt, and it was painted in blood. It looked like a pair of wings in the center, with an infinity symbol above it, and a ring that was filled with symbols around it.
Michael ripped off this shirt and threw it angrily to the ground. He ran to the wall of the room he had woken up in and opened up the door. The outside world was cold. The chill went right into him, and grabbed hold, not allowing him to move only to be its prisoner. He fought it off and took a step forward. The cold was so strong, almost painful, he thought he might be able to fight it off and get to the little house across the street.
After a few minutes he got ready and ran across the street barefoot, because he realized that there were no shoes in his room. He got to the house and pounded on the door, a young woman, no where only then twenty-four or twenty-five, answered the door. She scanned him over almost lustfully, and Michael stuffed his hands into his pockets.
"Are you Michael Keefer?" She asked, smiling. Michael stared momentarily, then answered: "Yes, how…how do you know me?"
The woman smiled, like that of a snake, finding it's prey: "come on in… Michael" She hissed, "We've been waiting…."
The woman's hand snapped onto his arm, small droplets of blood coming down. She pulled sharply on him and Michael went black.