OC Monster: I found this description of a monster I made a long time ago. I'm fairly certain that it/he/she is a terrible mix of multiple monsters.

Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill. Or the monsters. Just this.. weird one.


Am I real? I don't know.. I feel real.

I thought this as I stared out at the mist covered street. I stood motionlessly, waiting for any other sign of movement. It was always quiet around here. The fleshies hardly came out, so I couldn't do anything but wait here.

I twisted around to look at my tail; a ragged, bloody appendage full of spines that allowed me to impale others. This had come in handy when I was assaulted by Smokers and Needlers. I had doll-like joints and had blades for legs, so I made clacking noises. .. I had never seen my face. I wonder what it looked like? My torso was poorly stitched together, so I always oozed and squirted blood when I walked. My lower stomach was torn a bit more than the rest, a bit of viscera visible among the ever flowing amount of blood pouring from my lower intestines. On my right arm, you could see gore and bone protruding from a gaping wound. Normally, I suppose that would be enough of a problem that it would make the arm useless, but I could move it just fine. At the end, my fingers were rusty blades caked with blood that had dried up over my wrists.

Was I previously just like them? A fleshy? Did I actually exist? I longed to be near them, around them. The ones that actually see me scream as I advance, as though I should not be up and moving. I'm only doing what feels natural. I just want to get close to them. To inspect them further. I want to know if they truly are like me. Or vice versa.

... But they don't talk to me afterward. When they finally hold still for me, they ignore me, and stare blankly at the sky. I can move with all this blood coming out of me. If I can move, surely they can? I know they can! They must! ... That is until the Ferals get them.

I haven't seen any others like me. Am I really all alone? None of the others have any interest in talking to me. They have others like them to cluster together.

I heard a sound. The sound of slow, hesitant footsteps coming from the far end of the street. It took a good long while for the figure to come into view, as the fog was so thick. I wasn't sure how I heard them before, but it didn't matter. I could see them much more clearly; a male, hunched over and scared. He was clutching a paper bag to his chest, treading carefully through the dimly lit street. His hair was sticking up in random directions, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He glanced over his shoulder every few seconds, showing constant paranoia and fear.

I remained silent in the shadows.

The sight of the man planted a feeling in me: my breath caught and a fierce, icy numbness spread throughout my chest and stomach.

Without thinking, I stepped out into the pool of light from a lamppost. I waited for his attention to be directed upon me, and I grew excited when his eyes settled on me. He paused, and I could hear his breathing speed up, and saw his eyes widen until he looked hysterical.

Was he happy to see me?

Happy that I came forth to him, and him alone?

I was happy to see him.

I stepped closer, outstretching a clawed hand to him. I wanted to examine his arm to mine, to see his legs, his face: everything.

I wanted to know if his face was like mine.

I beckoned him to me, but he did not move. Perhaps he wanted me to come to him. I stepped closer once more, my bladed legs echoing that noise into the silence of the night.

He jumped a little, and the bag slid from his grip, spilling first-aid kits and food before him.

I moved ever closer, ad he moved back, falling until he was scrambling back with his hands and feet. I reached the bag and bent over to help pick up the items, only to shred the food supplies with my fingers. I looked up at him, ready to apologize, when he opened his mouth and spat at me.

"Monster!"

I felt numb again. What had I done? Why did I anger him? I leaned toward him but he gripped a broken branch near him and swung at me, colliding with my head. I teetered to one side, but regained my balance quickly enough.

He was up now, readying himself to strike me again, "That was for my friends! They're going to die because of freaks like you! Monster! Fucking piece of shit!"

I didn't understand his rage, and I tilted my head to the side questioningly. Somehow, he took this as a sign of aggression, for the look of fear grew.

I tried once again to make contact with him, and succeeded in getting within arms reach of him. That's when he started screaming and swinging that branch around wildly.

"Why won't you just die?!"

The blows to my head were making me dizzy, and I could feel a liquid slipping from my aching skull, pattering on the concrete below. I didn't appreciate this. I reached out and grabbed his arm, ripping away the branch.. Consequently as well as his arm. Blood spewed everywhere and his screams intensified until they were almost as dizzying as the attacks. I tried to cover his mouth with my hand as I tried to pick him up. I couldn't see his legs all too well, and he was starting to slip a little. My tail came up and pressed through his stomach, holding him still while I stripped away a part of his pants to see his legs. They certainly weren't blades, but they were bloody like mine were.

His blood was pumping out of his stomach and trailing down my tail, leaving a pool beneath us both. He was still struggling and his legs were starting to kick and spasm, so I held those tightly with my other hand, releasing his mouth. My claws had cut into the side of his face, and his screams were now a garbled mess as he choked up a lungful of the red plasma.

I couldn't really find many similarities, so I tilted him upside down and pushed him forcibly from my tail. He lay there, twitching and convulsing as I turned and left.

Maybe the next one could give me more answers.