Story Overview: All his life, since he was adopted from the Brahams Orphanage at six, Alexander Bryant has lived with chronic insomnia, nightmares, and fits of panic and fear. Found half dead on the side of the road alongside the corpse of his mother and sister, nicknamed 'Lisa'. In the process of removing the bodies from the scene, under strange circumstances, Lisa's corpse dissapeared. A trail of footsteps led to Silent Hill. Now, as Alex, thirteen, becomes more and more ill, his foster parents resolve to send him back to his town of origin in hopes of ridding him of his malidies once and for all. However, strange forces lie in wait for Alex, and a vicious sect of The Order that had once revered Alex and his twin sister Lisa as Gods want him back.

Once you enter Silent Hill, there's no going back.

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Chapter One - 'Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here'

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The thick smell of old coffee filled the air inside the old Ford pickup truck, as the ancient piece of mobile iron cruised further down a quiet road. In the backseat, a short boy with chocolate brown hair and a tired face leaned his forehead against the cool window, exhaling through his teeth and blowing out his cheeks in frustration. "Are we there yet?" he inquired in an impatient, sharp tone. The figure at the steering wheel said nothing. He let out another sigh and shifted from his position, pulling his legs up onto the seat and staring out onto the road. A pitch black void, the only source of light the blaring high beams that pierced the darkness with such an intensity that for a brief moment, night seemed to turn to day. Alexander Bryant, the boy of thirteen in the back seat, averted his eyes.

The blinding light had given rise to a headache, and he squeezed his eyes shut until the pounding subsided. Suddenly, as he sank back into the leather of the truck, something stirred within him. His mouth filled with a familiar, sour taste, and sounds like poison filled his heads. They shook and resonated, proclaiming this and that, screaming obscenities inside him. Wails of lost souls. An image of a sad young girl; no, a fetus in a womb; no, a hotel set ablaze. He clawed at his forehead, as if he were trying to claw out the images and sounds. The sounds grew louder, declarations of fanatical faith to pagan gods, turning into simple, blood-curdling screams of agony. Those screams seem to envelope him in fire, his skin burning white-hot. He clutched at his chest, writhing, barely feeling it as the car came to a stop, and the chauffeur rose from his seat; barely feeling it, as the hulking figure scooped him into his arms and carried him to the side of the road. The moment Alex touched the asphalt, he leaned over and wretched up. And then… silence.

Shivering, he inched away slowly from what he'd expelled and leaned his back against a post. To his left, the truck's lights still blared, and the smell of smoke filled his nostril's. In the shroud of darkness, a single red bud glowed like embers in a dying fire. The guy's taking a drag while I'm sitting here pretty much feeling the same way someone who was hit by a truck would? However, he was concerned with other things beside the one's in front of him. Alex chewed on his lower lip in a nervous fashion. The darkness around them seemed to envelop everything, swallowing it up like a monster would gobble up some poor girl's grandmother in a fairy tale. Darkness had always scared Alex. Ever since he was a child, he'd felt like within the shadows a million eyes were watching, a million teeth were gnashing, lying in wait for him to accidentally stray too far into his basement so they could all devour him. And now, as he sat there on that lonely mountainside road, he felt the same sense of forboding. Like something was watching him. Slowly, he felt a heaviness come over him, like an invisible weight had been dropped on him. Into the shadows he stared, breathing slowly and heavily. From within them, something stirred.

Shifting through the darkness, floating, it beckoned to him. He willed himself to get up, to run away, to run to it, to do something - but the weight restrained him. He felt his chest lurch foward, as the figure inched toward him. It's details became more apparent. It was a girl; no, a whisp of a girl, a toddler with shaggy brown hair who's face was covered in ash or soot. Her clothes were a violent shade of cobalt - a jumper and shoes, with white knee socks. She kneeled in front of him, her fingers outstretched. Alex's eyes bulged as he struggled for air; the girl...she had wrapped her hands around his neck. Now, as a fire rose in her eyes, he began to panic. Forcing himself to move, he lifted up a single hand to push her away. However, it phased right through the little girl, and with a cackle that broke the silence of the night air, she seemed to melt with the shadows, spilling out onto his clothes, seeping into him, taking over him as he broke free from the weight and clawed, clawed, clawed at the acidic darkness that spread over his skin and clothes. Slowly, a voice resonated through his ears. A soft whisper, barely hearable; sleep, Dear Brother... it said, slowly. Sleep...

He jerked up from his sleep, flying into panic, clawing at his clothes and shouting into the night air. Writhing, frantic, he flung himself up and about, staggering around the road until strong hands clasped his shoulders and whirled him around. "Wake up! Wake up, kid!" Slowly, his pain-filled eyes interlocked with deep, grey ones. They seemed to cast a spell on him - taking the pain, the fright away like it was nothing. Alex pulled away from him, and in defiance, turned his head to the side of the road. "We have to get going. It's almost dawn." The boy, as he made his way toward the truck reluctantly, allowed his eyes to stray to a sign on the side of the road. Printed in faded white letters on a mottled green backset, were the two words that had haunted him all his life. Silent Hill ; twelve miles.

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The truck slowly wheeled to a stop. A low fog rolled over the asphalt, shrouding everything in the surrounding area in a thin veil of mist. Alex rolled his neck, working out any kinks, then lowered himself down onto the road. In front of him, a small rest stop, long abandoned. Behind him, a truck, and a winding mountain road covered in a blanket of grey. He sighed to himself, and shoved his hands in his pockets. As he stared out onto the horizon, he couldn't tell if it was morning or mid-day; the fog obscured all. "Weird 'ol place…" He clenched his teeth and took a quick glance further down the road. Nothing. He took a step back, light-headed. Just have to get to Paleville. Should only be a few minutes in that creepy town, anyway. Try and try as he might, however, he was just lying to himself. He'd read the websites. He'd heard about the cult that once thrived there. He'd seen the filed reports of people going in, and never coming out. And as much as he had begged and pleaded with Jack and Kaye, there was no way to get around it. After his recent string of nightmares, and the incident with 'Mr. Creezil', his psychologist had concluded that the only way to get rid of his insomnia once and for all was to return Alex to the very place where it all started; first Paleville, to rendezvous with his foster mother and psychologist, and then into the bowels of the allegedly haunted town, to 'release' him off his affliction. He had his doubts.

Sitting down on the rusted grayling, he pulled his hands from his pocket and into the pouch of his beat-up flannel jacket, pulling out a shiny, new, white Sprint Katana. His birthday present. He flipped it open, and ran his finger over the plastic guard that had been pre-lain onto the screen. It obscured everything, but he held it so dear to him that he didn't really want to take it off. He looked up over at the old restrooms again. His chauffeur was taking his sweet time, that was for sure.

"Come to think of it, I don't even really know the guys name." According to Jack, he was an 'old friend' willing to do him a favor. Alex had his doubts about him, too. Grinding his teeth, he pressed down on the 'End' button of his phone, and watched the screen come to life. A glimmer of hope. Maybe he would be able to reach Ben! But his hopes were dashed as the screen finished loading, and he found that he had no reception. "Mother ffff….stupid phone." He went to slap it shut, but before he could, something caught his attention. On a green background, in bold black letters; an incoming call, at 4: 56, P.M. Bewildered, he brought the Katana to his ear.

"Hello?" A few moments of silence followed. Alex shifted in the spot where he sat. A shuffling could be heard slowly in the distant. Human feet, dragging against the asphalt. Faint, but distinct. He swallowed, and resolved to hang up, but before he could pull the phone away from his ear, a slow and grainy voice filled his head. "Down the Rabbit Hole, Alexander. You're sister is waiting for you…" He began to shake. That voice…it was not unfamiliar. Painful memories of that night only a few weeks ago began to rise in his head. Forcing himself to speak, he shouted into the phone. "LEAVE ME ALONE YOU ASSHOLE!" Slapping the phone shut, he sprinted towards the car. After opening the door, he scrambled into the back seat, pulled the door shut, locked every single passage into the car and squeezed himself into the space between the backseat and the door. Heart thumping so loud that he thought it might burst out of his chest, he tried to calm himself down.

"… … …" Slow down your breathing. Find your center. Focus on something to rid yourself of the panic. The kind, smooth voice of his psychologist, Dr. Maria Smith echoed through his head. Adjacent to him were a pile of papers. He resolved to focus on them. Slowly but surely, the panic dissipated. However, he felt something wasn't right. The papers. Something about them made him uneasy. He felt panic well up in him, and in a desperate struggle to assure himself nothing was wrong, he seized the papers from their spot and scanned them quickly.

His breath caught in his chest. Next to his personal information, a picture of Alex himself, his foster parents, and a girl who looked like a feminine form of himself, was a single sentence printed in Courier New font, crisp and clean. "By the orders of High Priestess Desdemona of the Great Mother Sect of the The Order, you're to take the boy to the Incubation Center. We will take him from there." The papers fell to the floor. In a number of seconds, Alex was out the door, and disappearing down the road, into the endless cloud of fog.