Chapter 1

May 8th: It's cloudy out today. Looks like it might rain. Been in the hospital for a week now, but they won't even let me out to see the sky. I miss my shop. The thick, cloying scents of the flowers. This place reeks of stale wounds and death. Give me roses any day of the week.

Yeah, you heard me correctly. Roses, I fucking kid you not. I'd almost give body parts to be back in my shop, spritzing dry leaves and clipping new blossoms. But noooo, I had to get wasted last week and plow into a fucking Happy Burger building.

Okay, now I bet you're wondering why a tough-sounding bastard like me is missing a bunch of pretty flowers.

Well, I ain't that tough.

My name's Garrett Daniels. I'm thirty-two years old. I'm married to twenty-eight year old Evelyn. We have three kids; Garrett Junior; five, and twins, Anna, and Leah- they're ten months old.

I may cuss like a sailor, but at heart, I am a chicken.

Otherwise, I never would've let that weird lady special order the White Claudia from my store.

This, by the way, is how I ended up here in the first place.

I own the Flower Shop on Sanders Street. It's the only one in town- far as I know. I take care of every special occasion in this fair town of mine. Having owned the place for a decade now, I can't quite remember what possessed me to buy it- but I'm glad I did. It's really grown on me.

Okay, Garrett, you're getting off track. Back to the story, dumbass.

So there I was, minding my own business, when this chicky comes strollin' on in. Pretty little thing, but she was dressed like a high-price hooch. Tight, pink sweater, over a paler pink top. An even tighter mini-skirt and calf boots that highlighted the longest legs I'd ever seen. She had bleached blond hair, which she'd tipped with magenta. It gently swayed against her shoulders.

Stop fuckin' staring at me like that! I looked, but I didn't touch- Christ, I'm not dead!

She strutted- yes, strutted, there's nothing else you can call a walk like hers- up to the counter.

"Hello." She purred. That voice. Jesus, what a voice.

In my most merry, accommodating tone, "Can I help you?"

She leaned forward, clearly trying to give me a good look at what she was sellin'. "I'm here to pick up a special package."

That voice again. Whoever she was, she was a pro. She knew what she had, and wasn't afraid to flaunt it to her advantage. Cocky.

I liked her instantaneously.

"The name?" I asked. Shit, I couldn't give her something if I didn't know what I was lookin' for.

"I ordered it for a friend and put it in his name…" she said, smiling. She reminded me of that old adage about the cat that ate the canary. Very predatory.

"Well, I still need the name, ma'am." I said. "Sorry, but I ain't psychic."

She smiled wider. She was mighty satisfied about something. "Sunderland. The package is under the name James Sunderland."

"Okay, hold on. I keep special orders in the back." I replied. I went to the back room, AKA "The Cooler".

Sure enough, there it was. It was a thick bouquet of herbs. They had oblong leaves, and white blossoms. The tag read, "Sunderland. James."

Suddenly, alarm bells were jangling in my head, but I couldn't figure out why.

Shaking it off, I returned to the front room, and gave the woman the bouquet.

She smiled with what seemed to be blissful malice. "Thank you. I already paid for it when I ordered it."

"Did you now?" I checked the records. Yep. She signed it in his name, though. James Sunderland. I found myself wondering who the lucky asshole was.

"Well, I still need you to sign it for me, I keep track of when things get picked up." I handed the woman a pen.

She took it, making sure to brush her fingers against my hand. She signed it, but she left in a hurry.

I looked down at the paper, curious.

In a graceful script was written, Mary Sunderland.

Hmm, his wife maybe? Shit, maybe it's their anniversary.

An hour later, I was still thinking about that herb she bought. Where the fuck have I seen it before??

I took an herbal book off my bookshelf, and started to flip through the pages.

Within minutes, I found it. I felt the color drain out of my face.

White Claudia: A perennial herb found near water. Reaches height of 10-15 inches tall. Oblong leaves, white blossoms. Its seeds contain hallucinogens. Ancient records show that it was once used for religious ceremonies. The hallucinogenic effect was key.

I panicked. I had just sold a woman, in effect, poison. This, by the way- meant my career was fucked.

I needed a drink, badly. I wrote a quick sign, and taped it to the door. Family emergency. Closed for the rest of the week. I locked up, and got the hell out of there.

I got in my car, and went to what I believed was the real Happiest Place on Earth. Neely's Bar.

Who know that five hours later, I'd be near death.

:: Author Notes :: I couldn't really come up with my own character, so this is based on the Brookhaven Roof Diary from Silent Hill 2.

:: Disclaimer :: I don't own Silent Hill. God knows I could use the money, but I don't. So, don't bother suing me, I'm broke.