The summary.

Richard is a 32 year old guitar technician suffering from recurring night terrors. Once insomnia developed as a result, he started becoming angry. He slacked on his job, messing up repairs, and forgetting what parts needed to be restocked. It became such a problem people began threatening his life. That's when a mysterious boy began showing up. In fact, Richard noticed this boy way before the night terrors set in. After certain "accidents" all the clues to his troubles lead to that child. He began getting migraines. Everyday they would get worse and worse to the point he could faint. It was as if something was trying to pull him into dreams, and was failing at it. So, all Richard has is his younger sister, and once he witnesses her death, that's it. The migraine becomes so intense; he begins bleeding from his nose, and eventually passes out.

He wakes up in a mysterious world. Time seems to have stopped, everyone has disappeared, and only strange, mutated beasts are there to greet him. He later spots the boy in this world. A world he has constant déjà vu in. After meeting a young girl named Rozilyn does he learn the name of the town.

He has stumbled into Silent Hill after taking the bait. His quest is to find his sister; A simple task which leads to a life altering decision.

Chapter One

Quiet, cold, the ground is wet. I'm in that same place I always end up. I'm lost in some kind of labyrinth with that uncomfortable urge to run from something that isn't there. You know when you turn your back and you feel someone hovering behind you only to turn around and find no one there even after you've told yourself there isn't one there… You still believe there is. I hate it. I always feel like I've been starved for days, so I'm weak, dehydrated, so I'm delirious, and beaten so I'm confused. It felt like something was trying to kill me. And the smell… The smell of death was everywhere. The walls reeked of dead skin and blood. They looked like rotted muscle tissue. There was no way I would touch it. I could hear a gust of wind every now and then as if the very corridor was breathing.

There was hardly any light. I have no idea how I navigated that hell hole, instinct maybe? Or maybe I would go wherever to avoid the stench. I couldn't remember how I got there. I don't think I even wanted to find out. I wanted to get out. I was tired of hearing raspy whispers in that chill. I kept moving, even with my leg bleeding from my hip to my ankle. Even with my shoulder out of socket. How the fuck did I get like this? What is this?

My flashlight wouldn't quit flickering. No damn it, don't do this. I need you to work! No telling when those things will come back. And now I was talking to myself. Where am I going? I felt like I was looking for something. How can I look for something that I have no clue exists?

I could hear slight whimper. I stopped, backed up, looked to my right. I could see stairs… These haven't appeared before… I've had this dream almost every night and never has this been here… Great, there's that urge again, to keep going forward. I feel if I go forward, something will charge up at me… Wait… Why do I feel like something is looking at me… It's pitch black at the very bottom yet… I can sense eyes gazing up at me.

Who's there?

Who the hell am I talking too? And what a surprise there isn't a response. I was trapped. My gut told me that if I went forward something would happen, if I went down the stairs something would happen… What do I do?

…Now I'm screaming like a mad man. I've lost it, I have honestly lost it. Fuck this place. Fuck it, if I die I die. I want out!

I'm running as fast as I can carry my tore up body. There's that feeling. Oh god, run faster! Here it comes! Why didn't I just go down the stairs!! Don't turn around!! Why are you turning around! What is that?!

"RICHARD!!" Erica was beating on my door. "Open up!! Wake up!!"

I fell out of my bed, completely disarranged. I looked around my room as if it were a trap. It wasn't… I was awake… It was 6:13 in the morning. I had another night terror. My sister kept pounding at the door.

"ARE YOU AWAKE?! OPEN UP!"

I ripped open the door, eyes blood shot, and breath that could kill an elephant. She stared at me with that look she always gives me. No, I'm not crazy. No, I'm not drunk. No, I'm not high. I just had to respond with a look that said all that and she walked away.

"Maybe you're making your room too cold. Get ready for work."

She's always treating me like my mother, even if she is 13 years younger than me. I walked into my bathroom to wash off the sweat. I can see my shoulder… It's cut.

"What the hell?" I was talking to myself again.

I washed it off. This was too much. You could see in my trash bin all the support groups my friend's have tried to get me in. I don't need it because I'm not sick. I have night terrors. No big deal. Why should I be analyzed for it? Or even talk about it? I hated the way I looked after those dreams. Usually, I think I'm a pretty good looking guy. I'm tall, broad, muscular, masculine features, royal blue eyes; black hair that I always made sure was perfectly spiked. I had skin like a woman though, fair and soft. Now every time I have a night terror, I look dead. All the blood drains from my face, I have circles under my eyes so dark I look like I have two black eyes, bags the size of pillows, lips cracked, eyes blood shot. I looked like someone strangled me the entire time. I still went on with my morning routine. I try to make myself look as normal as possible. It takes me about 15 minutes to do it all. Not too bad I think. I still scare myself every time I lock eyes with my reflection.

I had a love for music. All types, and I planned on making my own someday. I also love psychiatry. I had planned on getting a degree in it just to have a back up. Yeah, that worked out. Instead of being on stage, I work behind it. Yep… My name is Richard, I'm 32 years old, and I work at the local venue setting up for bands I've never even heard of, and probably never will again. There isn't always a show however, so I fix instruments for the normal people. Either that or I'm selling it to the lawyer's bratty daughter who wants to play just like her idol. Ashlee Simpson? I don't know. I hate the kids that come in nowadays. I always see this one kid come in every so often. Probably about 7 years old. I could never figure out why he'd be there alone. Every time someone tries to help him find something (or someone) he runs out. He never steals anything. As strange as it sounds, I think that kid has something to do with it. And I'll tell you why.

A while ago, I was trying to help an older man understand that his style of guitar isn't made anymore, and I didn't have the parts to repair it. Some things are meant to never be played again. He insisted I show him the parts, and demanded to see my supervisor who would then say the same thing I did.

"Sorry, they don't make parts for this kind of guitar anymore."

Yes, the world has evolved since the first guitar ever made in the 1500s, which you some how were given, and lived long enough to tell the tale. He spat in my face, flipped me off, called me a Nazi Fascist, which means the same thing, and told me to suck a dick. That is wonderful language for a family owned music store. I saw that kid there when the man did that. He had a very unsympathetic look on his face.

I saw another costumer freak out worse than that on another co-worker and the boy did nothing. He didn't even care, but why was it with me he seemed offended?

3 days later I was walking home with my sister after dinner, and saw a car crash. A man had tried to cross the street and caused a truck full of sink pipes to crash into a fire hydrant. Somehow the water pressure caused one of the poles to shoot across the street and hit the man right in the face. Everyone screamed. It was a gruesome sight. I couldn't help, but get a closer look. The sight nearly sent me into shock. I could feel small bits of vomit in the back of my throat as I witnessed the man sitting there… The same man that came into the shop…. The pole had gone in his mouth….

A few months after that , I was outside the shop having a cigarette when a girl walked up to me. A prostitute that I guessed was 16 years of age. I wasn't surprised. Stuff like this isn't uncommon around here. She asked to bum a smoke. I told her she was doing enough damage to her body as is. She got pissed, and back handed me in the face. She told me comparing inhaling smoke wasn't as bad for her as inhaling another kind of treat. She walked off. I thought it was ignorant of her to say that. Sperm can't kill you, smoke can… But then I was a hypocrite because who was she asking for a smoke? I saw the kid by a vending machine. He had seen the whole thing.

The next day I saw on the news some building caught on fire, taking 6 lives with it. Among one of those lives was Angela Simmons… She was 16, and had run away from home 2 weeks before that. Apparently everyone was having a party with heavy drinking. A witness said she tried to light a cigarette with gasoline on her hands from siphoning gas out of a car she stole to go to the party. She was a prostitute… I had to take off work from then on. About 2 weeks did it for me. I tried to explain these stories to my sister; she thought I had been watching too many movies.

My night terrors came sometime after those "accidents." The worse was a man claimed his guitar was stolen, and he wanted a new one. I thought he was crazy because he claimed he had insurance. There is no such thing as "Guitar Insurance." I told him maybe he stole the guitar and broke it and doesn't want to go to jail. He left, and then jumped me outside that night saying if I went to the cops he would decapitate me where I stood. He punched me a few times, leaving me there to think about what I said. He got into his car. There were train tracks, and the lights were flickering. He thought he could beat it. Surprise, surprise he got stuck on the tracks. Even if he just kicked the shit out of me, I couldn't leave him. He tried to start up his engine. I started running, because I could see the train… It was coming up fast.

"GET OUT OF THE CAR!!" I screamed so hard, but he didn't do a thing, stubborn prick!

He finally jumped out of the car, and tried to get something out of the back seat. God, if he was really about to kill himself over some guitar, he was crazy. I stopped running as he came towards the shop. Couple seconds later, his car had been leveled by the train. We both started running to avoid the explosion. It knocked us both to the ground, and I covered my head to protect it from any kind of debris. I rolled over to see if he was alright. He was standing right in front of me. He was going to kill me! I tried to scoot back, but I was caught on something. He got closer.

"Now, I have to kill you." He said.

"Dude! You're a freak!!" I yelled.

"It won't take long."

I shook my head right as another explosion went off. The car had flown into a gas station nearby causing it to erupt. We both looked. It was so fast… A shard from the hood came flying by; I screamed for my life, it was coming right at me. The guy moved to avoid it only to get right in its path. It took his head clean off, and stopped the hood from hitting me. His body landed right next to me, and his head rolled off into the bushes. I was covered in blood, and dust. I screamed just from being scared out of my mind. I wanted to throw up, cry, something. I was so overwhelmed. I stood up to run, and out of the corner of my eye…. There he was…. That kid.

I think I fainted sometime after that, because I woke up in the hospital the next day. I was interrogated, but then some how those charges were dropped. I kept having the nightmares over and over again. They wouldn't stop. Something was wrong with me, and it was nothing a shrink could fix… After a month, I returned to work. I didn't want to talk to that kid, so I just ignored him, and finally changed my position to production service. Meaning, I preset everything for concerts. A guitar tech I guess you would say. I would repair things occasionally… But anything to keep me out of the front of the shop… I just wanted to avoid that kid no matter what. Something felt weird when I would look at him… And something terrible would happen every time he was around… That's it… I'll just avoid him…. Problem solved…

Or…. So I thought….