A/N: These chapters have more words in them than some people's entire fan fictions, please don't read it if you're looking for a quick read or anything like that, i'm writing this as a fan novel of sorts, note it's gonna take time to write so much, but I write every night so you're gonna have to wait and see how quickly I can bring them out ., I hope you enjoy it, note:
Konami® is a registered trademark of Konami Corporation Silent Hill™, characters, settings and Silent Hill are © Konami Corporation, I own none of the features of this story that are featured in any of the Silent Hill series, I make no money from this fan fiction and simply wrote this for the fun and sake of writing a fan fiction after taking a long break, don't sue me bro!
*Hates disclaimers*
Enjoy,
Anna! ^-^
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Conversation
My Daddy always told me not to talk to strangers.
I stumbled blindly through the rain, my feet slapping loudly on the wet paving stones as I barreled through the night, my clothes entirely sodden by the torrential downpour. My hair was plastered to my face, falling around me as its normal brown color turned black under the rain's uncomfortable assault.
I flipped what had just happened over in my head, pulled it apart and tried to slot it back together again in a way that made sense, it was like trying to complete a jigsaw with a missing piece. My body eventually grinded to a halt, stubbornly refusing to move any further. I had already jogged further than I thought possible on my small legs, I sighed and began walking at a slow pace, too slow, every so often I would cast a nervous glance over my shoulder and around the street, seeing things in the shadows, monsters, only described in my father's own words, I prayed that I was imagining it. Resting my hands on my hips, I thought back to what had just happened, the acid, a lack of arms, the smell of rotting flesh, my father had written about such creatures in his diary, his bestiary as he called it, I had found it one day after he had left it on his bed, and opened it to discover scrawling and sketches depicting nightmarish creatures claiming to be from my father's own history. The same history that was shrouded in darkness, the same history that he refused to share with me and instead locked away in his drawer beside his bed. I decided that I would pilfer the book from his desk on returning home, the creatures couldn't be here though, could they? I still clearly remembered my father's reaction when I referred to one of the monsters described in gruesome detail in his book, I was young, and went by another name back then.
I sit reclined against the foot of my couch, my favorite cartoon lighting the dim room where I sit, vivid colors bouncing before my eyes as I stare, hypnotized by the show. "Heather.." No, it was... it was Cheryl, I remember finding it in my father's book. "Cheryl honey what're you drawing?" My father says, shifting the legs I lean against to bend forwards and look at the drawings I have sitting proudly in my lap. "Ah.. why.. why did you draw this sweetie?" He mumbles, more to himself, as I look up questioningly into his anxious face. I frown in confusion and look down at the pictures in my lap, the television turning black as I take in the drawings of someone else, on the paper which I had just drawn on. Small children, wielding knives return my shocked gaze as I examine the blood, the rust and the darkness depicted so thoroughly in the hellish drawing. I look up as my eyes begin to fill with moisture, my Daddy staring wide-eyed in horror at the drawings in my lap.
"I.. I didn't Daddy, those aren't mine, I didn't draw them Daddy, I didn't, I didn't!" I stammer, where are my drawings? The drawings of me and my daddy and mommy as a family, why is this drawing in their place, and why is daddy so scared? It isn't like him at all. The television bursts into life, a crackling noise flooding out from it and into our room as Daddy's head snaps up to stare wide-eyed at the television where my cartoons were seconds ago. I determine that it must be snow, the noise growing louder as I stare in wonder and confusion at the dancing screen. "Daddy..." I mumble, reaching behind me and tugging his trouser leg without looking away from the television. "Daddy, the TV is snowing."
"Hey Cheryl sweetie, how about we go into the other room for a second? You wanna sleep all warm with Daddy tonight?" I nod absently, fixated by the snowy patterns dancing across the screen. "Well let's go then, Daddy will read you a story, that sound good?" I nod again, unmoving as I sit still staring at the screen, the strange sound slowly growing in my ears as I lean towards the dancing patterns and reach out my hands. Daddy snatches me up abruptly, tearing my eyes away from the screen and covering my ears, the sound fading in an instant as the world turns black and I fall into.. sleep? I open my eyes and squint around my room, it's Daddy's room, I bounce slightly and let myself sink back into Daddy's bed, closing my eyes again. But where is Daddy? My eyes burst open again as I search frantically for my Daddy, only to find him sitting next to me on the edge of his bed, a small book in his hands as he talks quietly into the phone. "No, you gave me your word you would stay away until the time comes, leave us in peace for the little time you granted us." My Daddy sits in silence for a while, bending over his book before letting out an exasperated sigh. "She drew the children, Douglas, yes, i'm sure, no, the drawer has never been opened before by anyone except me, no you listen Cartland, my daughter,"- Me?- "has never seen inside that drawer. No, I could care less what you do for a living, I know my daughter and know she would never look without asking, no, she hasn't seen it, yes we both know." A long silence draws out as Daddy sits in silence, he sighs deeply and I hear his voice shake, thick with tears when he next speaks, "Alessa is surfacing again, Douglas". Alessa? What is Alessa? I reach out to pat my Daddy, hug him and let him know i'm still here, protect him from whatever the Alessa is as he stands up from the bed, drops the phone onto his cupboard and walks out of the room ruffling his hair with his hand. Daddy was talking about me, but what's Alessa I wonder as I let my hands drop. Am I an Alessa? Is Daddy an Alessa? Who was he talking to? I blink sleepily at the roof and roll onto my side to see Daddy's book lying closed in front of my nose. My curiosity growing, I open up the book and stare blankly at the alien words scrawled onto the yellowing pages. I flick through the pages of the book and take in strange pen drawings of people and a big lizard and.. knife-wielding children.
If this truly was the same thing as what was described in my father's book, why was it here? On the second occasion I made a grab for my father's diary, I read of a sleepy town, called.. Sleepy Hollow.. Quiet Hollow.. Silent.. Silent Hill. I blinked as something opened in my mind, I remembered mist, mist and ash, for a brief second before the memory faded away to the depths of my mind, hiding from my prying memory. I shook my head and picked up my original train of thought. Why were the monsters here? They belonged in my father's world, in his... my.. our nightmares, not in the real world outside of our vague memories, outside of the book that held these monsters' descriptions so vividly.
Why were the streets still empty?
Even at this time of night in this weather, the roads should be full, at least I would have seen a car by now, and the weather patterns, the rain had stopped as suddenly as the creature had made itself known, yet now it was returning to its steady barrage from the heavens.. ironic when I think back. As a lightning bolt cracked across the sky, dissecting the black sky across the middle, seemingly affirming the fact that yes, it was raining, a thought occured to me. I took out my earphones form my pocket and stared curiously at them, studying them closely to spy out anything out of the ordinary, I found nothing. But the way they had acted before.. was that similar to what my father had described? He had written that his radio reacted strangely when any of these creatures grew near, emmitting static not so different in nature to that of EVP, or the space between established radio stations. Is that what these creatures were? Dark spaces between the civilised areas of life? I shook my head and rounded a corner, finding myself warily peeking around it before reluctantly dragging the rest of my body around afterwards.
I was only a few blocks away from home now, maybe I should confront my father about what had happened, about his diary. I could simply act inquisitive to the point where he took my subtle probings for something serious. I looked, stupidly, left and right before crossing the road, only realising after I made my crossing that looking was both fruitless and moronic, the streets were still empty, no sound could be heard over the rain except my lone footsteps, what was happening, why were the streets empty, and why was the world of my nightmares, the world of that town, seeping through the cracks between worlds and joining with my own. So many questions whirled around inside my head, I finally settled on a summary, the single selfish question: Why me?
I cautiously rounded the corner to my home, glancing in each direction in turn before allowing my gaze to fall on the apartment placed before me. A rusting stairwell led the way up to our front door, the top floor of the house, at least it had a view. I saw a flickering light bouncing across the ceiling of my home from my vantage point in the street, the color changed and I heard the faint din of canned laughter, so my old man was watching television. I laughed then, despite myself, it felt good to let off a little steam, make a noise to prove to myself I was still there, still substantial. I stopped at the curb and, leaving habit unbroken, checked the road before darting swiftly across, I examined the front wall of the house, the vines gaining ground as they crawled, away from the earth towards our window, I thought they complimented the house, my father couldn't wait to call someone in to cut them down, the folks who owned the place wouldn't let him but I was sure he would find a ladder and a knife or something and do the job himself. As I drew closer to the house, I saw someone standing beneath the canopy outside the ground floor apartment, the landlord's home. Was that him? His wife? Whoever it was stood with a certain cast, standing totally motionless against the shadows, stooping over slightly as if yearning to be in the rain. As I passed, I smiled uncertainly in the direction of the figure, lifting my foot to climb the stairs as a rasping, cracked voice spoke out from the shadows, "You're late, Heather".
I froze, the world turned silent, did the rain stop again? Surprised, I dropped my foot with more force than I intended, my foot falling down against the rusted step, sending out a resonating clang throughout the silent air. I wiped the moisture from my eyelids and blinked rapidly, spinning around to face the wall and taking a quick sidestep into view of the shadows. Heather.. noone called me by that name anymore, that is, no-one here knew me before I moved to Richmond. I squinted into the shadows, conscious of the water dripping off me and rapidly collecting on the concrete at my feet. The figure stood motionless as before, stooped over as if from a hunched back, or the strains of old age. I swallowed and cleared my throat as quietly as possible, if my name wasn't Heather I wouldn't be acting nervous at all, Harry had taught me the secrets of reading, and expressing, messages through body language, I straightened and pulled together what I hoped was a confused expression. "I-i'm sorry, I think you mistake me for someone else, my name's Anna? I live in the apartment just up there," I pivoted slightly and pointed back towards the door I so longed to rush to. "On the top floor." I turned back and uttered an almost inaudible squeak as the person's face jutted out from the shadows into mine. I took a wary step backwards and had no need to change my facial expression to startled, shakily taking in her wrinkled features, her wide glaring eyes boring into mine, the whites shining through the darkness. "You startled me," I breathed. "I'm sorry, was it a Heather you were looking for? Are you sure you're at the right place?" I said, motioning to my waiting home. The face contorted into what appeared to be a grim smile, almost apologetic I added with dismay. "I'd be happy to help you if you're lost, point you in the right direction?" Perhaps my code for "Get the hell out of my face you old hag" was just a little too obvious, she lifted her chin defiantly and looked at me across the bridge of her wrinkled nose.
"The space between our worlds has closed, and you are here to ensure it stays that way, Heather- Cheryl.. Mason, and I am here to ensure you carry out your duty" She rasped, seemingly gauging my reaction, it must have appeared relatively lost. "Don't you understand, child? Your bonds in this world are gone, you have no reason to stay in this desolate wasteland you call a home, there is nothing here for you anymore" Her face contorted into a hard mask of grief, and anger, had I offended her? What was she talking about my duty? I had no duty, my life was devoted to hiding, and living. "You must fill your heart with hatred," She spat, appearing to be angering herself with her own words. "Fill your heart with hatred Heather, and you will become the one who will lead us to Paradise with blood stained hands." I feigned, no, expressed horror, what did I have to do with any of this? Was I a catalyst of some sort? I thought back but could see nothing that I could have done to trigger the appearance of the monster, and of this unnerving woman, my life was just too commonplace of late, I had been beginning to find it annoying, but I would do anything to trade this life back for what I had then. "I'm sorry but I think you have the wrong person, my name is Anna, Anna Wolfe, I don't know what world you speak of, or which nerd convention you escaped from, but please return to it because I have neither the time or the patience tonight," I spat, turning to the stairwell as I became more irritated with each word I spoke. "My father is waiting for me, I hope you find whoever it is you're looking for".
"Is he, Heather? Is Harry really waiting for you? What makes you so sure child, you cannot run from your fate, you are a pawn in this game, and you will play it out to the end, no matter how far you run". I let out a low growl, what did she mean by that, of course he was waiting for me, most likely regretting even now that he neglected to give me a ride home, what did she know? She was just some old hag, a well-informed hag but just a hag all the same. This in mind, I span to face the woman, about to share my thoughts, when she interrupted the oncoming barrage with what I least expected, taking me by surprise. "My name is Claudia, Claudia Wolf, we share a same name and so much more, but you will come to learn that with time, remember my name well, for you shall need it when the time is upon us."
With a dread looming in the air between us, she turned and sunk back into the shadows, her form seeming to disperse and become one with the shadow, I shivered and turned to the stairs. Finally I could get inside, get dry and, I decided, demand some answers from my father. I took a step and looked up, startled as a drop of something cold dropped onto my shoulder. It was raining again? But how? The rain had just stopped. I gave up on finding a logical explanation and turned my attention to the stairwell, slowly trudging against the rain towards my door. Only when I was a few steps from the summit of my climb did I see an ugly knife protruding from the wooden door to my home. I froze on the step, my leg tensed to pull me up onto the next step as I took in a thin scarlet streak along the sharp side of the cruel implement, the sound of rainfall suddenly appeared louder, weightened, as each tiny impact felt like a frozen fist colliding with me, the indistinguishable patter of each individual drop of rain drumming and reverberating against each surface they hit. The knife had been used, recently and most likely in the vicinity, was my father okay?
The hag's words returned to play back inside my head, Is Harry really waiting for you?, I swallowed deeply and forced myself to take one step after another, reaching the landing after what felt like an eternity. I wrapped my hand uncertainly around the blade's handle and eased the knife silently from the door. I quickly inspected the knife, the handle was bound in a smooth black leather of some form, the blade was sharp and there was no mistaking the thin line of blood that occupied that particular sharp side of it. I swallowed again and forced myself to turn the blade over, being careful not to injure myself in the process, and was rewarded by seeing a foreign language, japanese? Runes of some form, characters, carved into the side of the blade itself, it appeared to be some form of ritual knife or at least an ornamental blade, the care and precision put into the knife were certainly not something to be found in a kitchen. Satisfied with my examination, I returned my thoughts to the door and made an attempt to calm myself down. Dad is fine, why should I be listening to some senile old hag most likely living in the streets on our doorstep, what do I care what she says and how would she know how the hell Harry was at the time.
I raised the knife warily, most likely only to still my shaking nerves, and curled the fingers of my spare hand around the door handle, pulling it down and outwards to find the door locked from the inside as I heard the chain rattle from inside the room. Well that settled it, the door was locked, no-one can possibly climb a sheer wall to the window, besides they were probably locked.. I sidestepped and leant out across the railing to check, they were locked, the latches on the inside of the windows proving to be closed, no-one could have gotten into the house unless they hired Santa to do their dirty work or something. I shifted my weight back onto the landing and onto one foot, stooping to lift up the doormat and find the thin piece of plastic I left there when I went out. It was a precaution in case Harry was asleep or too drunk to answer the door. Picking up the plastic, I carefully slid it through the gap between the door and its frame, sliding it down slowly until I met the resistance of the chain holding the door shut, I pulled back the plastic and, noting the position of the chain, rammed the thin sheet head-on into it, hearing the slide of the chain as it slackened considerably. I repeated the movement again, this time being confronted with a strong resistance, the chain was almost out. I tilted the card to one side and pushed again, this time rewarded by the chain dropping from its catch and falling against the wall. I lifted up the mat again and dropped the card below it, re-centering the mat to aline with the dry spot on the floor. I stood back up and returned my attention to the looming door and, taking a deep breath, pulled the door open and stepped inside...
