Silent Hill 4: The Not-So Parody-(Reminisces)
On their way down to the lower floors of the hospital, Walter took a small detour to fill up a tin bucket with water. He hurried from the storage room in the main "hub" and poured the water all over his flaming companion, who was jittering around in the air.
The fire sizzled out at once, and Jasper breathed a sigh of relief. "T-T-Thanks, man."
"No problem," Walter said with a friendly grin. "Although I think we'll be better off if I take this with us." He then proceeded to try and stuff the bucket into his coat, but was unsuccessful. Then he tried to run his arm through the bucket's carrying ring, but was also unsuccessful. At last, Walter just decided to put the bucket atop his head.
"Say hello to Mr. Bucket!" Walter said cheerfully, and Jasper laughed along just as stupidly as Irene had earlier.
"Hello, Mr. Bucket!" he greeted.
"…Hey…" Mr. Bucket responded gloomy. "Ah, cheer up!" Walter said. "Enough of this foolishness," Mr. Sock interjected. "We go on." Walter pouted. "Fine… Come on Jasper."
"Where are, where are we g-g-going?"
"Oh, you'll see," the blond replied with a smile, and he led Jasper through a hidden corridor and down a rather rusted stairway. It ended right in front of a golden elevator that had red Chibi drawings spotted all over it. "You see," Walter started, "Henry and Irene and the rest of them have to use the stairs, but I have special access to this elevator here."
"W-W-W-What's the, the difference?"
Walter glanced at him incredulously. "Are you really serious? Uh, well, the stairs are super-duper long! It'll take forever. So we'll just use this, um, elevator. It's real luxurious-like, though! And there's some chilled punch, too!"
"Ooh, I l-like p-punch, but I like ch-chocolate m-milk more."
"There's some chocolate milk in there, too."
"Sweet!"
Walter nodded excitedly and produced a small plastic card from his coat sleeve, and printed on it in bolded letters was V.I.B.. "W-W-What's t-that mean?" Jasper asked, and Walter grinned again.
"Very Important Biotch, Jasper old pal." He slid the card into a slot beside the elevator doors and then thumbed the "DOWN" button. There was a click, a hum, and then the doors opened to reveal a wide, luxurious, completely white suite. The rug, walls, and even the two leather sofas and lone easy chair were white. Jasper was forced to squint at the overall lightness, but Walter, who was still carrying the bucket over his head, entered and took a seat on the easternmost sofa. He set the bucket down beside him, blinked, and beckoned Jasper inside.
"Come on in, dude. Here, have some chocolate milk." Walter stretched over the side of the sofa and opened up a small refrigerator that was next to the lounge, and from it he withdrew a bottle of thick, frosty chocolate milk and a can of diet cola. He passed the milk to Jasper, who failed to catch it. As he scooped it up and sat on the sofa opposite Walter's, the elevator door clicked to a close and the suite steadily began to move. From somewhere unnoticeable, there was a melodic jingling, followed by a professional, soothing female voice.
"Welcome, gentlemen, I hope you enjoy your ride. Would you care for some music?"
"Music, Jasp?"
The charred ghost shook his head, and Walter told the disembodied voice, "Nah, we're fine. Thank you very much, though."
"Very well, then. Please enjoy your ride." There was another jingle, and then whatever source the voice had been coming from went off. Walter sandwiched the can of cola between his thighs, careful not to touch it with Mr. Sock, and then popped off the metal pin with minimal difficulty with his other hand. He took a sip of it and made a rueful expression.
"Bitter, this stuff is."
"Then why, why do you, why do you drink it?"
Walter lolled his head in thought. "Don't know. Never really thought about it, to tell you the truth." In actuality, it was not that Walter liked the taste of the diet cola, but it was Mr. Sock who did. Of course, Walter had no idea of this, but then Jasper asked another question.
"So, uh, why are you, why are you trying to k-k-kill those g-guys, anyway? And m-me too?"
"Kill them?" Walter laid his head back in thought, focusing more on the hum of the elevator's gradual descent than any actual train of thought. He shrugged at last. "You know, I think I forgot."
Jasper gaped at this, and Walter frowned. "Don't look at me like that, dude! It's been, like, forever since I actually thought about it. Plus, I was dead for, like, a couple of years, give or take. Well, maybe I wasn't, but it sounds cooler that way." Walter glanced at the sock on his hand and then said, "Hey, Mr. Sock, do you remember why we're killing all these poor dudes and dudettes?" Walter leaned in close to the sock and answered in a much more sinister tone, "Of course."
Walter: "And why do they have to be sacrificed, again?"
Mr. Sock: "To free… your mother."
Walter: "And, um, why are we trying to free my mother?"
Mr. Sock: "You feel she has been tainted by this world."
Walter: "Oh, okay."
He looked to Jasper. "See, Mr. Sock knows everything!"
Jasper drank down some of the chocolate milk and wiped the froth from his upper lip. "B-But what's, what's the s-s-s-story, the story behind it?"
"The story behind it?" Walter furrowed his brow in concentration, and then elated with a smile. "Hey, I remember that part! Well, we have some time to spare so I guess I can tell you!"
"C-Cool, but, uh, Walt?"
"Yep?"
"I h-h-have to t-take a leak."
"Oh." Walter pointed beyond Jasper's sofa. "The toilet's that way, man. Have a good one."
"T-T-Thanks." Jasper hovered out of the chair and headed for the restroom, but he suddenly combusted. "Ah, ding-dang it!" he cursed. Walter's eyes bulged in horror, and, thinking quickly, he dumped the rest of his cola over Jasper, succeeding only in fueling the fire more.
"Oh, shit."
Finally, after using several of the bottled waters that were located in the fridge, Walter managed to snuff out Jasper's fire, allowing the guy to pass his water. When he returned, Walter had "Mr. Bucket" over his head again and was making peculiar choo-choo noises. Jasper presumed he thought himself to be a train. "W-Walt?"
"Huh?" The blond murderer stopped and, after realizing what he was doing, ripped the bucket off and put it back in its spot, even going so far as to push it away for extra measure.
"Okay, so where were we?"
"Y-Y-You… you were g-going to tell me how, it, uh, started."
"Oh yeah!" Walter took a breath, slapped his cheeks, and popped open a new can of diet cola. After taking a nice, long gulp he smacked his lips. "Alright, so where to begin… well, I'll just start it from when I ended up at the orphanage…"
Walter so-and-so, for his name has been long forgotten on the winds of time, has led a rather odd life thus far. He was born in Room 203 of North Ashfield Heights, an apartment complex in the not-so-medium sized city of Ashfield. His parents—both of them hippies, do it please ya—were enjoying the dying age of the 60's one day and that was how it started. With a bongo in one had and another bongo in the other.
"Yeah, I was born in 1970," Walter told Jasper. "…At least I think. That's what they told me when I left the first orphanage."
In the beginning, he was taken to one orphanage and then another, at least for the initial three years of his life. At age four, Walter was taken in by a very cheery, clear-cut couple named the Masons. They called him Oswald.
"I seriously didn't like the name; it was super-duper awesomely gay."
And while the Masons provided much for the little, four-year-old boy, they soon began to notice his bloodshot eyes, his desire to breath in exhaust fumes, and how he had a tendency to eat many strawberries. They knew something was wrong with the boy, and their fear was justifiable; little Walter was addicted to every drug that existed. Okay, maybe not all of them, but a LOT of them, nonetheless. And so, little Walter was sent back to the orphanage, and when he turned five, they took the now-nameless-boy-again to Happy House, or otherwise called the Silent Hill-Smiley-Orphanage-That-Helps-Mold-Children-All-Over-The-World, an orphanage near the resort town of Silent Hill, but I think you already knew that.
"That's where the story really begins, I think…" Walter said absentmindedly, but Jasper said nothing.
Believe it or not, the orphanage was really a narcotics plant, namely for Marijuana. The children, for five straight hours a day, were forced to work in the fields behind the complex and in the nearby forest to sow and grow the drug plant. The officials of the Happy House, who were also members of the Happy Japanese Club Yes-Yes, sold these drugs and also used them, and the children were also subjected to the drugs. For Walter, an addict already at the age of five, this was like heaven. Of course, he didn't realize it then at such a young age.
When the children weren't working, eating, sleeping, playing, or getting high, they were schooled in Happy Japanese Club Yes-Yes!'s ways and teachings. They were taught advanced educational concepts at young ages, and they were forced to become adept illustrators of Japanese animation. For Walter, who had great talent for drawing, this was heaven as well.
And so, life at Happy House was tremendously good for Walter. He excelled as a student and a junkie, and soon grew to be one of the most talked-about orphans. When the other sections of the Happy Japanese Club Yes-Yes! came to visit the orphanage's progress each month, Walter was the highlight. He was even allowed to watch the rituals and sacrifices that occurred every few months or so. However, Walter, as he would inevitably tell you, does not remember this. It is a blank in his memory, aside from some key subjects. But this story will go on, and while Walter does not remember the following and will skip over it and tell Jasper the current events to speed things up, I will tell you this from the memory of the other entity that exists in the back of Walter's mind, because he remembers everything, and clearly, might I add.
Walter, or perhaps not Walter, was schooled by Father James "Jimmy-San" Stone, the head priest of the Red Rice Cake arc of the Happy Japanese Club Yes-Yes! and his right-hand man, Toby Archbolt. He was to be the "Conjurer", the one who would bring about the coming of the "Happy Place", a utopia where everyone was Chibi and ran down rainbow and ate sushi all day. To accomplish this, Walter would perform the ritual of the "Twenty-One Kanji", which would empower a sock so that it could be used to reshape the world…
To have Walter do this, or perhaps not Walter, they convinced Walter, or perhaps not Walter, that he would be able to be with his mother once it was over, for Walter, or perhaps not Walter, desired to be with his mother very much so. Walter, or, you guessed it, perhaps not Walter, would have to sacrifice twenty-one souls so that a sock of his choosing would be ready for Happy Place.
Again, though, Walter does not recall this. He instead recalls everything else about his stay at Happy House.
"I had a couple of friends," he said while drinking some more soda. "Yup, they were pretty freaky-deeky, though. All the other kids called us the "Stoners"."
"Who… Who w-were they?"
"It was me, Mr. Sock, Alessa, Bob, and Clau—I'm-really-stupid—dia."
"They, uh, ac-actually c-c-c-called her t-that?"
"Huh? Claudia? Dude, they called her a lot worse things than that, let me tell you! Although I will tell you she was, like, in love with Alessa, and I mean, like, you know, lesbodinky-dink, or whatever they call it."
"I g-g-get you, but who, who's Alessa?"
"Uh, Alessa was, like the best Anime drawer out of all of us. I mean, you'd give her a piece of paper, and she'd doodle the Chibi Mona Lisa in like, two seconds!" He sipped his cola. "But, she was, like, super hot, dude! Of course, she was a little older than the rest of us, but that was okay, since she liked me the most anyway."
"You t-two l-l-liked each other?"
"Yup, at least I think so… wait, don't be so loud! Claudia is, like, everywhere…" Walter's eyes literally shrunk in their sockets in fear and he hugged his legs to his chest, cowering on the sofa. The invisible intercom came back to life with its unmistakable jingle.
"Hello, gentlemen, we are now entering stage two of three of the ride. Would you like the transport to undergo view mode?"
"Sure!" Walter answered. "Go ahead!" He giggled and waved Mr. Sock at Jasper. "Dude, you're so going to love this! Watch!" There was a DING, and then the walls, floor, and ceiling of the suite vanished into nothingness, revealing a view of what was actually surrounding the elevator at the moment. Their transport wasn't traveling at the speed of light, most definitely not, but at a leisurely pace that allowed them to take in the sights, which were rather surreal.
The elevator was moving downward through a column which the staircase Walter mentioned earlier spiraled. The staircase itself appeared just like Jasper had imagined it to look like: nothing fancy or gruesome. On the other hand, the backdrop of which the staircase was set was a sight to behold. They were in the air, and the sun was currently setting, or mayhap it was nothing but some amazing illusion. Below them the staircase extended so long that its end was not even visible, although it ended at a gray, obstructed plain, at least that what's it appeared like to him.
Walter finished his current can and snapped his fingers. A small slot in the wall slid up, letting him deposit the empty can. They watched it fall into orange oblivion. The blond belched, yawned, and then screwed his eyes up with his free left hand. "Okey-doke, now, where was I…? Oh yeah, I was going to start telling you about the time when we stole Vincent's graham crackers, and then he squealed on us, but Bob…"—he wiped away some tears—"he sacrificed himself for us, and I'll always love him for it. Here, let me tell you, 'cause everything changed after that night…"
BREAK TIME!
It was a dark, chilly night at Happy House. Children were preparing for sleep; others were playing or occupying themselves with reading or drawing. The adults were busy playing poker, and since this was Poker Night Tuesday at Happy House, representatives from all three arcs of the Happy Japanese Club Yes-Yes! had come. Dahlia Gillespie, leader of the Green Tea arc, and Leonard Wolf, her second-in-command, had also brought along their respective daughters, which they did every week. And every Monday and Friday as well.
Speaking of their daughters, the two of them were sitting around a small, lit wicker candle in the center of a broom closet. They are in the company of two other boys, both of whom are eleven years old. Alessa Gillespie is thirteen, the oldest, and Claudia—ZOMG—Wolf is twelve.
The two boys are Walter and Bob, and they have no surnames. And if they did, I wouldn't tell you anyway. Walter is wearing a long-sleeved, striped, blue-and-white shirt and has his elbows propped up on the knees of his jeans. In his hand is a cigarette, and it is not at all being used. Instead, Walter is busy eating another one of his strawberries, because they are oh-so-awesomely-good. Bob is wearing all black under his black jacket, and he too has a cigarette. His nails are painted black, his lips are painted black, and he is wearing black mascara. The front of his hair is dyed gold, and it hangs over the left side of his face. He is the definition of an emo kid
Therefore, you may not have expected to see a dingy, old sock covering his left hand. Two black beads were sewn into the sock to serve as makeshift eyes, and he is leaning back on this hand while smoking his cigarette with the other.
Alessa and Claudia are not so extravagantly or plainly dressed, for they are wearing their school uniforms, with their low skirts, knee-high socks, and ties. Alessa's hair is tied up in a small ponytail, and she is smoking a cigarette as well, taking drags from it every now-and-then. Claudia is not smoking, for she is working intensely on a drawing using her crayon stubs, and she is making this picture ESPECIALLY for Alessa, and no-one else. And that is why it is ironic that Walter will later take it into his possession, as well as items that also belong to Alessa herself and Bob.
It is now that Alessa speaks, for she is leader of their little club-of-sorts, and she will always remain that way for Walter. She begins with, "So, are we all in agreement over stealing Vincent's graham crackers?" Their plan tonight is to steal the snobby Vincent's precious graham crackers, for he is such a jerk-off to them that it is not funny. All because they are the "Stoners", and they have indeed begun to use the name officially.
"Yeah, okay," Walter responds absentmindedly, much more concerned with biting off the small bits of strawberry that are desperately clinging to the miniature leaves of the fruit.
Alessa drags for a moment and then shrugs. "Alright, that's one. Bob?"
Before Bob can say a word, though, Claudia bursts into giggles and turns her parchment over, allowing them a look at her illustration, which is really just two crudely-done stick figures holding hands with "ALESSA" written besides one and "CLAUDIA" written besides the other. You might find it interesting how Claudia cannot draw, considering one of the key abilities that are emphasized at Happy House is drawing. It is sadly just the fact that Claudia cannot draw, and never will be able to, even by the time of her oh-so-unorthodox death years later, but that my friends, is another story entirely, and I'm afraid Walter won't be addressing it at all. In fact, he has no idea Claudia is currently dead.
She smiles eagerly at her adored friend, who only drags and smiles with such effort that it is painfully obvious she is trying a tad too hard. But Claudia does not realize this—CANNOT realize this—and is only ecstatic when Alessa pats her on the head and tells her it is beautiful, that it is the most amazing thing she has ever seen and that oh—is it really for ME?
"I'll draw you another one, Alessa!" Claudia states happily, and she reaches into the stack of aged parchment behind her to begin anew. Meanwhile, Alessa waits impatiently for Bob's reply, and after an oblong drag on his part groans, "We're not going to get caught, so yes or not?"
Walter neglects to inform Jasper during this part of the story that Alessa is physic, and can easily use her deadly powers to read Bob's mind, and could very easily castrate him, and this why most people should think only happy thoughts around Alessa, and ONLY happy thoughts.
Bob, after another drag finally replies, "…I don't we should do it, really."
"Why the hell not? Bob, I'm telling you it'll be fine. That fat-ass DeSalvo knows better than to screw with me."
"…I know that," Bob said gloomily, "but I mean… what did Vincent ever do to us…?"
Alessa draws in a deep breath in aggravation. "Stop being a little pussy, Bob, okay?"
"Yeah!" Claudia interjects. "Be a big penis!"
"Yes."
Bob is still unsure, and Alessa scowls. "Don't forget, Bob, the only reason I even let you be a member of this club is because you're Walter's friend, and I quite like your hair. So if you really want to still be a member of the "Stoners"…" She lets it hang for added emphasis, and Bob glances at Walter for support.
The blond shrugs and says, "No biggie, man. We'll be fine."
And so, Bob reluctantly agrees to go along with the mission, if only to remain on Alessa's good side, but he tries rigorously not to let this thought go detected by her mental abilities. Next, Alessa asks Claudia, who immediately complies. Anything to please her princess, oh yes.
"Alright, well, now that we're all in agreement," Alessa says, "does anyone besides me have a plan they would like to propose?" Bob takes a nervous glance at Walter and then Claudia, and slowly raises a hand. "Yes, Bob?" Alessa asks him with mock sincerity. "What do you have in mind?"
"…Oh, well…" Bob pursed his lips and then let out some air, "I think we should have two of us keeping watch and two of us actually going in to get the crackers. And I think Claudia should be one of the watchers."
Claudia didn't comment, just kept working on her next masterpiece to present to Alessa, who nodded. "I agree. Claudia can't handle herself under pressure. Not that she can ever handle herself, actually."
Claudia still did not bother to comment. She is most likely not even listening.
"Okay, then," Alessa said while snuffing her cigarette out on the picture Claudia had give her just minutes before. The younger girl does not notice this either, but she will later and wail and ask Alessa what happened, and, of course, like every other response, "Vincent did it."
Nevertheless, the "Stoners" rise and Alessa puts out the candle with a nip of her fingertips. She winces, and something aches a little, deep within her, but Walter does not know of this, perhaps not Walter doesn't even know of this, so he does not relay it to Jasper like I am relaying it to you now. It is irrelevant to this story, though, so we go on.
They leave, and Bob pulls Walter back quickly as the girls go on ahead. His face is urgent, Walter remembers, and that is how he remembers Bob the best. The other boy removes the sock and hands it to Walter. "Walter, buddy, um… if anything happens to me when we go to get those crackers from Vincent… I want you to take Mr. Sock."
Walter is bewildered at first, and he chuckles quietly. "Don't be silly, Bob. Nothing's going to happen to you man, and besides… I couldn't take Mr. Sock."
"Just do it, dude. I've got a bad feeling about this night, anyway… I mean, screw Alessa, screw Claudia, screw them all… We should just get out of here, what do you say?"
"But Bob, dude… I like it here. This place is cool."
Bob shakes his head. "Maybe for you, but it's just not for me. You're good at drawing, and you're good at getting high… but it's just not for me, you get what I'm saying? We're never going to get out of here, you know, and we can't stay here forever. I don't want to become a stupid little lackey of theirs. I want to find my own destiny, and it's not here. For me, nothing is here. You don't have to come, but I'm going to run after we get those crackers. And, if they happen to get me, at least Mr. Sock will be safe with you."
"Bob…" Walter looks down at the sock in his hand and shakes his head, but Bob only grins at him before following after Alessa and Claudia. Walter chokes and skips over some parts while telling Jasper, but I'm going to take you all the way.
Vincent stays at Happy House, but he will later become a member of the Green Tea arc of the Happy Japanese Club Yes-Yes!. He is stuck-up, he is rude, and he is very self-centered. He has no friends, and the one he used to have was sent to the Happy Tower. He was never seen again.
Vincent shares a small dormitory with another child, Johnny. Johnny is extremely obese, and he lacks the ability to read. His bunk is covered with candy wrappers and other particles of food, and it is utterly disgusting. Vincent has the bunk across from his, and it is well-kept. He is currently sitting there. He is thirteen, the same as Alessa, and he his face is like a Christmas tree of blemishes and acne. His teeth are wired with metal, and he is wearing the largest spectacles Walter or Bob or Claudia or Alessa have ever seen. He is reading a novel, "Mary and James in Bedlam", and it is surprising lengthy for a quack kid's book. At least that is what Johnny calls it as he stuffs another chocolate bar into his oily, brown mouth.
"Shut up, fat-ass," Vincent retorts, and Johnny blankly stares at him for a second before lurching off of his bunk and storming out of the room. It is Vincent's foul mouth that will later subject him to the paddle, but he does not care. He feels he has the right. And it is the truth, no matter how you word it. He brushes some of the greasy, light brunet hair that mops his head. That is when Alessa walks into the room.
"Vincent," she says, and he looks up, dazed, at the singsong of her voice. He knows Alessa for what she is—a psychic of all areas, and a powerful one at that—but he, like most of the other boys at Happy House, finds her extravagantly beautiful, and is instantly taken, even if for a moment.
"…Huh, uh… what?" he asks, unconsciously closing his book and putting it off to the side. She is losing her momentary control sway over him, and quickly says what she has to say.
"You're wanted outside, to help with the bonfire. And now, according to that DeSalvo." Vincent groans and glares at her.
"What the hell do they want with me? I'm reading!"
"I don't know, they just told me to come along and fetch you. Get a move on."
"Fine, fine…" He stalks past her, grumbling how stupid it all is. When he disappears around the corner, she leaves the room as quietly as she can and gestures. Bob and Walter, who were watching through the open doorway of the room next door, walked out.
"Where's Claudia?" Alessa demands in a hushed whisper and the two boys exchange glances and shrug. "Curses! Fine, hurry up and go in! I'll keep a look out." They nod and rush in, Walter getting on his knees and Bob scouring around beside the bunk.
After peeking in the pillowcase, Bob asks, "Find anything yet? I swear, he hides them good!" Walter rummages around a suitcase underneath the bed, and he finds the plastic bag of graham crackers crunched and buried under two heavy sweaters. Before he can announce the triumph, however, Alessa hears the sound of heavy boots and Vincent's voice. And she knows that they have been outsmarted.
"Guys!" she screams at them silently, but it is already too late. She can see DeSalvo's uniform out of the corner of her eye and she disappears into the room Walter and Bob had been biding their time in. Bob turns his head and sees them, DeSalvo and Vincent at his side, a snide smirk on his face.
"What do we have here?" Andrew DeSalvo inquires and Vincent grins wider.
"It looks like he's going through my stuff. Hey, Bob, where's Alessa? Tell us where she's hiding." But Bob does not know, and he would of course not have given away Alessa' hiding place even if he did. Why have two of them get caught if he could help it? As for Walter, he is still and as quiet as he can be under the bunk, and Vincent has no reason to believe that he is even there. For now, he has his victory.
"So what are you doing, Bob?" DeSalvo asks, stepping into the room with his heavy boots and nightstick hanging at his side. Bob looks up at him, not really all that afraid. Let his fate come as it will. They all knew the risk of attempting this. Vincent would try anything to get a jab at them. "Are you trying to steal from Vincent, here?"
"Um…" Bob shrugs. "I don't know. What if I am?"
"You know the punishment for stealing, Bob," DeSalvo says. "It's off to the tower. I guess you just couldn't get enough of it before, huh?"
"Guess not."
DeSalvo smirks and grabs Bob's ear before forcefully yanking him out of the room, but he does not cry. Bob is a trooper, oh yes he is.
When they are gone, Vincent, still smiling that awful smile of his, jaunts inside the dormitory and bends down for a look underneath the bed. He sees Walter's shaking form and beckons him out. "I thought you were down there, Wally. But I didn't squeal on you, now did I? Nope, I figured you'd be a bit more stricken if you knew Bob was being taken but you weren't."
Alessa walks out into the open as Walter crawls out, and for now Vincent has won. He looks back at Alessa and shrugs. "Oh well, looks like your operation failed, Alessa."
"Shut the hell up, Vincent," she says, and he does. He knows very well that Alessa could cause him harm, and very painful harm at that. Even still, he turns his attention to Walter, who is sobbing and holding back tears.
"Huh, well, it's not like you care all that much, anyway. But Wally here…"—he chuckles—"he sure liked Bob, didn't you? Yeah, in fact, I bet you hate me now, don't you? It's not like you can do anything, anyway. You two are pathetic. By the way, where's your little brat, Claudia, Alessa? The most mentally-handicapped of you actually found her sense for once."
She ignores him though, reaching out to Walter, actually trying to be sympathetic. She likes Walter, more than any of the other children at Happy House. Perhaps even more than that.
"Forget him," Vincent goes on. "He can't do a thing."
But Walter looks up, his tears stinging his eyes and drying on his beet red cheeks. He slowly takes Mr. Sock and stretches him out over his head, and he is the one grinning now, and this grin frightens Vincent. Even Alessa.
"What's up with you now?" Vincent taunts, trying to keep his hold on the situation. "What are you doing?"
"…You've had your fun, Vincent," says Walter, but he is no longer Walter. Walter is gone. "In fact, I'd say you've had too much fun."
"What?" Vincent is laughing now, but it is a fearful laugh. He backs away from Walter as they younger boy approaches, smirking sadistically.
"Walter, what—," Alessa tries to say, but he holds up a hand and she silences. She cannot read him, and this startles her. Mayhap because she is trying to read Walter, and Walter is gone.
"Too much fun, Vincent. I believe it's time we've had our own fun, don't you? Why should you be the one who gets to cherish these moments?" He chortles, and Vincent tries to escape, but fast as lightning, Walter takes the sock and stuffs it in Vincent's mouth.
Alessa screams.
BREAK TIME!
Walter guzzled a bottled water and threw it out the same slot in the wall. Jasper was munching on some strawberries, and he ceased chewing. "And? W-What h-h-happened?"
"Uh, nothing. I kind of blacked out after that and when I woke up I was standing over Vincent and he, um, had Mr. Sock in his mouth. But as for Bob… I never saw him again."
"S-Sorry, d-dude."
"Nah, don't be. That DeSalvo got his just desserts, let me tell you!" He leaned back and closed his eyes peacefully. "A few months after that, Alessa stopped coming to Happy House, and there was a big fire in town. I don't really know what happened, but I never saw her again either, but I ended up with her hair tie after we stumbled around in a closet. And then I got that drawing Clau—STFU—dia made for her. I used it for a cigarette later on, though, when I was a hobo."
Jasper's eyes bulged in their crisped sockets. "You were a h-hobo? T-T-That's, that's awesome!"
"I know," Walter said. "Some of the best years of my life. That was a little while before I started the murders, too. Although I don't remember them all that well… Anyway, this little girl I met, Irene, she gave me a Hello Kitty!"
"Irene? The g-g-g-girl that, that was w-with H-Henry?"
"Yeah, let's see…"
It was the start of another busy day in Ashfield, and the subway was a-busy-busy-busy. Walter had his own little place near the water fountains. It was nothing more than a mattress and his novelty shopping cart, crammed with as much manga as he could find. At this moment in time he is huddled against the wall in his multiple coats, drawing something on the back of the newspaper he has just recently collected from the trash can. He is also munching on a half-eaten bagel, but that's not the point. He is craving a special cigarette right about now, and he sets the newspaper down to fix himself one.
He has just enough weed, he sees, and that's good, but where will he get the rest? He'll just have to ask Mr. Sock when the time comes, because that's what he always does, and Mr. Sock always has the answers.
He is busy crafting his weed when a little girl wearing a pink vest prances over to him. The collar of her vest is lined with white fluff, and she is wearing a pink, long-sleeved shirt under the vest. She is also wearing headphones—giant pink ones—and is toting around a pink, Hello Kitty rolling backpack. Clutched in her hand is a Hello Kitty doll, and she is appraising Walter with wide, mesmerized, emerald eyes.
The blond man frowns perplexedly at her. "Uh, um… yeah?" he asks, and she giggles.
"You look super-duper funny!" she says excitedly, and he frowns again. "What's your name, mister?"
"It's, uh, Walter," he answers dumbly. "What's yours?"
"Irene!" she replies loudly. "Here, have the kitty Mr. Walter!" She shoves the Hello Kitty doll at him and he recoils, but a woman from up ahead calls out for her.
"Irene, Irene! Stop talking to that man and come over here! We're going to miss the train!"
"Okey-dokey, mommy!" Irene steps away, waving. "Bye, Mr. Walter," she says, and he waves back.
"…Bye…?" And then she was gone.
"A few years after that, I was lying around the nearby Happy Burger, seriously wanting some weed. That's what sucks about being alive—you get those urges, you know? Anyway, I tried to get some…"
Today Walter is lying against the streetlamp on the corner of the Happy Burger, starving and talking gibberish to Mr. Sock. Today Mr. Sock is not responding though, and Walter is puzzled, although not really all that surprised. Mr. Sock has been more and more quiet these days.
And yet, what he needs more than food right now is weed, for he has run himself dry of the batch he stole from the other hobo at the dollar store. It was tough to acquire that weed, and after a couple of days it was already gone, and that was a bad thing, for Walter, who was a heavy addict, his thirst—his NEED—could never be quenched.
And then out a fairytale, his nose catches the familiar whiff of the plant. 'Weed,' he thinks aimlessly, 'nearby.' Walter's sense of smell is spectacular, and he manages to drag his exhausted body up and track the smell down, nearly being run over twice along the way. He has lost his shopping cart long ago, it having fallen down a deep trench. He has no more need for it, in any case.
He finds himself at a construction site, where the new video rental store is going to go, but Walter of course does not happen to know this tidbit of information, and nor does he care to know it. He sees the source of the smell, and elates; three schoolgirls in their uniforms, eerily similar to his friend of old, are standing and giggling and coughing. They are smoking weed, and he will get some.
"Wow, Cynthia," a blonde girl with dual pigtails and freckles says, "how could you take in that much?"
Cynthia, an attractive Hispanic girl with shoulder-length brunette hair, is taking another heavy drag when she shrugs and coughs it out. "I don't know, but this is some pretty freaky shit. Are we going to start snorting?"
When she asks this, the third girl—of Chinese descent, Walter presumes—points out someone across the street. It is a boy their age, wearing casual clothing and holding his backpack loosely. His brown hair is partially tousled, and his expression is intense.
"I think that's the kid that was taking all those pictures at the last football game," the girl says, "against Ashfield High."
"That guy? He looks pretty cute," Cynthia muses, and she half-shrugs. "Let's go over there, what do you say?"
"Why not?" the blonde girl says and they all giggle and drag as they cross the street to see this enigmatic male. He sees them before they even start crossing, and he chuckles silently. Walter meanwhile watches from afar, careful not to be noticed just yet.
"First-timers…" the boy murmurs as the girls near. He was just like them once, and he knows now knows that it's fun the first time, but just totally stupid the next time. The girls approach and he watches them coolly.
"Hey," Cynthia greets while dragging again. "We just kind of saw you and decided we'd come over here. What's going on?" The block is completely empty and silent today, aside from the occasional passing vehicle. The boy cocks an eyebrow.
"Smoking weed?" he asks, and the girls exchange glances. Cynthia was once again prompted to respond.
"Yeah," she replies, and she discovers that is all she can say. He smiles and suddenly plucks the cigarette out of her hand before she can even bat an eye. The three girls watch in awe as he inspects the weed lazily.
From his hiding place, Walter began to salivate. He wants it. He wants it so badly!
"If… you're going to be smoking weed," the boy said monotonously, "you have to do it with a purpose." He drags slowly and they all catch their breath as he then exhales the smoke, and it smells oh-so rich to Walter. He moves the cigarette away from his lips and looks at the girls lazily.
Cynthia was awestruck and speechless, and speechless and awestruck. She has fallen in love with this boy during that drag of his, and it has occurred so fast she hasn't even realized it. She could only take the cigarette back and watch on as he turned his gaze to the sky and sling his backpack strap over his right shoulder. The shirttail of his checkered-white buttoned shirt flaps in the wind, and he sighs. "Well, I've got to get going," he says, and turns. "See you girls on the far side." The mysterious boy that has captured Cynthia's heart in one fell swoop walks off, and she is unable to ask his name, or his phone number, or anything about him. But she will keep the cigarette, of that she is sure, and never misplace it for the rest of her life. For now, though, she squeezes it between her teeth and lips, savoring the taste of the saliva that he has left there.
"…Wow," the blonde girl remarks. "That was… weird."
"Yeah," the Chinese one says, and that is when Walter makes his move and approaches them.
"Hey, um, you girls over there…" The two of them turn, and the blonde has to poke Cynthia to gain her attention. Once Walter has captured them all, he asks as politely as he can, "Would you all mind lending me some of your weed?"
There is silence, and then… "Piss off, you freak!" It is the Chinese girl, and Walter comes to realize he won't be getting any weed today.
"So… you d-didn't get any, any weed?" Jasper asked curiously, and Walter shook his head.
"Nawp, but I have some now!" He pulled out a finely-fashioned cancer stick from his coat, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it with a lighter he produced. As he put the lighter away, he smiled. "And soon after that, Jasp, is when I started with the murders." He yawned. "The first one was Father Stone, and Mr. Sock and I got him back at Happy House. After that, the next two victims were some college dudes who were smoking some weed, too. I don't really remember, but I think I got them just because I smelt some dope, even though I think I was already pretty high at the time…"
BREAK TIME!
Walter goes ahead and starts to tell Jasper what he recalls from this event, but Jasper finds that he knows this story very well. He was, of course, there at the time.
The two college kids Walter murdered turn out to be Bobby and Sein, his two long-lost buddies. The three of them were heavy fanatics of the occult and the supernatural, and when they were younger they would go on "ghost hunts" and "spook-fests". It was all in good fun.
Tonight, Jasper, Sein, and Bobby have driven out to the woods near Silent Hill. They have heard rumors of how the town is the center of a drug ring and the face of a hidden religious community. But that is not what truly spurs them to the place. There has been talk of a "Devil" in the woods, near the old orphanage. They have decided to check this out for themselves, to have one last "ghost hunt". They will have their wish granted.
"I think we're here," Sein says as he straightens out his beanie and puts the joint to his mouth in the passenger seat. Bobby is driving up the dirt road, the headlights barely managing to give them sufficient illumination. He grimaces.
"How should I know? Check the damned map!"
"Yeah, okay, whatever. Hey, Jasp, want some of this shit?"
Jasper is sitting in the backseat, huddled up in his windbreaker, and he shakes his head. "N-Nah, man, I don't, uh, do that s-shit."
"Yeah, okay, whatever." Sein grumbles and fetches the map from the dashboard, avoiding the luau bobble-head girl as he does so. He analyzes it with that stoner's eye of his and nods. "Yep, we're here. Dude, stop the car!" Bobby puts on the brakes and nearly runs over a fox or at least something that looks like one. He shuts the ignition off and they all leave the car, each grabbing a flashlight and switching it on and rubbing their palms at the chilly night air.
"Okay, let's get this joyride going!" Sein shouts out to all the denizens of the woods, and they all chuckle and walk up the path to a rusted metal gate, which they pass through with ease. On the other side, however, is where their trip will be cut tragically short.
An enormous boulder, adorned with the scribbles of children, sits menacingly nearby, and they spot a shadowy figure leave through the gate up ahead. "Who was that?" Bobby asks, and the others shrug.
"I don't know, but maybe we should go see," Sein says, and Bobby shrugs, not finding anything wrong with the idea. But Jaspers rears away, shivering.
"I don't, I don't, uh, think we s-s-should…"
"Why not?" Sein queries. "Are you scared? Dude, there's nothing out here! Besides, I'll just pop out my kung fu and shove my foot up their ass! I'll kick that squirrel's ass, is what I'm basically saying."
"You don't have to come, Jasp," Bobby tells him. "We're only going to go and ask this guy if that orphanage is nearby. After that, we'll come back and go find this "Devil" together. Don't sweat it."
Sein nods and they go off, determined to find this person and interrogate him or her. Jasper is still uncertain, and he decides to bide his time by sitting beside the boulder. He does so, and waits.
A few minutes later, while he is beginning to doze off, there is a scream. He looks up, alert, and there this another, and then a "Help! Someone, help!" and that is all. Jasper is nervous and frightened now, reluctant to go after his pals. He knows he should, at least get to the car and his cellular phone, but someone walks out from the gate, grinning sadistically. His hands are buried in his coat pockets, and he has something white and elongated over his head. Jasper slowly approaches, and the man calls out to them.
"Don't be afraid. Come out! You've come to see me, haven't you? Me, the Devil!" The man laughs the laugh of a stoner, and Jasper runs as he fast as he can out of there and to the car. He takes Bobby's car and drives from the forest, and it's over. He won't return to these woods for almost ten years, and when he does, the Devil will get him, too.
Walter finished the story, but he seemed partially disturbed over it. He shook his head and yawned. Jasper did not comment on it, just continued guzzling his current chocolate milk. Walter stood up and stretched.
"You hungry, dude?"
"Nah, but t-thanks for the, the offer."
"Oh well, neither am I." He lay down on the sofa, propping his feet up on the farther arm rest and laying his head on the nearest one. Walter crossed his hands behind his head and glanced at Jasper. "Uh, so that was that for those college dudes. I killed some more people, at least that's what Mr. Sock's told me, and then I got arrested by the police for murdering these two little kids, and I didn't even know I'd smoked them! I like kids, too, so I was pretty freaked. And they just dumped me in jail, and then I don't know what really happened. The next thing I know, I wake up in this weird world, but luckily Mr. Sock was there to explain everything. He said I was dead, and that I'd still be able to complete those murders, and this time I couldn't be stopped. So, whatever. I go on.
"It was pretty boring for the most part, and about two years ago I stopped killing people, because Mr. Sock told me that I had to wait for some guy to move into Room 203 of North Ashfield Heights. Sometimes Mr. Sock likes to ramble about that room, but I don't see what's so special about it. But I started again, like, yesterday! Mr. Sock said it was time, and I that I had to keep the guy in Room 203 from leaving. And that guy is Henry! And he's a nice guy, damn it, which is why I'm kind of bummed out about having to keep him stuck in there.
"Anyway, you already know how, I, uh, got you, so I'll just tell you about the others…"
Walter has been trailing Henry and Cynthia for the last hour or so, and it is bothering the hell out of him, for he has to pee, and Mr. Sock has forbade him to do so until he's killed the sixteenth sacrifice. "We must wait until she and Henry have been separated, and then we will strike." What Walter does not realize, however, is that Cynthia had noticed him quite awhile back, and knows very well that she is being followed. This is why she has locked door of the control room and reinforced it with a chair.
She is fiddling around with the intercom, trying to get it to work, when she sees him out of the corner of her eye. 'Shit!' she thinks. 'The bastard's caught up. And that useless Henry isn't here, either. Damn it! He could've been my human shield, or something. I know what I have to do to escape, I've broken the fourth wall, and now this guy's going to try and rape or kill me or something. Ah, well, I'll just have to kick his ass.'
He gets to the door, and she finally manages to get the blasted thing to work. The chair shudders and she breathes frantically, "Testing, testing, one, two, three… Okay, Henry, you there? Henry, I found the exit, so if you want the weed come to the turnstile. You should hurry, too. This creepy guy's been following, and I think he wants it, but I won't give it to him..."
Walter, using his "leet" abilities, kicks the door in and blasts the chair across the small room, narrowly avoiding Cynthia.
"Hey, there he is!" she exclaims into the loudspeaker. "What are you doing here?" she demands as Walter nears, glancing around uncertainly at all the stacks of paper in the room. Paper scares him. Anyway, he reaches out towards her with the sock.
"Wait—get that sock away from me!" she screams, and she falls back. "Henry!" she yells, but her hand brushes over the "TALK" switch, and the loudspeaker goes off soundlessly.
"Chill out, chick—," Walter starts, but Cynthia quickly kicks him in the crotch, and he falls over as she scrambles to her feet.
"Take this, bitch!" she cries, and reaches under her skirt for her can of Mace. She viciously pours nearly the whole can in his eyes, and Walter yelps in pain. He helplessly tries to cover his face with his hands, and even Mr. Sock is doused with the spray. Cynthia reduces him to a heap on the floor, and seeing that she has momentarily stunned him, steps over his pathetic form and tries to escape, but he lashes out with inhuman speed and grasps her ankle. "Ugh, let go!" She stomps on his face, her high heel digging into his cheek, and manages to get away. As she starts to run, though, he recovers and drags her back in by her waist. He throws her to the other side of the room, and she is sent sprawling to the floor.
Cynthia watches as Walter takes the sock from his hand and stretches it over his head, and she takes this split-second opportunity to brandish her can of Mace. She is about to spray him with its remains when he effortlessly slaps it away with the back of his hand. "I underestimated you," he says, "but not again. You are much more competent than Henry, though, and it is a shame he has to be the final sacrifice."
"What the furry shit are you blabbering about?" she demands, and he smiles and places a hand on her cheek, even while she balls a fist and attempts a swing at him. He catches it easily with his other hand and gently releases it.
"I am speaking of the ritual, of course, Cynthia," he explains. "To free my mother, you and everyone else will have to die… and I cannot guarantee it will be pain-free."
"You sadistic motherfu-," but he silences her by stabbing her with a switchblade he has seemingly produced from out of thin air. She gasps for air as he stabs her again, and again. And when he is done and over her, he will carve those fated numbers into her left breast, and leave to get something to drink from the vending machine. Though before he leaves he says to her as she lies on the floor, in her own blood, "May you sleep well."
Once completed with that part of the story, Walter pauses to relay to Jasper some irrelevant, humorous, side-notes that are overall irrelevant and will not make a difference to you or me after this is done and you are leaning back in that chair of yours. Now Walter will skip over Andrew DeSalvo's death, citing it as not exciting enough. And besides, you already know how that went. Instead, he will skip on over to his anecdote of Richard Braintree's death, and he, like everyone else, will make the mistake of referring to him as "Richie".
Braintree had followed little Walter out of the elevator and through a bit more of the convoluted mess the city was, eventually ending up at the mid-section of a very long catwalk that extended on up for an eternity. Cursing like he always did, Richard starts up the catwalk and watches as the kid gets ahead of him, for he is a little pipsqueak, and Richard is beginning to go his ways. He is not as young as he used to be, like when he chased that annoying little blond kid with the sock on his head out of the apartment building. Frank never bothered, but it's not like he gave a damn in the first place.
At the very top of the catwalk, Richard finds a door—his apartment's door, and while this disturbs him, he knows that the kid has escaped through here, and he intends to go in and see what the brat knows about all this. He storms in with his revolver trained forward, but is not prepared to see a grown, coated man with a sock over his head standing right before the door. He doesn't even get the chance to fire a single shot.
Walter takes him by the arm and swings him into the chair that is stationed in the center of black-and-white checkerboard-tiled floor. Richard knows that this is the lazy chair he usually eases in, but he soon realizes that something is wrong. There are metal clamps bolted down on the armrests, and he feels something cold touch his temples. He can do nothing but struggle uselessly as Walter locks the clamps around his wrists and then connects the two clamps around his forehead.
"Comfortable enough, Richard?" he asks, and Richard grits his teeth.
"Who the hell—," but Walter holds a finger to his lips and shakes his head.
"Don't waste your breath. Soon, Henry will come and find you, dying in this chair. You may lament on how no one would be able to see you die, but I have solved that problem for you, now haven't I? May you sleep well, but how can you in the resounding chaos I will now be sending you to?" He laughs that stoner laugh of his, and Richard watches on grimly, his heart racing, as Walter switches the power on and Richard feels his entire body light up like a Christmas trees. His bones rattle in their sockets, his skin sears, and he sees Walter—the man with the sock on his head—leave him to die.
LAST BREAK TIME!
"…W-Wow…" Jasper remarked, and Walter nodded with satisfaction.
"Yup, and here we are now. It's been awhile, but Mr. Sock says that the ritual thing-y will be done soon, and when it is…" Walter smiled greatly. "It'll be just like Happy Place!"
"S-Sounds like, like a cool place to b-be."
"It is dude. I've seen it. And maybe it was only a dream… but it was real enough for me." He sighed. "We should be there soon. In fact, I think the ride should be stopping right about…"
Before he could finish, the jingle sounded and the disembodied voice returned. "Hello, gentlemen. We have reached the end of the ride. I hope you have enjoyed your trip, and please ride with us again. Have a nice day."
The intercom went off and the doors of the elevator opened, revealing a dark, narrow corridor before them. What would lead to the subway. "Alright, sweet!" Walter exclaimed as he glanced at Jasper. "Let's go! You can come too, Mr. Bucket!" He scooped the tin bucket up and they departed, but not before Jasper combusted again.
"Argh!"
To be continued…
