Silent Hill: A New Terror
Prologue
Dear Brett, At night I try to muffle the screams, the horrible, gut-wrenching screams that pierce to the very core of my being. They reach for me, the arms of fate, that I may return to the place I left so very far behind. I feel them wanting me, needing me, hating me just to pull me back to that horrid place, that. that gateway to something worse than hell, that chapel of never-ending death. Evil and dark were its residents, and even darker was the very soul of the town. Evil beckons, will I take the hand? Do I or not? It wants me so desperately that it seems the place would do anything to get to me. No, I ran from that gathering of hatred years ago. Why would I go back? For love, hate, or something I do not yet know? Something I will find out? Something I have yet to learn. I am human, or am I? I do not know anymore. It seems I have come down with some form of the sickness spreading through the town. I don't believe I'll ever rid my body of the encroaching sickness that's holding me from loving, from feeling. Damn this disease. How I wish it would release its ever-tormenting grasp of my soul. No, not a disease of the blood or flesh. Something much, much more sinister. A disease of the soul it is. Reaches, it does, deeper than any ocean or sea. An enigma in wrapped up in a puzzle, swathed in mystery. It tears away at me, waiting for me to give in. I refuse. I will not. Dear friend do not fear for me, I shall have already passed. My body having already succumbed to the pains that follows the madness. You must go to the town, and you must find the woman I left behind and reconcile my soul, or I will be trapped in the ethereal plane of existence where the dead speak and yell at the top of their damned lungs. You must leave directly after reading this letter, or all will be lost. The only provisions you will need when you depart are your wits, and your courage. The rest will be provided. Please, I entreat you. Hurry. Do not think twice about it!
Your forever loyal compatriot, Donald Raffkin
Chapter Eins Fear of Blood
"This, students, was how the Native Americans raised crops so effectively. That is all for today, you now have," the professor paused to look at his watch, "fifteen minutes all to yourselves." Jayson wasn't paying any attention to him anyway, he was busy putting the finishing touches on his latest drawing. He deftly shaded the leftover areas of the paper and scrawled his name across the lower left-hand corner of the paper. Finished after weeks of work and now I'm done. All I have to do is find something else to draw. He thought, glancing up at the clock on the front wall of the room. He had five minutes of class left to do absolutely nothing, except gaze longingly at the beautiful, yet highly unobtainable Donna Rawlings. Her flowing blonde hair and radiant blue eyes smiled as she and her group of friends gossiped about their present boyfriend. Her face, too perfect for human eyes, her mouth stretched into a small grin as she chirped the latest story of her and her boyfriend's 'expirimentations' as Jayson called them. His eyes slowly slid from her perfectly shaped mouth down to her neck, which bore the chained class ring of her man. Jayson watched slowly as she flipped a lock of hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. His gaze shifted from her ear back to her neck and shoulders. He dared peek farther down and examined her fuschia t-shirt, that accented her shapely body very well. Then, the bell signaled the end of another boring hour of American History. He slowly packed his notebook, pens and pencils into his already stuffed backpack. Jayson stood up, adjusting his muscle shirt, lifted up his backpack, jammed his hands in his pockets and headed out the cold metal door of the classroom. He tromped his way across the campus to his dorm. All the way there he examined the ancient brick walls of his college. They seemed like bulbous monstrosities that waited to engulf every student that may pass through their arches. Before he knew it, he was at the entrance to his dorm. He opened the double door to the building and stepped inside. He walked to the mail slots and shoved his key in the one labeled '4-07' and opened it up. Junk mail, magazines, catalogs and bills were piled hastily inside. He grabbed the bundle of print and slowly made his way to the elevator. He punched the 'up' button and got inside once the door opened. After punching the '4' button he began to glance through his bulbous armful of mail. He sorted through the junk mail until a certain letter caught his eye. Picking it out from the rest he examined it thoroughly until deciding to open it. About that time, the elevator had reached his floor, so he decided to wait until he got to his room to open it. But the letter wasn't addressed to him. It was addressed to his father, Brett Newbreed. Why did it come to me then? He hadn't seen his father for years and now he had some letter that wasn't addressed to him. It was too odd for him to wait, so he quickly fumbled through his pencil-laden pockets, probing for the room key, when he realized that is was already ajar slightly. He found this odd, since he was the only person who had access to his dorm room other than the campus officials. He slowly opened the door, thinking some prowler may have gained entry to his room. Jayson slowly peered around the door, to make sure he wouldn't be completely noticeable as he poked into the room. But to his surprise, nothing was out of place, the computer, the futon, the bunk, the television, the stereo. All there, and in perfect, albeit messy, order. After releasing a heavy breath, he opened the door and threw his backpack carelessly aside. He dropped the mail on the coffee table, leaving the odd letter to himself, and plopped down on the futon like a sack of potatoes. Ripping into the envelope like a ravenous dog he didn't notice the ring that clattered to the rug. Unfolding the letter, he realized that this person must have been in a great hurry. The writing was scrawled across the paper so that it was hardly legible. Jayson began to read the letter, silently mouthing the words and squinting in order to discern the hardly perfect letters. He began to wonder what the man in the letter was talking about, but it seemed like he was in trouble. A part of the parchment had been torn off, and there were tine red specklings and the bottom of the paper where the tear was. Something was glimmering on the floor near his foot, as he read the letter again. After noticing the glare of the shiny object he promptly reached down and snatched up the ring. He could feel something scratch him as he slipped the ring on his finger, so he removed it, and a piece of paper had been inside the ring. Careful as to not tear the paper, he slowly unfolded it, noticing that it was the same tint as the letter. The person who folded the paper had obviously too much time on their hands, in order to fold something this small. The paper read: P.S. Brett, if you have found this inside the ring, you must hurry, since this is the missing section of the map to Silent Hill I have printed on the back of the paper, you must hurry, or all will be lost! Jayson scratched his head quizzically after examining the fragment of paper he had just found. He could barely make out a map on the back of the parchment. He snagged the letter and put the two pieces together with some tape and turned it about in his hands, unsure about the town of Silent Hill. The name rang a bell in the back of his consciousness, but he couldn't tell what it was. He stood up and walked over to his computer, pressing the power button. It took a couple of minutes for the computer to boot up all the way, and when it did he double-clicked Internet Explorer, and waited for his home page to pop up. He typed "Mapquest.com" on the address bar and hit the enter key. It took merely seconds to bring up the site. He typed in Silent Hill and clicked "search". The search was taking longer than he expected, but the results were there soon enough. He scrolled through the various entries until one caught his eye. "Silent Hill: A quiet vacation spot on the border of Toluca Lake." He clicked it, and held his map up next to the screen, he fumbled with the letter until it almost matched the one on the monitor. Jayson printed out the map and directions on how to get there. Time for a road trip. He thought, as he packed a couple of belongings into a small duffel bag. The lake was only about three hours from campus. He shut down the computer and locked everything up, making sure that no one but him could enter the room, and headed for his car. He had mixed feelings about the road trip, but he decided it wouldn't hurt. It took him no time at all to get down to his little 1988 Volkswagen GTI. He unlocked the door, threw the bag inside and clambered in. He hastily jammed the key in the ignition and pressed his foot on the clutch. He turn the ignition and the car shakily rumbled to a start. He reached down and shifted into reverse, and he was on his way.
Prologue
Dear Brett, At night I try to muffle the screams, the horrible, gut-wrenching screams that pierce to the very core of my being. They reach for me, the arms of fate, that I may return to the place I left so very far behind. I feel them wanting me, needing me, hating me just to pull me back to that horrid place, that. that gateway to something worse than hell, that chapel of never-ending death. Evil and dark were its residents, and even darker was the very soul of the town. Evil beckons, will I take the hand? Do I or not? It wants me so desperately that it seems the place would do anything to get to me. No, I ran from that gathering of hatred years ago. Why would I go back? For love, hate, or something I do not yet know? Something I will find out? Something I have yet to learn. I am human, or am I? I do not know anymore. It seems I have come down with some form of the sickness spreading through the town. I don't believe I'll ever rid my body of the encroaching sickness that's holding me from loving, from feeling. Damn this disease. How I wish it would release its ever-tormenting grasp of my soul. No, not a disease of the blood or flesh. Something much, much more sinister. A disease of the soul it is. Reaches, it does, deeper than any ocean or sea. An enigma in wrapped up in a puzzle, swathed in mystery. It tears away at me, waiting for me to give in. I refuse. I will not. Dear friend do not fear for me, I shall have already passed. My body having already succumbed to the pains that follows the madness. You must go to the town, and you must find the woman I left behind and reconcile my soul, or I will be trapped in the ethereal plane of existence where the dead speak and yell at the top of their damned lungs. You must leave directly after reading this letter, or all will be lost. The only provisions you will need when you depart are your wits, and your courage. The rest will be provided. Please, I entreat you. Hurry. Do not think twice about it!
Your forever loyal compatriot, Donald Raffkin
Chapter Eins Fear of Blood
"This, students, was how the Native Americans raised crops so effectively. That is all for today, you now have," the professor paused to look at his watch, "fifteen minutes all to yourselves." Jayson wasn't paying any attention to him anyway, he was busy putting the finishing touches on his latest drawing. He deftly shaded the leftover areas of the paper and scrawled his name across the lower left-hand corner of the paper. Finished after weeks of work and now I'm done. All I have to do is find something else to draw. He thought, glancing up at the clock on the front wall of the room. He had five minutes of class left to do absolutely nothing, except gaze longingly at the beautiful, yet highly unobtainable Donna Rawlings. Her flowing blonde hair and radiant blue eyes smiled as she and her group of friends gossiped about their present boyfriend. Her face, too perfect for human eyes, her mouth stretched into a small grin as she chirped the latest story of her and her boyfriend's 'expirimentations' as Jayson called them. His eyes slowly slid from her perfectly shaped mouth down to her neck, which bore the chained class ring of her man. Jayson watched slowly as she flipped a lock of hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. His gaze shifted from her ear back to her neck and shoulders. He dared peek farther down and examined her fuschia t-shirt, that accented her shapely body very well. Then, the bell signaled the end of another boring hour of American History. He slowly packed his notebook, pens and pencils into his already stuffed backpack. Jayson stood up, adjusting his muscle shirt, lifted up his backpack, jammed his hands in his pockets and headed out the cold metal door of the classroom. He tromped his way across the campus to his dorm. All the way there he examined the ancient brick walls of his college. They seemed like bulbous monstrosities that waited to engulf every student that may pass through their arches. Before he knew it, he was at the entrance to his dorm. He opened the double door to the building and stepped inside. He walked to the mail slots and shoved his key in the one labeled '4-07' and opened it up. Junk mail, magazines, catalogs and bills were piled hastily inside. He grabbed the bundle of print and slowly made his way to the elevator. He punched the 'up' button and got inside once the door opened. After punching the '4' button he began to glance through his bulbous armful of mail. He sorted through the junk mail until a certain letter caught his eye. Picking it out from the rest he examined it thoroughly until deciding to open it. About that time, the elevator had reached his floor, so he decided to wait until he got to his room to open it. But the letter wasn't addressed to him. It was addressed to his father, Brett Newbreed. Why did it come to me then? He hadn't seen his father for years and now he had some letter that wasn't addressed to him. It was too odd for him to wait, so he quickly fumbled through his pencil-laden pockets, probing for the room key, when he realized that is was already ajar slightly. He found this odd, since he was the only person who had access to his dorm room other than the campus officials. He slowly opened the door, thinking some prowler may have gained entry to his room. Jayson slowly peered around the door, to make sure he wouldn't be completely noticeable as he poked into the room. But to his surprise, nothing was out of place, the computer, the futon, the bunk, the television, the stereo. All there, and in perfect, albeit messy, order. After releasing a heavy breath, he opened the door and threw his backpack carelessly aside. He dropped the mail on the coffee table, leaving the odd letter to himself, and plopped down on the futon like a sack of potatoes. Ripping into the envelope like a ravenous dog he didn't notice the ring that clattered to the rug. Unfolding the letter, he realized that this person must have been in a great hurry. The writing was scrawled across the paper so that it was hardly legible. Jayson began to read the letter, silently mouthing the words and squinting in order to discern the hardly perfect letters. He began to wonder what the man in the letter was talking about, but it seemed like he was in trouble. A part of the parchment had been torn off, and there were tine red specklings and the bottom of the paper where the tear was. Something was glimmering on the floor near his foot, as he read the letter again. After noticing the glare of the shiny object he promptly reached down and snatched up the ring. He could feel something scratch him as he slipped the ring on his finger, so he removed it, and a piece of paper had been inside the ring. Careful as to not tear the paper, he slowly unfolded it, noticing that it was the same tint as the letter. The person who folded the paper had obviously too much time on their hands, in order to fold something this small. The paper read: P.S. Brett, if you have found this inside the ring, you must hurry, since this is the missing section of the map to Silent Hill I have printed on the back of the paper, you must hurry, or all will be lost! Jayson scratched his head quizzically after examining the fragment of paper he had just found. He could barely make out a map on the back of the parchment. He snagged the letter and put the two pieces together with some tape and turned it about in his hands, unsure about the town of Silent Hill. The name rang a bell in the back of his consciousness, but he couldn't tell what it was. He stood up and walked over to his computer, pressing the power button. It took a couple of minutes for the computer to boot up all the way, and when it did he double-clicked Internet Explorer, and waited for his home page to pop up. He typed "Mapquest.com" on the address bar and hit the enter key. It took merely seconds to bring up the site. He typed in Silent Hill and clicked "search". The search was taking longer than he expected, but the results were there soon enough. He scrolled through the various entries until one caught his eye. "Silent Hill: A quiet vacation spot on the border of Toluca Lake." He clicked it, and held his map up next to the screen, he fumbled with the letter until it almost matched the one on the monitor. Jayson printed out the map and directions on how to get there. Time for a road trip. He thought, as he packed a couple of belongings into a small duffel bag. The lake was only about three hours from campus. He shut down the computer and locked everything up, making sure that no one but him could enter the room, and headed for his car. He had mixed feelings about the road trip, but he decided it wouldn't hurt. It took him no time at all to get down to his little 1988 Volkswagen GTI. He unlocked the door, threw the bag inside and clambered in. He hastily jammed the key in the ignition and pressed his foot on the clutch. He turn the ignition and the car shakily rumbled to a start. He reached down and shifted into reverse, and he was on his way.