Chapter I: Alana's Wish
The endless sky sheltered the world, forever encompassing. Its dank grey presence hung overhead like a flush of nausea. A tall man with dark brown hair walks through the cobbled streets, fog swirling at his feet. He shifts his weight forward, eyes squinted, yet he cannot see in front of him. "Chris…" he shuts his eyes as her voice fills his ears and mind. He pulls a torn sheet of damp notebook paper out of his vest pocket. Scribbled on the sheet in thick black marker, "2 Poll Street" is sloppily written. He crumbles the paper into a ball and shoves it back into his pocket. The fog blankets his surroundings, to the point where he can hardly see a few feet in front of him. The sound of clanging metal grabs his attention, and his head jerks to the left. Rattling cans? A stray cat? He hadn't seen any other living creature throughout his entire half an hour foray into the once majestic town that he remembered it to be. He remembered… nothing. Nothing at all. He remembers vacationing to Silent Hill one year ago to the day. He remembers an enchanting town with a hazy fog that only added to the mystery of the place. He remembers coming with Alana and his neighbors. Other than that, nothing. He shakes his head and trudges on through the fog. The fog, however, was less than enchanting; it was more foreboding, more ominous than he seemed to remember. He lets his eyes close once again, as he drifts into his memories.
"Chris…"
"Where are you, Chris?"
She is lying in her soft bed, her dirty blond tresses falling around her shoulders, her face as strikingly beautiful as the day they met. Yet the once vivacious young woman remains trapped within her bedroom, her frail and weak body sheathed in crimson blankets. She attempts to talk, but can only muster faint hard sounds. Her facial expressions of anguish and depression seem to suggest her eyes will trickle her tears of grief down her cheeks at a moment's notice. Then, he walks in. "Alana, I'm here for you…" He stares deeply into her eyes, longingly. "I'll always be here…I always have. But…I have to get away from it all. Your sickness, my questions, my life…" He pauses to contemplate his past, as hazy as the mists of Silent Hill.
Silent Hill…
The wonderful vacation that ended in tragic agony…
"Why her?" He thought to himself. She contracted the illness mere days after returning from Silent Hill. Day after day, her condition worsens, as he can only watch her fade away from his life. He holds her hand and wishes to hear her voice one more time…the honey coated voice that soothed him, that made him love her even more. The voice that the illness had stolen from them. He hadn't heard her sweet voice since around the time she contracted her disease, and now, more than ever, he longed for her gentle words to ease his soul…
"Chris…"
No…
"Chris…can you hear me?"
This couldn't be happening…
"Chris, please, listen to me!"
She was sitting up in bed, staring blankly at the bewildered man. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, shook his head, did whatever he could to convince himself he wasn't hallucinating. She coughed, but remained staring at him, seemingly glowing with an angelic light. "Chris, you need to get away from here…" "What?" He hurriedly responded. "Chris," she hoarsely laughed. "You've been taking the best care of me that I could ever ask for. I've wasted the past year of my life locked in this house, bedridden, without the strength to go anywhere. And you haven't stopped looking out for me, not for a minute." "You…your voice! ..You're talking! How?" He exclaimed. "Listen to me, Chris. I've been wanting to tell you..you've spent far too much time looking after me. You need to get away from here, get some air, just…just leave this house of sickness and sorrow." She languidly looked to her side. "Chris, I know you've been wondering what happened to the Marins.."
Chris froze as a chill rapidly spread throughout his body. "…Yes, yes Alana. On my time alone, I've – I've been trying to piece together where they went and why, and –" "Yes?" She wonderingly questioned. "Well..apparently, they now live.." Chris has trouble bringing the two words two his mouth. The words that brought so much pain, so much suffering, into his life and the life of his companion. "They live in Silent Hill."
Shockingly, a smile creeps across Alana's face. "Really?" She excitingly responded. "Well then. I think it's time that you took a trip to visit the Marins. Find out why they left." "Alana, I don't know if it would be best –" "Chris," she interrupted, "Please. Do this for me. It pains me to see you worry over me, day in and day out. It would lift my heart to know that you aren't here, that you're out of this dark house..and I really want to know what happened to our neighbors." She curled her finger around the red ribbon in her hair. "Remember this ribbon, Chris?" He shifted his attention to the red article. "How could I forget?" He truthfully didn't remember, but didn't want to spoil the moment. "You got this for me in Silent Hill…and then, on the side of the road, we met that man at the food cart, who also did calligraphy? And engraved my name on it? Chris? Chris..? Hello?"
"Leon and Janit Marin.." Chris thought to himself. "They left without notice, didn't they..why didn't they come back? Why did they leave?" He remembers being close friends with his neighbors…yet the details escape him. What did we do with them? Where did we go with each other? The one memory piercing his mind was the vacation to Silent Hill. What happened on that vacation? "Chris!" she shouted. He shook his head again in surprise as she coughed repeatedly. "Yes?" "You must go, now. I'll be fine. I'm in the care of the nurse..
"…I love you…"
After lovingly saying those words, she seemed to fall back into the diseased state that repulsed Chris, and had disturbed him for as long as he could remember. "Perhaps.." He thought. "Yes, I should go now.."
The endless sky sheltered the world, forever encompassing. Its dank grey presence hung overhead like a flush of nausea. A tall man with dark brown hair walks through the cobbled streets, fog swirling at his feet. He shifts his weight forward, eyes squinted, yet he cannot see in front of him. "Chris…" he shuts his eyes as her voice fills his ears and mind. He pulls a torn sheet of damp notebook paper out of his vest pocket. Scribbled on the sheet in thick black marker, "2 Poll Street" is sloppily written. He crumbles the paper into a ball and shoves it back into his pocket. The fog blankets his surroundings, to the point where he can hardly see a few feet in front of him. The sound of clanging metal grabs his attention, and his head jerks to the left. Rattling cans? A stray cat? He hadn't seen any other living creature throughout his entire half an hour foray into the once majestic town that he remembered it to be. He remembered… nothing. Nothing at all. He remembers vacationing to Silent Hill one year ago to the day. He remembers an enchanting town with a hazy fog that only added to the mystery of the place. He remembers coming with Alana and his neighbors. Other than that, nothing. He shakes his head and trudges on through the fog. The fog, however, was less than enchanting; it was more foreboding, more ominous than he seemed to remember. He lets his eyes close once again, as he drifts into his memories.
"Chris…"
"Where are you, Chris?"
She is lying in her soft bed, her dirty blond tresses falling around her shoulders, her face as strikingly beautiful as the day they met. Yet the once vivacious young woman remains trapped within her bedroom, her frail and weak body sheathed in crimson blankets. She attempts to talk, but can only muster faint hard sounds. Her facial expressions of anguish and depression seem to suggest her eyes will trickle her tears of grief down her cheeks at a moment's notice. Then, he walks in. "Alana, I'm here for you…" He stares deeply into her eyes, longingly. "I'll always be here…I always have. But…I have to get away from it all. Your sickness, my questions, my life…" He pauses to contemplate his past, as hazy as the mists of Silent Hill.
Silent Hill…
The wonderful vacation that ended in tragic agony…
"Why her?" He thought to himself. She contracted the illness mere days after returning from Silent Hill. Day after day, her condition worsens, as he can only watch her fade away from his life. He holds her hand and wishes to hear her voice one more time…the honey coated voice that soothed him, that made him love her even more. The voice that the illness had stolen from them. He hadn't heard her sweet voice since around the time she contracted her disease, and now, more than ever, he longed for her gentle words to ease his soul…
"Chris…"
No…
"Chris…can you hear me?"
This couldn't be happening…
"Chris, please, listen to me!"
She was sitting up in bed, staring blankly at the bewildered man. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, shook his head, did whatever he could to convince himself he wasn't hallucinating. She coughed, but remained staring at him, seemingly glowing with an angelic light. "Chris, you need to get away from here…" "What?" He hurriedly responded. "Chris," she hoarsely laughed. "You've been taking the best care of me that I could ever ask for. I've wasted the past year of my life locked in this house, bedridden, without the strength to go anywhere. And you haven't stopped looking out for me, not for a minute." "You…your voice! ..You're talking! How?" He exclaimed. "Listen to me, Chris. I've been wanting to tell you..you've spent far too much time looking after me. You need to get away from here, get some air, just…just leave this house of sickness and sorrow." She languidly looked to her side. "Chris, I know you've been wondering what happened to the Marins.."
Chris froze as a chill rapidly spread throughout his body. "…Yes, yes Alana. On my time alone, I've – I've been trying to piece together where they went and why, and –" "Yes?" She wonderingly questioned. "Well..apparently, they now live.." Chris has trouble bringing the two words two his mouth. The words that brought so much pain, so much suffering, into his life and the life of his companion. "They live in Silent Hill."
Shockingly, a smile creeps across Alana's face. "Really?" She excitingly responded. "Well then. I think it's time that you took a trip to visit the Marins. Find out why they left." "Alana, I don't know if it would be best –" "Chris," she interrupted, "Please. Do this for me. It pains me to see you worry over me, day in and day out. It would lift my heart to know that you aren't here, that you're out of this dark house..and I really want to know what happened to our neighbors." She curled her finger around the red ribbon in her hair. "Remember this ribbon, Chris?" He shifted his attention to the red article. "How could I forget?" He truthfully didn't remember, but didn't want to spoil the moment. "You got this for me in Silent Hill…and then, on the side of the road, we met that man at the food cart, who also did calligraphy? And engraved my name on it? Chris? Chris..? Hello?"
"Leon and Janit Marin.." Chris thought to himself. "They left without notice, didn't they..why didn't they come back? Why did they leave?" He remembers being close friends with his neighbors…yet the details escape him. What did we do with them? Where did we go with each other? The one memory piercing his mind was the vacation to Silent Hill. What happened on that vacation? "Chris!" she shouted. He shook his head again in surprise as she coughed repeatedly. "Yes?" "You must go, now. I'll be fine. I'm in the care of the nurse..
"…I love you…"
After lovingly saying those words, she seemed to fall back into the diseased state that repulsed Chris, and had disturbed him for as long as he could remember. "Perhaps.." He thought. "Yes, I should go now.."