When I woke up again, I was in a completely different place. I was lying at the back of an old car, and the murky mouldy green on the seat told me that I was regaining my colour vision. However long I slept sure it was a good nap, because the pain in me was all gone. No cracked ribs, no broken arms and no snapped off heads. Guess that's a good sigh.

I sat up to see if I could find whoever or whoever saved me. No nothing. That was when I noticed that the scratches on my body from the fall were gone too. Look out the window; I was semi disappointed and semi relieved to see that the town was still in fog. So whatever happened before wasn't a dream after all. Well, I wasn't sure about the dog bit, but the whole town going deserted was sure all reality.

I reached into my bag to note down what had happened, only touched something solid and cold. Something that I never knew I had. I pulled it out and the back of my hair just shot right up – it was a handgun that I never saw before.

I knew nothing about guns. Well, I could tell a gun from a letterbox, if the letterbox has letters in it that is. Other than that I was as clueless as Alexander the Great about Internet hackers. Not that I need a gun anyway, bullets tend to go straight through ghosts and hit some innocent bystanders. It happened before to a local ghost hunter, and the judge wasn't all impressed about the excuse of "but the ghost was there!" The usage of guns was banned after that incident, and I don't blame PPT for doing so.

Except now I need to learn. Fast. I felt the weight of this thing. Cold, sleek, but it wasn't anywhere near as heavy as I always thought. Maybe it wasn't loaded? After a bit struggle I managed to open the bullet case thing, in my surprise about 6 shots fell straight out of it onto the ground. Gosh, only I actually had a chance to see how those bullets got into the gun in the first place. I'd probably end up shot myself anyway. So I gave up reloading it and stuck the gun and all the loosen bullets back into my pack.

Even though I didn't want to get out of the car, there really wasn't much choice left, considering die of starvation or old age in here didn't seem too appealing to me. That would be too boring. Before I left though, I had another look through in the car trunk. Rude all right but I was sure that whoever saved me didn't want to see me get out and become some sorts of Pedigree Canned Jelly-meat anyway.

Aha, I found a kitchen knife. Not the cutting meat types though, more like the kind you butter your bread with. What on earth should I do with it, offer an attacker a piece of buttered bread? "Excuse mister Dog, please taken the bread and let me through." I don't think so.

There was a piece of plastic stuck out in between the two back passengers seats. I fished it out with my forefinger and the butter knife, surprise surprise; it was a Driver's License.

Name: Harry Mason, Date of Birth: 11th September 1954, blah blah. However the date of expire really caught my eyes. It was June 1989. That was a gasping 11 years ago! What kind of person would carry an expired for over a decade Driver's License! Because of the whole swapping license law thing, he mustn't got a new card. Which means he had either been driving illegally for over 10 years or this car was left here for at least that long.

I'd bet for the latter. Another sigh for not to stay in here any longer. Look on the bright side; my full colour vision was back. I doubt if I wanted that now though, blood usually look less disturbing when they weren't red.

That was weird all right, but what was even weirder was that my cell phone was missing. Instead an old, red radio about the same size appeared in my bag. Just great, wonder what would be on in Silent Hill huh? They named this town Silent hell not for their health. Beggars are never pickers; I took the radio with me anyway, when I thought of what happened with my cell phone last time. It could set off a much-needed warning on time when monsters approach me.

The air outside smelled unexpectedly fresh, just like any other early foggy mornings.

I remember this place.

I had been to this town before, that was right. It almost shocked me that my unforgettable first visit was about to fade off in my mind. That was 13 years ago when I was only 6, and that was the time, I was brushed past my death. Right here, in Silent Hill.

* * *

My family was in Silent Hill for a fishing trip, a happy family holiday. On our way to the forest tramp, we stopped beside this tourist's platform for a rest, as the view of this foggy mountain was too beautiful to be rushed by. I spotted a pretty little bird beside the foggy cliff. Mum handed over me the deposable camera to take a photo of the bird, so I could stick it onto my album. I followed the bird onto the viewing platform where many other trampers rested on, and Mum followed me. Chris toddled to the opposite direction, so Mum ran back to get him.

That was when the badly maintained wooden platform gave away, and collapsed underneath the weight of all those people. I was one of them. We fell for what felt like eternity, then crush landed onto the pebble of ruin beneath us.

I lay on top of the shattered rocks. The world span round and round as it slowly hazed into mist of white shade that blended perfect to grey depressing sky. I couldn't feel pain anymore, only cold. I heard cried of horror far above from where I fell.

So that must be it. Funny that I only realised what happened by that time. What happened after that was entirely beyond me. Apparently because of the fog and mis-placements of the plants made the rescue extremely difficult.

Out of all 16 who fell, I was the only one who lived, the sole survivor. The only downside was that there were no million dollars prize.

***

In theory, after that incident I should be horrified of cliffs or fogs for rest of my life. The truth however, was that I really couldn't careless. Personally I believe that was the way my brain protects itself, by forgetting what has happened until there were enough to trigger the memories. Considering I was dreadfully arachnophobic, not have that many phobias really wasn't a bad thing.

I walked aimlessly on the street, this time with my knife tightly clutched in my hand. I knew something was going to happen, I just didn't know what or when.

Just when I decided to slow down and examine Happy Burgers just for the sake of it, I heard a scream in my head.

The Alley holds what you seek. The Alley.

Could it be anymore vague? As far as I knew there could be more than enough alleys in this town. That was when I heard another sharper and louder screech, from only about 20 foot away. And this time the screech was so real, it could only be human. Aha, that was where the nearest alley lied.

I really didn't enjoy my trip to the alley. Not only the place looked deserted, every step I took the light seemed to be fade a bit. First there were smears of blood on the war. Then it was splats of it. Then there were spots of wall that wasn't covered in blood. The scream sounded louder and louder until suddenly it abrupt into utter silence.

I squeezed my way in even further, trying not to get any human fluid onto myself. Part of me was saying, "leave now!" but my curiosity took the better of me. The silence only made me wanting to run to the other end just to see what the hell had just happened.

And around corner, there was a man lying on the ground, twitching and panting in pain, struggling to get a strange looking creature off him.

That creature made the mad dog looked like a cute little fluffy toy. It was in the shape that could be imagined as an ape if you let your imagination run wild, except it has been skinned and burnt, then left to rot for weeks. Only some bits of brown could resemble something that once was skin, and blobs of pussed up flesh was flung out from its body to every direction. Its flesh on back disappeared altogether, there was nothing left other than the pale and stiff spine bones.

Even though it was rotting away, it was still looked strong and muscular, and clearly it was winning the fight of struggle against the human. He couldn't hold on much longer.

I wasn't going to just let him get chewed up.

I slowly walked behind them on my tiptoes, camouflaged by darkness. The monster smelled like a mixture of rotten onion and ammonia, if I wasn't going to kill it I would've throw a bucketful of deodorant all over it. Wonder if it will ever find a monster-girlfriend like that, poor thing. Not.

It won't have a chance anymore. I thrust my knife right into where its spine showed, and with a silent snap it stopped attacking. It stood there as if it could be surprised over unexpected attacks too, then it collapsed onto the ground, re-crushed the poor bugger who was strained underneath it.

Oops I should have attacked it in a different direction next time. Wiping off my sweat, I was just proud over the fact that I actually did my first kill. Except it sounded a lot wronger when I said it out loud.