Jeremy paused to take comfort and respite in the car's warmth,
knowing it unlikely that any other refuge in this land could be found. Even
through the pleasant heat he still felt chilled over the things he had
already seen; such visceral carnage was slowly adding its weight to his
shoulders. Turning towards the backseat he noticed the metal grating ground
had returned to normal and he watched as the garage door slowly closed,
leaving him stranded on the streets of Silent Hill.
After a few failed attempts at trying to get the radio to work Jeremy gave up and turned to a black box that was wedged between the floor and side seat. Pulling it up and examining revealed a dashboard navigating system, only it wasn't working; rather on its face in thick red crayon was a crude system of lines and boxes. Taking this to be a simplified street map Jeremy deciphered a few ninety degree turns.
Taking the car seemed a better idea than attempting any walking, at least the car frame might offer some sort of protection or warning against these, things. So with the release of the emergency brake, Jeremy pulled into the street cruising slowly through the dense fog.
Dark houses loomed imposing over the street somehow despite their relatively humble sizes, as if perhaps the houses themselves all possessed some sort of overwhelming attitudes. The city's obvious decay was not so unsettling as its lifeless homes and empty streets, no city had a right to be so deserted, and the absence of citizens could only summon the darkest of fears for Jeremy to mull over as he drove.
There were no streets to take save the path directed by the crayon markings. Debris and strange structural defects in the city's buildings blocked all side streets, leaving only a linear path. The car stalled once after turning a corner, inciting a panicked fear throughout the whole of Jeremy as he fumbled to restart the car. At that moment he couldn't even think of anything save fleeing, but once on the move again, he realized he had been utterly convinced something had engineered the event, he realized more than just that, as in hindsight he knew it simply to be true.
The last turn brought Jeremy onto a street bare on either side. Only the lots of future construction, or perhaps wreckage sites, filled his view. Then, deep down the street he saw a small building, and his gut clenched tightly as he arrived.
Jeremy's townhouse lurched over the desolate surroundings. Though devoid of any pleasantries and markings of his existence in that house for nine years, this was most certainly where he had lived. The distance from the police station though was unfathomable; it was simply too short of a drive. Pushing the thought out of mind, he decided to focus on what would be lying behind the front door; survival crossed his mind and he retrieved his goods from the car as he exited.
The curtains were drawn in all the non-boarded windows of the two- story building and the walkway was cracked into rough chunks of jutting stone. Jeremy shivered and for a moment wavered at the end of the path, chilled and displaced. For in all that squalid vacancy, Jeremy felt eroded. He stood there, watching the windows, examining the peeling siding, and peering into the vast emptiness trying to fill the void with effort. Thirty minutes or more had passed before, gripping his pole tight and closing his eyes, he crossed.
Closing his eyes brought their own hazards as he stumbled across the shattered concrete slabs. Memories of him and her arm in arm walking this path and up the stairs to the front door flooded back: Valentine's Day, a random Thursday afternoon, every other Sunday, a sunny Wednesday morning, many Saturdays. Laughing, playful jibs, roughhousing, all the games of flirting lovers converged in Jeremy's memories. Their frank joy startled him in this desolate place. He paused at the steps and opened his eyes then chuckled dryly as he cried.
Making a promise to himself to keep his memories close, he searched for his house key.
After a few failed attempts at trying to get the radio to work Jeremy gave up and turned to a black box that was wedged between the floor and side seat. Pulling it up and examining revealed a dashboard navigating system, only it wasn't working; rather on its face in thick red crayon was a crude system of lines and boxes. Taking this to be a simplified street map Jeremy deciphered a few ninety degree turns.
Taking the car seemed a better idea than attempting any walking, at least the car frame might offer some sort of protection or warning against these, things. So with the release of the emergency brake, Jeremy pulled into the street cruising slowly through the dense fog.
Dark houses loomed imposing over the street somehow despite their relatively humble sizes, as if perhaps the houses themselves all possessed some sort of overwhelming attitudes. The city's obvious decay was not so unsettling as its lifeless homes and empty streets, no city had a right to be so deserted, and the absence of citizens could only summon the darkest of fears for Jeremy to mull over as he drove.
There were no streets to take save the path directed by the crayon markings. Debris and strange structural defects in the city's buildings blocked all side streets, leaving only a linear path. The car stalled once after turning a corner, inciting a panicked fear throughout the whole of Jeremy as he fumbled to restart the car. At that moment he couldn't even think of anything save fleeing, but once on the move again, he realized he had been utterly convinced something had engineered the event, he realized more than just that, as in hindsight he knew it simply to be true.
The last turn brought Jeremy onto a street bare on either side. Only the lots of future construction, or perhaps wreckage sites, filled his view. Then, deep down the street he saw a small building, and his gut clenched tightly as he arrived.
Jeremy's townhouse lurched over the desolate surroundings. Though devoid of any pleasantries and markings of his existence in that house for nine years, this was most certainly where he had lived. The distance from the police station though was unfathomable; it was simply too short of a drive. Pushing the thought out of mind, he decided to focus on what would be lying behind the front door; survival crossed his mind and he retrieved his goods from the car as he exited.
The curtains were drawn in all the non-boarded windows of the two- story building and the walkway was cracked into rough chunks of jutting stone. Jeremy shivered and for a moment wavered at the end of the path, chilled and displaced. For in all that squalid vacancy, Jeremy felt eroded. He stood there, watching the windows, examining the peeling siding, and peering into the vast emptiness trying to fill the void with effort. Thirty minutes or more had passed before, gripping his pole tight and closing his eyes, he crossed.
Closing his eyes brought their own hazards as he stumbled across the shattered concrete slabs. Memories of him and her arm in arm walking this path and up the stairs to the front door flooded back: Valentine's Day, a random Thursday afternoon, every other Sunday, a sunny Wednesday morning, many Saturdays. Laughing, playful jibs, roughhousing, all the games of flirting lovers converged in Jeremy's memories. Their frank joy startled him in this desolate place. He paused at the steps and opened his eyes then chuckled dryly as he cried.
Making a promise to himself to keep his memories close, he searched for his house key.