Disclaimer: All right, here goes the legal bullshit: I don't own Silent Hill, Konami does. I don't pretend to own the idea of Silent Hill, I'm just another god damned fan who likes to write. Please don't publish this without my permission, and if you ask for my permission, I will most likely give it to you, but if you don't, I'll sue your ass ^_^...capiche?
Even as the car flipped over I thought that this wasn't the way to die. I heard the steel grinding against the asphalt and I waited, as if when the car came to a stop, it would be right side up again. The screeching never stopped, the sound tore through me violently as pieces of glass shattered all around me. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the noise and the pain, but it was no use. I kept waiting for the world to shut out, waited for the final moment when all senses were snuffed out; but it never came.
When I opened, I found myself strapped helplessly to a gurney. Leather straps were bound across my chest; an IV was in my arm, and a bandage around my bleeding forearm. I struggled against the restraints to no avail, finally collapsing with the effort. Replacing my attempts at brawn with brains, I started screaming madly for help, screaming at the top of my lungs. Still, no help came, so I just waited.
Blackness again overtook me, sucking me into its cold arms, engulfing me with its anger. I cried in terror in that darkness, the very life of me sucked out through my head it seemed. All I can really remember is a speck of light in the distance before my reality suddenly fused with this nightmare.
I was brought back into this world by the cold hand of someone. It felt wet, slimy almost, like a body that had been underwater for far too long. I shuddered with the thought, memories surfacing to my mind like vicious undercuts from an invisible opponent. When I finally opened my eyes, this attacker, or whatever it had been had disappeared. I was sitting upright in what appeared to be a gas station.
Getting to my feet, I looked around for signs of life; there was no one at all. I shrugged, assuming that my rescuer must have gone off for help or something. I looked over the counter and noted a bloody crowbar that sat on the counter. I touched it as I walked past, and then, thinking that it might have been a good idea, grabbed it. Obviously there had been a struggle, and maybe the crowbar was left for me in the first place.
I continued to search the place until I stumbled upon something, a black pocket radio. Switching it on, I fiddled with the preset channels in the thing (it looked like a fairly expensive do-hickey from the LCD display and the brand name logo upon it). Instead of music, or news for that matter, I only got static. It was almost like a low hum, as if there wasn't even enough radio signals in the place to make white noise.
I pocketed the radio as well as the cash I found in the register. It wasn't as if I was going to leave any cash, no matter how bloodstained, lying around. After all, life on the street did things to people, and it had made me a thief. The police had always asked me why I became a thief, the only answer I could give was that it was how I was raised, and how I'd probably die.
As I walked out onto the street, I looked up to see a sign along the road, reading "Welcome to Silent Hill." I shrugged and walked down the road a ways, hoping I could find a car to jack, or maybe even someone to talk to. I think at the moment, the latter was in my mind the most; I was getting a little crazed from having no one to talk to.
My journey was cut off, however, by an awful noise from the radio in my pocket. I pulled it out of my jacket, cussed, and turned it off promptly. It ceased to whine, but I heard something moving to my left that made me bring the crowbar up into my hands. I could see a shadow coming through the fog ahead of me, but I couldn't tell who, or what it was just yet.
"Who's there?" I shouted into the mist that seemed to be getting thicker and thicker. It made me want to shiver, to cower, to roll into a little ball and scream. It frightened me beyond anything else, and this figure approaching me made me want to charge blindly and beat it to death. Instincts from long ago kicked in and a quiet snarl escaped my lips as the figure stumbled toward me.
As the figure came into view I immediately noticed two things: one, it was severely disfigured, and two, it seemed to like me very, very much. It groaned as it approached me and I backed several paces away. The thing, whatever it was, had an abundance of arms, lots of arms in fact. I tried to count them, one, two, three-but it's groans and screams distracted me from that simple action.
"Y'know, they say plastic surgery can fix anything," I whimpered as it approached me, those multiple arms reaching out for me. The thing had no head, only arms, and a torso. It was using a pair of longer arms as legs, and even those were seemingly skinless and perverse.
I gulped down a lump in my throat as the groans became louder, and suddenly the thought appeared in my head: it has no mouth, how is it making noise? That, unfortunately was answered almost immediately when from what I had taken as a wrinkle in its disgusting skin tore apart to reveal a gaping maw filled with jagged edged teeth. Blackness seemed to be all that was inside the creature's newly formed "mouth" and I backed away even further, still groping the crowbar in my hand.
"Chriiiistinne," it moaned as it approached me, and I nearly dropped the crowbar in shock. It knew my name, somehow, it knew me. I stammered as it came closer, those arms groping for me, those hideous limbs trying to drag me to my doom. I felt one of the lower arms clasp around my calf and I swung the crowbar blindly, screaming.
The crowbar was caught by one of the other arms as more grabbed a hold of me, pulling me close to the disgusting maw. The creature's skin against mine made me want to puke, it's hands groping at my head, pulling against my clothes, my hair, crusty nails digging into my skin. I screamed in terror, thrashing around, but it was no use, the creature had a firm hold on my body. I was forced up against the bloody torso and I felt the sharp teeth graze against my shirt.
I thrashed desperately as I finally freed one arm, pushing against the creature, listening to it howl in anger. My hand slipped against its sticky flesh and I felt my hand slip into the vicious hole of its mouth. Before I could retract my arm, though, the mouth shut tight around my arm. I let out a cry and finally freed my other arm, prying the creature's mouth open as it attempted to chew up my arm Finally getting my hand out from it's mouth, covered in it's foul smelling saliva and blood, I dove for the crowbar that it had dropped when it realized that it wasn't meat. As soon as I got the cold metal in my hand, I felt as if something else was in my spot, something as vicious as this many-armed freak.
I began to beat it viciously with the crowbar, grinning maliciously every time it hit the rotten flesh of the creature. THWACK! THWACK! The crowbar made a disgusting sound every time it hit, breaking bones and tearing apart flesh. Finally I subdued the beast to the ground, and with a guttural yell, I began to kick at it, stomping it into hamburger on the pavement.
"TAKE THAT YOU FUCKING MONSTER!!!" I screamed as I beat it, knowing it was already dead, but sanity was past me. I kept beating and beating it, turning the already smashed carcass into a splatter of blood on the pavement. It was only after I had finally gotten worn out from all the screaming, stomping, kicking and smashing that I stopped, bloody hands on the knees of bloody trousers, panting and wheezing.
"God damn...monster...nobody...messes with...me," I panted, straightening finally. The crowbar in my hand was soaked in blood, bits of bone and flesh sticking along with the gooey crimson substance. I turned away from the carcass and vomited, the sour liquid spilling from my lips giving the concrete a nice greenish hue. Wiping my mouth, I turned and walked down the road, pulling the radio out of my pocket.
"Last time this thing went off, that ugly bastard attacked me, so maybe-" I paused, flipping the switch of the radio back on only to hear nothing. "That means that it somehow warns me of the monster?" I said to myself, walking down the road, pocketing the radio again. I wiped some sweat off my head, only succeeding in getting my forehead bloody. Cussing, I walked down the street more, hoping that somewhere in Silent Hill there was more than just demons that were somehow familiar to me.
Even as the car flipped over I thought that this wasn't the way to die. I heard the steel grinding against the asphalt and I waited, as if when the car came to a stop, it would be right side up again. The screeching never stopped, the sound tore through me violently as pieces of glass shattered all around me. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the noise and the pain, but it was no use. I kept waiting for the world to shut out, waited for the final moment when all senses were snuffed out; but it never came.
When I opened, I found myself strapped helplessly to a gurney. Leather straps were bound across my chest; an IV was in my arm, and a bandage around my bleeding forearm. I struggled against the restraints to no avail, finally collapsing with the effort. Replacing my attempts at brawn with brains, I started screaming madly for help, screaming at the top of my lungs. Still, no help came, so I just waited.
Blackness again overtook me, sucking me into its cold arms, engulfing me with its anger. I cried in terror in that darkness, the very life of me sucked out through my head it seemed. All I can really remember is a speck of light in the distance before my reality suddenly fused with this nightmare.
I was brought back into this world by the cold hand of someone. It felt wet, slimy almost, like a body that had been underwater for far too long. I shuddered with the thought, memories surfacing to my mind like vicious undercuts from an invisible opponent. When I finally opened my eyes, this attacker, or whatever it had been had disappeared. I was sitting upright in what appeared to be a gas station.
Getting to my feet, I looked around for signs of life; there was no one at all. I shrugged, assuming that my rescuer must have gone off for help or something. I looked over the counter and noted a bloody crowbar that sat on the counter. I touched it as I walked past, and then, thinking that it might have been a good idea, grabbed it. Obviously there had been a struggle, and maybe the crowbar was left for me in the first place.
I continued to search the place until I stumbled upon something, a black pocket radio. Switching it on, I fiddled with the preset channels in the thing (it looked like a fairly expensive do-hickey from the LCD display and the brand name logo upon it). Instead of music, or news for that matter, I only got static. It was almost like a low hum, as if there wasn't even enough radio signals in the place to make white noise.
I pocketed the radio as well as the cash I found in the register. It wasn't as if I was going to leave any cash, no matter how bloodstained, lying around. After all, life on the street did things to people, and it had made me a thief. The police had always asked me why I became a thief, the only answer I could give was that it was how I was raised, and how I'd probably die.
As I walked out onto the street, I looked up to see a sign along the road, reading "Welcome to Silent Hill." I shrugged and walked down the road a ways, hoping I could find a car to jack, or maybe even someone to talk to. I think at the moment, the latter was in my mind the most; I was getting a little crazed from having no one to talk to.
My journey was cut off, however, by an awful noise from the radio in my pocket. I pulled it out of my jacket, cussed, and turned it off promptly. It ceased to whine, but I heard something moving to my left that made me bring the crowbar up into my hands. I could see a shadow coming through the fog ahead of me, but I couldn't tell who, or what it was just yet.
"Who's there?" I shouted into the mist that seemed to be getting thicker and thicker. It made me want to shiver, to cower, to roll into a little ball and scream. It frightened me beyond anything else, and this figure approaching me made me want to charge blindly and beat it to death. Instincts from long ago kicked in and a quiet snarl escaped my lips as the figure stumbled toward me.
As the figure came into view I immediately noticed two things: one, it was severely disfigured, and two, it seemed to like me very, very much. It groaned as it approached me and I backed several paces away. The thing, whatever it was, had an abundance of arms, lots of arms in fact. I tried to count them, one, two, three-but it's groans and screams distracted me from that simple action.
"Y'know, they say plastic surgery can fix anything," I whimpered as it approached me, those multiple arms reaching out for me. The thing had no head, only arms, and a torso. It was using a pair of longer arms as legs, and even those were seemingly skinless and perverse.
I gulped down a lump in my throat as the groans became louder, and suddenly the thought appeared in my head: it has no mouth, how is it making noise? That, unfortunately was answered almost immediately when from what I had taken as a wrinkle in its disgusting skin tore apart to reveal a gaping maw filled with jagged edged teeth. Blackness seemed to be all that was inside the creature's newly formed "mouth" and I backed away even further, still groping the crowbar in my hand.
"Chriiiistinne," it moaned as it approached me, and I nearly dropped the crowbar in shock. It knew my name, somehow, it knew me. I stammered as it came closer, those arms groping for me, those hideous limbs trying to drag me to my doom. I felt one of the lower arms clasp around my calf and I swung the crowbar blindly, screaming.
The crowbar was caught by one of the other arms as more grabbed a hold of me, pulling me close to the disgusting maw. The creature's skin against mine made me want to puke, it's hands groping at my head, pulling against my clothes, my hair, crusty nails digging into my skin. I screamed in terror, thrashing around, but it was no use, the creature had a firm hold on my body. I was forced up against the bloody torso and I felt the sharp teeth graze against my shirt.
I thrashed desperately as I finally freed one arm, pushing against the creature, listening to it howl in anger. My hand slipped against its sticky flesh and I felt my hand slip into the vicious hole of its mouth. Before I could retract my arm, though, the mouth shut tight around my arm. I let out a cry and finally freed my other arm, prying the creature's mouth open as it attempted to chew up my arm Finally getting my hand out from it's mouth, covered in it's foul smelling saliva and blood, I dove for the crowbar that it had dropped when it realized that it wasn't meat. As soon as I got the cold metal in my hand, I felt as if something else was in my spot, something as vicious as this many-armed freak.
I began to beat it viciously with the crowbar, grinning maliciously every time it hit the rotten flesh of the creature. THWACK! THWACK! The crowbar made a disgusting sound every time it hit, breaking bones and tearing apart flesh. Finally I subdued the beast to the ground, and with a guttural yell, I began to kick at it, stomping it into hamburger on the pavement.
"TAKE THAT YOU FUCKING MONSTER!!!" I screamed as I beat it, knowing it was already dead, but sanity was past me. I kept beating and beating it, turning the already smashed carcass into a splatter of blood on the pavement. It was only after I had finally gotten worn out from all the screaming, stomping, kicking and smashing that I stopped, bloody hands on the knees of bloody trousers, panting and wheezing.
"God damn...monster...nobody...messes with...me," I panted, straightening finally. The crowbar in my hand was soaked in blood, bits of bone and flesh sticking along with the gooey crimson substance. I turned away from the carcass and vomited, the sour liquid spilling from my lips giving the concrete a nice greenish hue. Wiping my mouth, I turned and walked down the road, pulling the radio out of my pocket.
"Last time this thing went off, that ugly bastard attacked me, so maybe-" I paused, flipping the switch of the radio back on only to hear nothing. "That means that it somehow warns me of the monster?" I said to myself, walking down the road, pocketing the radio again. I wiped some sweat off my head, only succeeding in getting my forehead bloody. Cussing, I walked down the street more, hoping that somewhere in Silent Hill there was more than just demons that were somehow familiar to me.