Same as chapter 4. WIP and subject to change. Just wanted to give you more!

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-Chapter 5-
-Sacrilege and Blasphemy-

It had been one week since the students of Hope House left on their class trip to the Historical Society, one week since Jacob passed out cold on the museum floor and found himself in an alternate version of the town. The last few moments spent at the gazebo with Jessica at Rosewater park provided Jacob with a brief moment of reprieve from his concerns. When he returned to Hope House, his nightmares continued. They were variations on the nightmare he had been experiencing since he first came to the orphanage. He would always find himself running down a hallway, with walls covered in all sorts of unnatural stains, blood and grime, chased by a monstrous pursuer. The nightmares would differ in some instances, in particular, Jacob would find himself running through Hope House, but instead of concrete floors, rusted steel gratings would take its place, the only physical platform keeping Jacob from falling into the infinite sea of darkness. Although his nightmares would contain subtle differences, they always ended the same with his head pounding as his ears were flooded by the wailing sirens, the image of Pyramid Head moving to strike Jacob with giant knife. Jacob would always wake up as the knife came speeding down towards his head, his sheets and skin damp with sweat.
Jacob tried to live his life the best he could given the horrific nature of the nightmares. The only thing that brought him peace where the frequent moments spent with Jessica. She could always bring a smile to his face. When not in classes, they would share lunches together and spend breaks walking the school grounds. However, when Jacob was in his required classes, he tried hard to fight off the inevitable feelings of boredom.
Today's history class detailed the facts associated with the Norman Invasion during England's earliest history. Jacob tried his best to stay awake, but between his lack of sleep and the discussion of British medieval politics and battles, Jacob could not find interest. He began to doodle on his notebook, drawing silly faces and repeated figure eights, drawing on top of each one, causing a dark blotch to form on the paper. Jacob then drew a large circle with his pen. Inside that circle he drew another, smaller circle. Jacob started to draw the symbol the faceless girl drew in the dirt. Within the smallest circle, he drew the isosceles triangle, making sure that the three points touched the inner circle. He made little scribblings in the space between the two circle, pretending he knew the actual script on the seal. When he finished, he looked up and saw a Sister standing in front him, each and every student looking at him.
"Well, Mr. Swanson, is the conquest of the Normans too boring for you?"
"I, uh. No, Sister," Jacob stammered. "I'm sorry."
"Well, maybe if you spent far less time doodling," the sister spoke as she grabbed Jacob's notepad, eyeing it over. "You might get something out of my lesson. You might learn..." the Sister's voice trailed as she stared at the symbol drawn on the paper. She placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. She muttered a quick prayer before grabbing Jacob's arm, pulling him out from his desk. She took him out of the classroom and led him through the hallway. When they reached Father Alexander's office, she threw Jacob down into one of the seats and burst through the office door. Jacob felt confused, he had no idea why his little drawing was causing such a fuss. Jacob could hear the sounds of muffled voices through the hall. Right when he tried to place his ear against the wooden door, it opened, revealing a concerned looking Father.
"I need to speak with you, Jacob. You may leave us now, Sister." The woman left the office, muttering to herself, her palms clasped together. Jacob got up from his seat and walked into the office. The room was small, with bookcases lining the walls and a large wooden desk placed in front of a large open window looking out into the grounds of Hope House. Jacob took a seat in one of the chairs placed in front of the desk. Alexander gave Jacob his notebook before sitting at his desk, his hands held firmly together.
"What is the meaning of this, Jacob?"
"Father, I don't understand. It was just a scribble, sir."
"Do you even know what that is?"
"No, sir."
"Do you realize you've befouled your notebook and classroom by scribbling such sacrilege?"
"Honestly, Father. I did not know what I was doing. I do not know what it means. I saw it in my—"Jacob stopped himself, not wanting to expose his nightmares.
"Was this...in your nightmares, Jacob?"
Jacob sighed and lowered his head. He figured it was too late now. He whispered, "Yes."
"I think it's time we talk about it, Jacob. Perhaps I'll discovered how you came to know this symbol."
Jacob nodded his head. Alexander walked over to the other side of the room, lifting a pitcher of water. Pouring the clear fluid in a glass, he handed it to Jacob he thanked him after taking it in his hand. Alexander returned to his seat, leaning back, his hands folded against his chest. "Tell me about the nightmares, Jacob."
"Well, I can't really explain them myself. I see myself running through the halls of Hope House. But it isn't Hope House as I know it. The walls are dirty, blotchy, smeared with rust, grime and blood. I'm always running in the dream, running away from something. Bed frames are scattered all over the place and one catches my hell, causing me to trip. When I hit the floor, I see what I am running from. It's a tower of a creature. Every part of it looks human, it's head covered by a large, red pyramid shaped helmet. He is dragging a large knife with him. My nightmares always end with the creature dropping its knife to my head."
Alexander sat silently as Jacob finished his tale. He watched the younger student sip from his water glass.
"That's a very interesting nightmare, Jacob. And you say this is a recurring nightmare?"
"Yes, sir."
Alexander sat in quiet thought. Jacob wished he could have read the older man's thoughts. Perhaps he had an answer.
"What about the incident at the Historical Society, Jacob? Did you have the same nightmare?"
"No, sir. It was very different."
"Tell me, son."
Jacob proceeded to tell Alexander about the nightmare centering around a dark enshrouded Silent Hill. He told the older man about how he walked to Rosewater Park and saw a girl wearing a Hope House uniform and how she drew the seal on the dirt for him to sit on. He noticed Alexander's eyebrow raise from this particular element of the nightmare. Jacob continued and told the priest about the ceremony, where Will's body was placed in a cage and ran through with a pike by the same monster that chased him down the hallway. After Jacob finished his tale, he looked up at the priest whose eyes showed a hint of surprise.
"Very interesting, Jacob."
"Father...what does it all mean? What is the symbol all about? Who were those robed figures?"
Alexander got up from his desk and went over to the open window. A cool wind blew, the drapes flowing gently, the priest's robes remained still. After a few minutes of silence, the priest turned and faced Jacob.
"I'm sorry for what you had to see, Jacob. I'm afraid you witnessed the more...darker nature of our religion."
Jacob looked at the man quizzically. "What do you mean, Father."
The older man sighed before speaking. "When our group first found our religion, it was one based on the hope that all pain, suffering and darkness would be lifted, ushering a time of eternal peace for all mankind. Initially, the founders believed that this time would come soon if the followers of god prayed hard enough and gathered those who wished to seek happiness and peace." Alexander moved across the room as he spoke. "Such as the nature of most groups, there was a growing level of tension between the founders. Some were content with a life of piousness and prayer, while others sought to...speed things up, so to speak."
"How so?"
"Well, this group grew impatient with the slow nature of achieving paradise. In our teachings, there is a tale told of a dark god who had once challenged our god. In a confrontation between them, god shook Her mighty fist and beat down the challenger. She banished the dark god Samael away from the world of Man, never to return. You remember this from your seminary classes, correct?"
"Yes...yes, of course, sir."
Alexander shook his head and laughed softly, shaking a finger at Jacob, who hunched his shoulders and looked sheepish.
"Anyway, those impatient founders broke from the traditional teachings of our god and sought to utilize the power of Samael to speed up the coming of paradise. This splinter group needed followers of the own and instead of doing so through peace, they forced people to their way of thinking."
"So...what I saw at Rosewater. Was that what they were doing?"
"What you've told me sounds similar to the older practices."
"What happened to them? Are...are they still around?"
"No, no, Jacob. As time passed, people began to question how and why the splinter group's numbers grew. When their methods were exposed, everyone involved in the cult of Samael was excommunicated. From what we understand, the cult dispersed soon after."
Jacob felt confused, he couldn't understand why he had seen something that occurred years ago in his nightmare.
"Why did I see such a thing, Father?"
Alexander sat down at his desk, running a hand through his thin dark hair. "No one really understands dreams, Jacob. No one can explain how they happen and why they show particular things. Since you had this nightmare at the Historical Society, perhaps you formed an image of the things you read about at the museum. The appearance of the...creature could have come from the painting displayed there."
"But why did I see Will?"
Alexander sat quietly, deep in thought. "I can't explain that either, Jacob. Chances are the person in the cage you spoke of was one of the victims from the past. Because your brain was building this alternate Silent Hill, you automatically put a familiar face on that individual. Perhaps in an attempt to make some sense of what was going on."
Jacob rubbed his head trying to make sense of everything. His eyes dropped down to his notepad, staring at the symbol he drew.
"So this symbol, is that the one used by the cult?"
"That is the Mark of Samael, yes. Now that you understand what happened, you see what all the fuss was about. It is an evil mark, one that reminds all of us here of a more sinister element of our religion. We must not let the bad apples spoil the bunch, yes?"
"Yes, Father."
"I can see that what you've done is a textbook case of misunderstanding. But now that you know what you know, you'll understand that you must never create this symbol. It is sacrilege and blasphemy, Jacob."
"I understand, Father."
"You should probably not go around telling anyone about this. No sense in bringing up such terrible things. Have you told anyone, Jacob? Be honest, my son. Our god sees and hears all. She knows when you are telling the truth or not."
"I haven't told anyone, Father. I swear."
"Very good. You may return to class now, my son. Oh, and I will dispose of your notebook as well. Anything carry the evil mark should be gotten rid of. Be well, my son."
Jacob took his time getting back to class, trying to wrap his mind around what Alexander had revealed to him. Even though he discovered the foundation of his nightmares, he didn't understand why he was having them, why he was seeing things that don't concern him. He wanted to know more about this mysterious cult of Samael, as if their situation could shed further answers. Jacob knew that would be close to impossible, seeing how everyone considers the very whisper of their name blasphemy.
Jacob returned to his classroom and walked through the door, interrupting the Sister's lecture. She, along with the entire class stared at him, following Jacob with her eyes as he quietly moved back to his seat. He placed his arms neatly on the desktop and looked at the Sister. She nodded slightly and resumed her lecture, turning so that her back faced the class as she wrote on the chalkboard.