(A/N. Hey everybody. I'm sorry this update was so late in coming, but with real life shit to deal with, it's kind of hard to focus on writing a story; however, this one is coming along nicely. I intended this chapter to be longer, and I may in fact add to it later on, but I thought I really needed to update since it's been so long. One of the problems I have with this story is I don't have it planned out the way I want. I have sort of a vague idea for a start, but not much of a middle, and hardly an end. That's where a lot of fanfiction stories go wrong, because the beginning starts out really well, and then it drops off because the author has a hard time continuing the plot. Well, after this chapter is posted, what I am going to concentrate on is planning this thing out to a T, going over all the plot hooks, character designs, descriptions, interweaving of themes, etc. I find that after something has been planned out well, writing it seems so much more fluid. Anyway, my point is that I need someone or someones to bounce ideas off of in order to construct my overall plot. If there are any volunteers out there who would like to help me scheme and get this thing in working order, I would really really appreciate the help. Please e-mail me at if you're interested, and as always, enjoy!

Chapter 3

The thick pine boughs formed a near-impenetrable canopy above me, their needled arms swaying languidly in the fog-shrouded breeze. I followed the worn stone path deeper into the forest, my flashlight playing back and forth like bloodhound trying to sniff out a break in the unfathomable depths of fog before me. It felt surreal, like I was somehow swimming through a cloud.

Soon the gentle sound of water lapping against shore reached my ears. For some reason, it seemed to sooth my nerves, allowing me to concentrate on something else other than the pounding of my own heart. With the decrepit stone path winding its weed-filled length through that seemingly interminable forest, I began to wonder if I had been going anywhere at all, if I wasn't simply walking around in circles on a path that led to nowhere; but that ghostly water, it steadied me, locked me on course in the knowledge that something did lay before me, something that I couldn't help but feel would become a catalyst to change my life forever.

The path began curve, no doubt skirting the lake as the map had promised. I never got more than a shimmering glimpse of its waters before the ever-present fog swallowed it up once more, but I didn't dare move off the path to investigate. You can call it an irrational fear, but for some reason I was afraid that if I ever lost sight of that path, I might never find it again. It was my tenuous life line to something substantial, something other than those mist-shrouded woods. I wasn't about to let it out of my sight. Then with a shiver I quickened my pace, hoping to reach my destination before long.

I got my wish soon enough. Looming out of the fog, I spied the first real break in wooded monotony since stepped onto the stone trail. A decrepit wrought iron fence stretched out on either side of the path, its rusted struts haphazardly poking from the ground like many pairs of skeletal hands groping their way free of the earth. The gate canted to its side, hanging ajar with untended care as if to say no one had bothered to pass through its breadth for some time.

Despite the little voice in the back of my mind screaming at me that this was a very bad idea, I slowly walked up to gate and reached out with a tentative hand, feeling the rusted and pitted metal under my palm as I wrapped my fingers around the handle. I gave a great pull, wrenching the gate open with an accompanying screech of rusted metal on metal that split the eerily calm night like an animalistic howl. Beyond the gate, the ground was covered with an overgrown layer of grass. Small gray monoliths in various states of disrepair protruded upward from the unruly tufts of gray-green grass in a regular pattern, making me feel like the forgotten chaos around me was somehow planned. Then I realized that in fact it was. This wasn't just some forgotten plot of ground deep in the Midwestern woods. It was a cemetery.

It seemed somehow fitting, given the way my night had been going, and though I kept telling myself that there was nothing to be afraid of, I couldn't quite convince myself of that fact. I was dead scared. I had this ridiculous notion that I had walked straight into one those hokey zombie movies. You know the kind, where one of the main characters—the stupid one, mind you—stumbles into a churchyard one lonely night and suddenly finds himself surrounded by rotten and decaying corpses climbing out of their graves, all of them intent upon making him their next meal. Of course, it was ridiculous. I had nothing to fear from zombies. The walking dead can't hold a candle to the real horror of Silent Hill: the truth.

Like a snake slithering its way through an untended yard, a narrow path lead from the gate and wound through the overgrown cemetery to disappear somewhere off in the fog. Once more I contemplated going back, but I couldn't. Upon reflection, I doubt it would have made any difference. Silent Hill already had me, and it wasn't going to let go until it had finished with me. So with nothing left to do, I took a deep breath and set foot onto the winding trail.

I walked on, clutching the flashlight in my hand like a castaway holds onto a life preserver in a storm ravaged ocean, but then something ahead caught my eye: a glow of light from beyond the fog. I quickened my steps, pushing my way past overgrown weeds and crumbling tombstones in my haste to reach that tentative light. I don't really know what I was expecting; maybe a street light, or a groundskeeper's hut, but what I found defied expectations. Resting on the ground before a glossy gray edifice sat a thick candle, its feeble flame flickering lazily in the foggy night air. Unlike the rest of the soil around it, however, this plot of earth had been freshly upturned, and the growth of weeds and grass had not yet overtaken its bounds.

I peered at the headstone, raising my flashlight to play its light across the inscription upon the face of granite. The name Michael McKinney stood out in bold letters, and located beneath it were the dates 1962-1979. I briefly wondered why this grave looked so fresh, why the tombstone still had a gloss of newness upon it, but then my eyes fell upon the rest of the inscription. It read, Thou sufferest the woman Jezebel, which calleth herself a prophetess, to teach and to seduce my servants to commit fornication, and to eat things sacrificed unto idols. I gave her space to repent of her fornication, and she repented not. Behold, I will cast her into a bed, and them that commit adultery with her into great tribulation. I will kill her children with death, and all the churches shall know that I am He which searcheth the reins and hearts.

I shuddered. This wasn't something that belonged on a tombstone. It sounded like an executioner pronouncing his victim's death, not a tender remembrance of a departed loved one. And what's more, it sounded familiar, almost Biblical, though I couldn't recall where I'd heard it.

I looked around, feeling decidedly uneasy standing before that baleful headstone. But then something sounded in the distance, like someone walking through the grass.

"Hello?" I called out in typical horror-movie fashion, shining my flashlight out into the darkness.

The noise stopped as if the person paused, and then it came back with renewed fervor as the unseen figure took off in the other direction.

"Wait!" I called, taking off down the path after him.

Now as I look back on it, this all seems really silly—running headlong after a faint sound in the distance, but at that moment in time I didn't quite care. The most frightening part of my journey thus far was that I had been alone in it all. I just wanted to find someone else—I didn't care who, just another human being to share in my plight, to assuage my fears that only the dead and damned still dwelt in this morass of decrepit squalor. I just didn't want to be alone. So as foolish as it may sound, I raced off into the unknown, heedless of the dangers that awaited me in that maze of fog and filth known as Silent Hill.