Chapter 23: Path of Iris

After Shelley had put some distance between the Harpies in the principal's office and herself, she slowed down her pace to a nervous walk. The tunnel was round and slippery, sloping downwards. A dimly glistening, organic mass constituted the walls. Wherever Shelley looked, her gaze was met by more flesh. Thick veins throbbed through the bright red surface. Various disgusting fluids dripped from the low ceiling and trickled down the curved walls. It was as if Shelley had stepped inside the digestive system of some obese, titanic creature.

The worst part was, without a doubt, the stench. It reeked of decay – slow, rancid decay. But Shelley fought back the dread and walked on. Her courage was only rewarded by the stench growing stronger. The tunnel would clearly lead her down to the very heart of the decay.

"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf," Shelley murmured, her voice anything but melodious. "Big bad wolf, big bad …"

"… wolf – who's afraid of the big bad wolf?" The voice was clearly that of a little girl, 7-9 years old. It echoed through the tunnel from ahead, and for a second, Shelley felt the stench disappear as fresh, cool air brushed over her face. "Tra la la la la …"

The voice trailed off, and the stench returned to torture Shelley's olfactory sense. The woman started running through the tunnel, her feet splashing across the goo-covered floor, as she rushed past cobwebs of arteries, bones and obese flesh.

She halted at the top of a familiar staircase. The wooden steps from her old home appeared in the middle of the tunnel, leading steeply downwards. The passage had turned narrow to fit the stairs, but the low ceiling and walls were still made of pulsating flesh in lieu of wood. Shelley felt a cold wave of nausea washing over her at the sight of the stairway.

"Take it easy. It's the only way forward, and it's just a stairway," she told herself.

Shelley gripped the banister, clutching it until her knuckles turned chalkwhite. Her feet remained motionless.


"Revenge?" Dean repeated Lord's answer. "What do you mean?"

"A car hit her. She died on the spot," Dean replied. "The driver was never arrested. Everyone said it was nothing more than an accident, but I know the cult did it. They just hired someone to make it look like an accident …"

"The cult," Lord said. "You must stop them. She wants you to stop them."

"How?"

"The head priest." Still concealing Lord's face, the white paper rustled slightly as he spoke.

"You mean Philip?" Dean asked, not receiving an answer from the taciturn Lord. The patient looked down at the scalpel in his hand. The razorsharp blade glinted in the moonlight from the window.

And suddenly, Dean understood what Lord wanted.


"Just a stairway. Count the steps …" Shelley ran her eyes over the steep path, down to the closed wooden door at the bottom. "Fifteen steps. Take it easy."

Her left foot finally descended onto the first step. It creaked slightly under her weight. The sound brought back so many memories …

Her right foot joined her left one on the step. "Good. Fourteen steps left."

Next step. Right foot first, then the left one. "Thirteen steps left. Just relax."

Some kind of acidolous fluid dripped from the ceiling and landed on her bowed neck. She winced, glanced back over her shoulder, reeled slightly – "oh my God I'm going to fall and die die DIE" – but easily regained her balance. Left foot down. Right foot follows.

"Twelve steps left. You're doing fine."

"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf, big bad wolf, big bad wolf, big bad stairs?"

"Eleven steps left."

"Big bad big bad big bad big fucking bad …"

"Ten steps left."

She felt an icy breeze on her neck. "No, not a breeze … Ten steps left. She's right there. She's standing right behind me.Ten steps left. Take it She's going to push me easy. down the stairs Right foot first, then She's going to kill me the left one. Just why won't she leave me alone I hate her relax."

The cold air kept brushing over her neck in the slow, monotonous rhythm of a calm breathing. Shelley's fingers tightened around the banister. She stood motionless and listened to the silence. "There's no one behind you. It's mom just your imagination, Shelley. Now take another step, and you'll she'll push me only have nine steps left."

"Mom?" Shelley spoke out loud. Tears stung at her eyes. "Are you there? … I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't done that to you. It was horrible and stupid … Please forgive me."

Silence.

Cold fingertips touching her back, followed by two palms, pressing against the fabric of her sweater, pushing her down …

"Why won't you go AWAY!" Shelley spun around and let go of the banister. For a second, her fear of falling vanished and was replaced by pure hatred.

But the object of her hatred was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a little girl sat on the fifth step, her head resting in her hands and her elbows supported on her knees. The red colour of her hair and those blue eyes were unmistakeable.

"Hi," Shelley said to herself.

The little girl stared at her with a bored, vaguely curious look on her face. "Hi. Do you think I'll grow up pretty someday?"

The woman hesitated a little before nodding. "Yeah. I think you'll be the prettiest girl in the world." And with that, Shelley turned around and walked down the remaining ten steps.


The hair broke the surface first. It floated up like a thick, brown liquid. The top of a head soon emerged underneath the wet strands. The forehead slowly rose from the surface, more brown hair clinging to the pale skin on either side of the bright grey eyes. The nose appeared, followed by bluish lips. The face was completely devoid of any feelings, as if the girl's mind had turned as numb as her body. Even though her eyes were opened wide, unblinking, they seemed to express nothing but cold emptiness. Death.

Louise opened her mouth. After a few hesitant seconds, she finally managed to stutter out her sister's name: "Sharon?"

The girl in the water floated motionless. Her lips parted, but no reply would come. Instead, blood floated from her mouth and created a red cloud in the middle of the lake surface's dark blue sky. The cloud slowly grew and spread through the water, until the entire surface had turned crimson.

Beth doubted that so much blood could have flowed from any human body, let alone a little child. "What the hell could be down there?"

The moment the thought had flashed through her mind, a titanic shadow rose to the surface and crashed its wings against the ice. Cracks had invaded the fragile surface in the blink of an eye. The ice broke into countless floes, bursting up like pieces torn out of a puzzle. And from the water below, an enormous shape emerged - a sight of pure depravity, filling Beth with more dread and disgust than any of Silent Hill's other horrors.

Philip looked up, ran his eyes over the creature and smiled at his complete triumph.

"God has returned to us."


At the bottom of the staircase, Shelley opened the door and stepped into a dim, square room. The floor and ceiling consisted of even more obese flesh, contours of huge, embedded organs pulsating all around her. The wall with the door was made of old-looking wood, while filthy glass panes seemed to constitute the other three walls.

Shelley approached the centre of the room, and the panes revealed themselves as mirrors. Since two of these were facing each other, a surreal sight of countless mirror images was spawned. But instead of mirroring Shelley, the glass showed infinite copies of a different being – the Devourer. It mimicked her every movement like an imitator, its body a scornful travesty of the real Shelley.

The woman stopped in the middle of the room, and the monster followed suit with unsettlingly quick reactions. Shelley turned around to view the entire room. The infinite rows of Devourers pivoted as well. Their legs had grown together down to the knees, but the creatures could easily walk with their mere shins. The eyelids were still stuck shut under the layer of greasy liquids that smothered their obese bodies.

"… the prettiest girl in the world."

Shelley stood motionless for a few seconds, clutching the iron bar she had picked up in the hospital. "Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?"

"Not me."

She raised the weapon and ran up to the left wall, smashing the rusty metal into the glass. Cobweb-patterns of cracks burst forth in the mirror. Shelley drew back the bar and swung again, creating more cobwebs, again, crushing that hideous image reflected in the glass, again …

The wall finally shattered. Fragments flew outwards and disappeared in the inky darkness on the other side. Shelley stood at the edge of the room, catching her breath while gazing into the abyss outside.

But her work was not done yet.

She turned around and made a beeline for the second wall, in which only one Devourer was left after the destruction of the opposite mirror. The creature soon disintegrated into countless falling slivers of glass, as Shelley let her frustration guide her hands, smashing the mirror until nothing but the darkness beyond remained.

"Seven years of bad luck, Shelley."

The woman spun around to face the wall opposite the door to the staircase. One Devourer still stood reflected in the third and last mirror. It had spoken with a horribly familiar voice.

"Seven years of bad luck," Shelley's mother repeated. "That's what you get for breaking mirrors."

"I've already had my share of bad luck." Shelley approached the mirror. The Devourer stood motionless, tired of mimicking its victim.

"You think bad luck is what brought you here?"

"No." Shelley shook her head. "I brought myself here. I thought I needed punishment."

"What you need is a diet. Look at you! All that fatty food is …"

Shelley closed her eyes and raised a hand in weary protest. "Stop it. You might as well give up."

Silence reigned for a few seconds. The Devourer's head lolled back, stretching the gill-like slits in its throat. "I suppose this had to happen sooner or later," the mother informed her daughter.

The latter nodded.

"Get it over with."

Shelley raised the iron bar and swung it into the mirror. As the shattered glass fell to the ground, the woman saw the real Devourer standing in the middle of the tunnel on the other side. Little more than skin and bones constituted the creature's body. The ribs were in clear relief under the taut skin of its chest, and the stomach was sickeningly enervated. The arms looked frail enough to be snapped like mere twigs. It stared at Shelley with pitiful, bloodshot eyes, then collapsed in a heap.

Shelley contemplated the gasping, powerless figure for a few seconds.

"Do you think I'll grow up pretty someday?"

She stepped over its writhing torso and ran down the tunnel. The walls themselves were starting to look enervated – bones protruding, blood trickling from punctured veins, organs pumping to slower and more irregular beats than before.


A/N: You might want to get your favorite boss-fight track ready before reading the next chapter …