Chapter XVIII
Cold Tears

Sharpen and Static


Servo's Note:
"I was eating some curley fries, and drinking a nice cool Sunny D when I wrote this chapter."


Fuzz, static, and a hurandous noise of disturbance arouses in such darkness. AAAAHHHHH. The noise is so excrutiating. But yet the vibrations are there. Cannot stop the vibrations.
Can't crush the god damn vibrations!

But even in the midst of this likely disturbance, two blades make there soothing contact. Butcher knives to be exact. Making there likely contact as to sharpen each other in essence. Back and forth, back and forth, sliding on each other's metallic edges as to enhance their so called: butchering.
Making those likely sharpening sounds we all know:
shring...shring...shring...shring...shring...shring...shring.

Yep, that's it. Two blades sliding back and forth, and forth and back.

And the wielder of these blades, simply puts up a smile. Sitting in absolute darkness, accompanied by that hurandous static.

Alex continued to walk ever so slowly to the large and monstrous tower. He placed his hands into his coat pockets, in retalliation from the chill which was beginning to crawl inside him. Slithering and making its way like the very serpent itself.
Cold and keen their eyes are.

But Alex's eyes weren't in the stature to be keen.
No.
After quite the sleep he just awoken from, how could his eyes be sharp to such a dense fog?

Hazy...dull...tired. But wait.

His eyes infact, did spot something.

In the distance, Alex could make out the shadowy figure of a tree. Not large or anything. Only about twelve feet tall. And yet, it didn't look healthy. Infact, it too was covered in decay left by the area Alex seemed to slowly adapt too.
Oh...slowly adapt.

Alex's pace increased. He forwarded ahead towards the tree, hoping to find something interesting. Perhaps this unfortunate thing was once a bearer of fruit.
Perhaps it was.
Chances are it could have been. But it doesn't matter now does it?
If Silent Hill still possesed fruit trees...then...then.
...then it must have some pretty strange fruit.

Pretty...strange...fruit.

Alex drew closer and closer to the tree. Branches upon branches extended out like the spread of an infectious disease. Out from its source, and out into the openness.
That's what it was. A disease spreading out to the outer skirts only to bring them the gift. Bringing them the wonderful and magneficent gift. Giving them something, after their long plee: "Please...please...give me gift. Give me gift. Please...Please...give me gift"
Giving them the gift, from here: Silent Hill.

Alex drew closer and closer.

He couldn't help notice a peculiar sound starting to summon. It was constant and excrutiating. The sound wasn't anything unrecognizable. It sounded alot like the the static which came from the radio. And that's all that it was.
Alex remembered that was the last thing he heard from his car radio before he drove into the town. And yeah, that was the last thing he heard from it before he lost.
...Jessica.

Closer and closer. Alex drew near to the tree. Static was ever so excrutiating and noisy. It was hard for him to identify it, but it seemed that the disturbance was originating somewhere around the tree.

Curiosity grew inside Alex as the tree was now upon him. The noise was now ear piercing. So excrutiating it was. It was enough for Alex to bring one hand up to his ear to help comfort the stinging sensation. Oh Man was it piercing.

But the static seemed to quite all of sudden, as if a certain frequency was coming in.
And yes, something did come in to static, somewhere hidden around the tree.

A muffled and laggy voice it was. It's holder sounded old and little...well...derranged.

„Suche gut gebauten 18-30jährigen zum Schlachten"
Alex couldn't tell what was going on. A radio must be here somewhere. And yes, it was giving out something very peculiar. An incoming message that seemed a little odd. He couldn't understand the interpretation either. A language it must be; Alex thought. But he couldn't quite tell what it was.

„Suche gut gebauten 18-30jährigen zum Schlachten"

Again the voice kept repeating itself over and over again.

„Suche gut gebauten 18-30jährigen zum Schlachten"

As if caught record repeating itself as it rotates around and around on the spindel.

„Suche gut gebauten 18-30jährigen zum Schlachten"

Alex began to circle around the tree. Attempting to spot any signs of the device. Nothing.
At least not on the ground in that matter.

Just then Alex relized it. The noise was coming directly above him.
Of course, how silly; Alex thought. The radio is just simply above him.

It was then that Alex gazed upwards. Spotting the radio itself it seems.
Ah yes! There it is. There's the device. There's the radio...along with a blood stained hand...

Alex's eyes slowly widened. A look of absolute horror slowly painted on to his face. His hand began to tremble, and his pubils shortened ever so tightly.

The bearing was far to great in order to keep up with such a sight. Alex simply stared, stared, stared, surrcumbing to absolute horror.

One blood shot eye stared at Alex with greeting of quite the introduction. And only one eye stared at him. For the person's other eyeball was missing from it's socket.
The arm was torn and it hanged loose, ready to fall from it's bodily source. Holding that excrutiating radio in the bloody hand. Caught red handed with the source of excrutiation.

The man hung upside down and levitated there swaying back and forth, and forth and back. A large meat sickle was pierced through his chest, and was hung on to a branch, like the very works of a hunter...or butcher in the matter.

The sight was just the sight something a mad man would do. And so it seemed.
Alex continued to stare with that look of terror in his eyes, and tremble of shock. There that radio hung in the poor soul's hand, still giving out that noise which continued to pierce and pierce.

The man's face looked as if it had a look of encouragement on it. Of course he was dead alright. But still, it looked as if he were encouraging Alex to take the device, and take it with absoulute gratitude.

Take it.

Alex continued to stare. Questioning in his mind whether this device will serve him any purpose whatsoever.

Take it.

How could he just take this radio. For God sakes, a dead man is holding it.

Take it.

Alex's hand continued to tremble. His legs too were shaking Alex's reaction to such a sight. And the man, hanging there from the sickle, his one eye set on the young boy, continued to hold that machine of static. Alex's slowly turned around. He slowly started to pace away. One foot raised, and it came down to his commencement forth. All he needs to do is walk away.
Just walk away boy, and don't look back. For your sakes, don't look back.

TAAAAAKKE IIIIIIITTTTT!

Alex quickly spung around, his arms extending out to reach out to the radio. And thus, his hand made contact with the device, and was grasped as Alex quickly spung back around full circle. Not making any sights to anything. Not stopping to see if that butchered being still hanged there.

Without any hesitation, before he even knew it, he was running through the fog at top speed. His legs making solid efforts to pick up the pace and escape the scene. But it wasn't long before they ceased and came to a complete stop.

Alex leaned over, attempting to regain breath and strength.
He then stood upright again, and yes, he eyed back to where he ran from.

And there... was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

No tree. No decayed branches spreading out like a disease. And no butchered animal made for consumption of great, and delicious servings.
Nothing at all.

And silence also was made known. No static was coming from the radio. No sound of excruciating matters which can pierce the head into insanity. Nothing at all.
But then a small voice suddenly crawled from the radio, and made a little point known.
The very same muffled voice as before:

„Denn du bist, vas du ist."

And then, silence remained.

Alex then looked back. And there, was the door to the large stone complex. It was time for him to enter into this place. And commence his search for that girl which he lost, right after the static.

The door was small, and the entering room looked small too. But that's how it was. A small beginning room, to a large and wide complex.
With no hesitation, Alex placed his hand on the door handle, and turned it to the right.

And the blades continued to slide back and forth, and forth and back. Sharpening each other for other works of serving.
And the wielder, continued his works of serving, upon an old wooden table. Works of food in the matter. His specialties must be made to fullfill an appetizer. And there, amongst the servings, sat an eyeball, ready to fullfill whatever appetizer is to be made.
With greatness, and works of wonder, the wielder, just simply puts up a smile.