Reminisces

...Seeker of Envy...

1st Person Mode

When I opened the creaky door of my home and into the familiar unknown of my yard beyond, although it was near Midnight, the moon above me illuminated all that needed be seen, but not all was there that needed to be. Including Miranda.

But there was no more commotion. All chaos had ceased. There was no ambulance to take her body away, even though a body had not been present, and although the squad of officers had parted, the man who had been so deceitful, his voice, had burned into my mind. His flesh, I wanted on my hands. But what were these thoughts? They were not of my own, but maybe they had been since he angered me so.

But nothing was left behind. No tire tracks or proof that assistance had been there, but there were a set of footprints that led away from the scene.

Impulsively, I followed them into the darkness beyond with only the moonlight to guide me. My feet ached as I stepped over sharp stones, for I had been barefoot, and the night was chilled. My attire did not suit the situation. Still, I ventured further and followed the tracks as though a bloodhound.

The tracks stopped a gate that was unfamiliar, and I didn't know of it's existence anywhere near my house. There was a tall, solid wall at either side, and I could not see what was beyond the rusted gate, but I pushed it forward and onto dry ground as I noticed the sign, "Wish House," when I stepped further inside. The Orphanage.

I knew my existence had been a fake, although my parents refused to address so, and I recalled painful memories of this so called "House" before. I knew I was an orphan, and Du'shat was not my real origin. All my life had been a lie, and I knew not of anything of my childhood behind these rusted gates except for the fact that my real grandmother lived several hundreds of miles away in Brahms, the neighboring town of Silent Hill, and she was the only family I knew. The only real family.

But Wish House was, by no means, to be considered a place of living and prosperity. I was constantly teased as the Devil's Child for having an "ability" to read the chicken scratch of several journals left by a child several years before me in, what I hoped, was red ink. If I didn't prowl around the plain grounds of gates, willows of despair, and broken down child's grounds, we were sent to the Round Cells, which were previously prison walls to those damned and sentenced to fates beyond those of the human world, or so, that's what I heard.

Each child had to read strange writing; Sacraments. I can only remember one that seems to come to mind, although that was many years ago. Seeker of Envy. But I can't recall who held that Sacrament. Actually, nearing the time of my departure from the Wish House, the other children were encouraging me to learn the Sacraments by heart. They were originally drilled into my head by some old woman with wild, amber eyes, and her touch, creepy, but one girl had told me that if the children were to help me remember the Sacraments, they would all be set free, and that's the only reason she was helping the Devil's Child.

Before I learned of the final Sacrament, even though I only recall there being a total of seven or so, I left the Wish House and even though I heard many tales of torture, I never experienced them, but the cries of help and pain I heard in the cells next to me still sends chills up my spine.

I shook myself back into reality and looked behind me to the gate that was before, but now appeared to be a door shackled and chained from the inside. What a nutcase, I thought to myself, whoever resides here. I shook myself of bad thoughts and stepped further inside to the rust-colored walls of the Ashefield Apartments that I recognized as before. A little boy, perhaps seven years old, was lying on the couch, snuggling his face against the rough, bloody fibers of the old furniture.

"Mommy," he said contently. "I've missed you so much."

"Mommy?" I asked. I stepped near him. "Where's your mommy, little boy?"

He looked at me with wide eyes, and I wondered if he, too, saw me as a poltergeist, but he answered my question. "This is my mom. I've missed her so much," he said, and stood to make his way over to a chair nearest the windows. He began to hug the chair, and then the television nearby. "Her presence is all around. Can't you feel it?"

"Walter," I began, and then quickly closed my mouth when I realized what I had just said. Why did I say that?

"How do you know my name?" the little boy asked, confused.

"I.. I'm not really sure, myself," I said, dazed. I backed away from him and noticed a candle on the countertop near the kitchen area of this small apartment. I was beginning to succumb to how dark this room was. "How about you turn some light on?"

"Light hurts my eyes," he admitted, rubbing them and facing away from me to hug the wall nearest him.

I noticed a single match atop the stove nearby and I grabbed it, lighting the tall, pure white candle. "This shouldn't hurt your eyes too much. It'll hurt worse when you go blind because you can't see." I placed the candle down on the countertop, and he turned to face me, his eyes, wild. I backed to the wall and pointed to the candle, screaming.

"Ahh! Fire! It's gonna hurt me! Ahh!" he shrieked.

"It's okay, it's safe," I claimed, but I jumped when I noticed a man in a long, navy trenchcoat, a dark hat pulled over his eyes, take the candle into his hand and throw it at the young boy. Although he missed, the flame quickly caught all nearest furniture on fire, and the boy was trapped in the corner, cowering from the heat.

"Put it out!" he screamed.

I was screaming myself when I fled from the living quarters and down the hallway. Although I didn't hear the tall stranger pursue me, I didn't look back, and I turned right to the nearest door..

..And further, still, into darkness.