One: Willowes' Folly.

Three Months Earlier...

For the past two years of his life, Dr. Myron Willowes has been living what can only be called the sweet life. His latest two books, The Mindscape and Dreams: Gateways To The Mind, were already considered best sellers and must-read literature for up and coming mental health professionals. His practice in Brahams had become a booming Psychiatric Hospital, where even famous patients came to rest and get their heads together. And now, he was preparing to begin work on his Fourth Book.

However, his Manager from Bucharest Publishing, Jared Welsh, was decidedly against his choice for research material. When Myron informed Jared that he intended to write a book on the effect locations can have on one's psychology, he seemed ecstatic.

And then Myron informed him that he was going to start with the negative aspects, and check out various "Haunted" locations. The first choice was Centralia, Pennsylvania, known for an unending Coal Fire beneath it's surface that resulted in the removal of all but eleven residents. However, Myron shot that concept down and immediately put forth a far more tragic location.

In the comfortable, well-furnished interior of Myron's sunny office, Jared sat across from him, staring at an open folder on the desk.

"Myron, have you lost your goddamn mind?" Jared asked bluntly. The short, bearded man raised a hand to run his fingers through his thinning hair. He was olive skinned, but had suddenly become very pale. "Half the lunatics in Brahams Mental Health Institution are connected to that place! Nobody's gone there and come back normal in thirty years!"

"I know," said Myron. "It's absolutely perfect. Clearly, something about this place unsettles people. I mean, look at it. The entire town was basically wiped out in a single night by fumes from the immense coal fires below it. Many of them burned, but the bulk died from the toxic fumes. I don't know if it's the perception or the place itself, but it's perfect material for my book!"

Jared stared, open-mouthed, trying to wrap his mind around the concept that anyone born and raised in Toluca County, West Virginia, could ever possibly desire to willingly go to Silent Hill. It was essentially a Ghost Town. Only Druggies, Lunatics and Freaks entered that town, and few ever came out. At least, not mentally intact.

"Myron, I'm your friend. I have to tell you: You're an idiot. You're one of the smartest men I know, but this is possibly the worst idea I've ever heard in my entire life. Silent Hill is a dead town. It's nowhere near safe. There are coke heads hiding out in those buildings! The Police won't even patrol there anymore!"

Myron stared at Jared for a long moment and smiled slightly. "Jared...Come on. You're my Manager. All I ask is a little faith. I'm a professional, you know. I know this is a perfect place for my research material."

Jared shook his head and sighed, standing up and heading for the door. He glanced over his shoulder at Myron before leaving.

"Myron, if you do this, you'll do it alone. I won't be part of your own suicide. That's what this is, Myron. Suicide. Silent Hill is not a place you want to go. You think you know what you're getting into, but you don't. You have no idea."

Myron sighed and started to respond, but Jared had already gone. Myron shrugged and decided that if this was the way it had to be, he'd find a new Manager after he finished with Silent Hill.

Outside, as Jared left the office building and made his way for his Crown Victoria, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was the last time he'd ever see Myron. At least, the Myron he knew.