Some pools of water had already formed on the alleyway. Its white cover of snow had melted; what remained was a black, rain-soaked shaft. I entered my car while looking frantically around; the sense of terror returned. A glance at the rearview mirror justified it: a small, distant figure was walking amidst the rain, barely visible. It came towards me by taking slow, uncertain steps. I slammed the door shut and started the engine – a sound emerged. I still don't know how to describe it properly; sort of a violent breath mixed with a scream. Once the smell of gasoline reached me, I acted before realizing what had happened: I stuffed the books in the sports bag and threw both myself and the bag outside – my eyes were filled with tears due to a cloud of smoke. I stumbled back in the garage and saw my car burning; deeply orange and yellow shine flashed through its windows. Flames slithered outside, pushed through every opening and started enveloping the whole vehicle – their light reflected by the pools of rainwater.

I collapsed on my knees and stared at the bed of fire without a single thought. Only later would the full gas canister come to my mind; it had seemingly exploded inside the trunk. How was that possible? It could happen with smaller amount of gasoline in a canister without flame arrestor, yet neither of those conditions applied in this case. The fire was evidently related to that classroom; another one of these impossible changes in my surroundings. I stood up slowly and looked past the burning husk: that walking figure was attracted to it. A child with blurred face, streams of water running across its pale body. Not exactly a monster from nightmare, but something else – like the rain, this thing seemed completely real.

I lifted the bag on my shoulder, pulled out the handgun and started running; I remember the sounds of my footsteps against the wet asphalt. The alleyway led to Bloch Street, passing some kind of restaurant or cafe on its way. A title plate hung on the wall right next to the front door; apparently this place was called Miss. Below the name, something else was written with blue marker: between 0,43 and 0,48. I stared at the strikingly bright ink, unable to understand its message. Soon a faint, whining scream forced me to keep moving:on opposite side of the street, another childlike creature was walking around and shaking its head. As I arrived at the next crossroads, third one appeared on the walkway, right next to the church; it started running towards me. I raised the gun, pulled the hammer and squeezed the trigger – though I can't recall the gunshot itself; only that revolting, watery sound as the creature's corpse landed on the street.

Church was right in front of me; just run and hope the door opens – that's what I should have done. Instead, I stood there, still wondering what had happened. The pale creature was lying below, with a pool of blood forming under its head. The other one on the opposite side of the street had gotten close, though it didn't seem to care about me – I turned around and aimed, yet didn't fire. That thing roamed around until disappearing in the rain, still shaking its head; it looked almost pathetic. Once it was gone, I finally came to my senses and continued towards the church; a tall angular building made out of light brown bricks. Its door wasn't locked – maybe I could have expected this, given all the previous events. As the heavy wooden door closed behind me, I fell down against it and swept water from my face – leaving behind a messy trail of diluted blood, as the wound on my hand was bleeding again.


Flashlight's pillar moved across the hall; a high room with ivory walls and three round pillars on each side. Between them stood several wooden benches; a narrow aisle ran through and led to a wooden table on the opposite side; some candlesticks and a silvery chalice stood on top of it. I placed the bag down and started walking slowly around. Air was cold and stale, a faint scent of burned candles floated among it. Some paintings were hung on the walls – most of them were completely unfamiliar to me, as they depicted religious scenarios and characters. There was a crucifix as well, placed above the wooden table. I stared at it while wet clothes made me shiver; faint echoes of rain traversed the hall.

An intensely red velvet was attached to the table's bottom side. It reached the floor, so that the table top was resting on a red, uneven pedestal. Another much smaller table was standing immediately on the left: an old Bible laid on it. On both sides of this altar, equally far away from it, were two shrine-like assemblies: candle stands in front of complicated paintings. A few candles were still left there – they seemed somewhat recently used. The same didn't apply to the Bible, as it creaked loudly when I opened it. However, nothing in the hall seemed actually worthwhile. This made sense, of course, since bringing dead back to life wasn't a very Christian idea.

In one of the hall's corners was a small wooden door, firmly locked. I cursed quietly, turned around and sat on the closest bench, bumping against something: a brown handbag. Nothing extraordinary; just a common handbag left on the seat, tiny bit open. I became restless; the feeling of being watched almost made me stand up. Was someone else behind the locked door? I waited for any signs or sounds, yet none arrived. Once my nerves calmed down I was able to inspect the bag's contents: small mirror, comb, black leather gloves, earrings – and a faintly pink coffee ticket. A picture of coffee cup was printed next to the following writing:

With this pass one free coffee

Cafe Sun

There was another picture on the backside: a cartoony yet detailed depiction of the titular celestial object. While turning this piece of paper around, something started bothering me again. There wasn't really anything special about the ticket itself – given my situation, it might have been the most useless thing possible – but the name of the cafe sounded familiar. Reason for this was rather simple: I had seen it on the town's map. Indeed, the cafe was located in the eastern part, in Central Silent Hill; a region filled with small businesses, shops and public services. They all had to be deserted, of course, so there was no point in holding on to the ticket. I returned it to the handbag, leaned against the bench and closed my eyes.

My only form of proper transport was gone, so I was stuck in the town – with those things wandering outside, among the bizarre rain. Yet the hopelessness barely mattered anymore: I just needed to know how one uses the white oil. If there was even the slightest chance of bringing Fae back, I would try it; no matter how lunatic it was. The town had guided me somehow; everything had happened for a reason (and that reason is still unknown to me). Once this idea finally became clear, I grabbed the ticket again – perhaps I was supposed to visit this cafe.

Shivering made me stand up and walk around. While doing so, I went through a few pages from the notebook – Marsden had talked about the cult's origin story: how man and woman made offerings to the sun, and that's how their god was born. So was the name of this cafe a hint towards the ritual? It certainly seemed like one; both the ticket and that green book's note were meant for me, as absurd as that feels like. I returned on the bench while trying to make decisions. Waiting for this weather to change wasn't an option; I could feel it – and almost even seeit. All the raindrops, their massive configuration, falling down from endless nothing; it would never end.

I walked slowly to the door while inspecting the revolver – five bullets remained. Probably enough, since those creatures were slow and even they seemed to follow certain laws of nature – in other words, one could kill them. I set the gun down and picked up the map, trying to fight against my trembling hands: over the bridge, then right, then left. Not too far away; I could just run past everything. Before leaving, I secured my notebook and the red book with some plastic bags, and made sure the oil bottle was tightly closed. Then I stepped outside.


Curtain of water fell down from the roof's edge; pouring noise of rain filled my thoughts. Buildings around me were just black angular shapes against the faintly brighter sky. I started running – the bridge across river would be right in front of me, just behind the next crossroads. Every now and then I looked at my soaked feet: the street was waving, completely covered by thin bed of water. Black ripples everywhere, carrying something gray on top of them; like something burned. I stopped abruptly and turned left; there was a fire hydrant in the walkway's corner. Its top had burst open, seemingly exploded, though no water was coming out.

Next to the hydrant stood an ornamental tree; someone sat in front of it. Another faceless humanoid with horns, kneeled down as if praying. Once the flashlight's pillar hit its back, a spark appeared; bright sphere of flames swallowed the tree, ate every leaf and branch within seconds – yet kept burning. I fell down; raindrops sparkled like amber, the street around me glittered. That thing stood up slowly, its silhouette drawn on fire. I still don't know how, but it screamed. It twitched and started sprinting towards me; I shot it while pulling myself up. Blood splashed from its leg, agonized cry followed. As the creature fell against the bed of water, another one appeared; it shambled on the border between darkness and the fire's glow. I turned around and started running again, that was all – otherwise those things would have killed me. Movement felt effortless; there was no tiredness nor fatigue. I had never before experienced anything like that; being influenced by fear of death.

A gas station – and a partially open door. I pushed myself through the gap; pile of spare tires and some metallic cabinets blocked it. Halfway through; then one of those creatures grabbed my left arm. I can feel it while writing this – that cold, wet suction of its skin. One gunshot was enough to get free, while my jacket got marked with several cuts; drawn with long fingernails. I turned around and bumped against a blue SUV – though I barely realized what it was; just another obstacle. Next to it stood wooden and metallic tables – a car engine was lifted on them, with piles of related components and items surrounding it. Loud clatter emerged as the creature forced itself inside; it fell on the floor along with several shelves.

The room was way too small; I had to squeeze past the car and all the industrial junk – this thing grabbed my ankle and pulled me down. For half a second I saw its rubbery, twitching face devoid of any expression; only the nose, breathing violently. I panicked, fired again and crawled further; the creature screamed. It hit the car with its hand and stood up furiously. It pushed the engine down, then both of the tables. Pile of oil-soaked components got free and rattled on my clothes; smeared them with black spots. Several wrenches and a heavy power tool crashed right next to me, producing a cacophonic collection of sounds. Within the same moment, I stretched my arm and shot the creature once more; blood splattered against the opposing wall as bullet passed through its head. Lifeless corpse stumbled down, hitting a cabinet and the fallen engine on its way.

Shock had taken me over; all I could hear was my heartbeat and this hellish, high-pitched whistling. I jumped on two feet and looked around in pure confusion. There was blood on the walls and the floor, on my jacket as well: these bright, red streaks. They felt staged, as if simply painted with watercolours and a thin brush. Movements felt weightless; this weird sensation of relief appeared, though I couldn't understand why. Something was resting on the floor, bulky shape with smooth corners: that fallen power tool. A circular steel cutter without blade guard. Next to it, some bizarre items. I recall that quiet, utter disbelief while staring at them: three fingers. Apparently from my left hand.

I pushed a wide door open; everything around me was turning clockwise. Another garage for car repairs. Next, a smaller door – rain fell on me. Only then I looked at the blood-soaked palm already wrapped in wet medical gauze; a row of skewed yet precise cuts on its right side. Above them was nothing, even if I could swear otherwise. Just blood; all shades of red together, seeping out. I collapsed and almost fainted, yet continued stumbling forward; through a courtyard bordered by brick walls. Third door – it wasn't locked. I practically fell inside, shut the door and leaned against a pile of cardboard boxes. I pulled the gauze roll from the bag and started folding it tightly around the cuts, losing more and more consciousness by each movement. Felt like the hand belonged to someone else; I was just delivering crude first aid. It couldn't have been mine – simply impossible.

Once red colour stopped seeping out, I gave up. Everything went black and remained so for a very long time.