• I stand in front of the dingy mirror, looking at my greasy reflection. I see tired eyes, eyes that have seen horrible things, death. Before I tell you what happened in this god-forsaken town, I should tell you why I am here. I am James Sunderland. I am 29 years old. I am married. Or should I say was married? My wife… poor, lovely Mary… Three years ago, she contracted a horrible disease. I took her to every doctor and specialist in the state. The doctors were baffled, and so my sweet Mary… she died. Every day since that dismal day, I have been in mourning. I have hardly slept; I wandered back and forth from town to town. I was lost.

    Last week I received a letter in the mail. On the envelope there was a name written. Mary Shephard-Sunderland. My wife. The letter begged me to return to our “special place”. I knew at once that I should return to the town where Mary and I were married. Silent Hill.

    I was nearly there when my car spluttered and died. The engine wouldn’t turn over, so I got out and went into the small public restroom on the side of the road. After seeing nothing was there, I walked out to my car and picked up the map of Silent Hill. Folding it carefully, I pushed back the tears once more as I thought, Could Mary really be here? The dead can’t write letters, but here I am because of what the letter says-- and who it is from. Is Mary alive somehow? Does she know I’m here? I walked through the fog (thick and choking, can’t see through it) toward the highway that led toward town. As I drew near, I saw that the road was blocked with what was either a construction project or the scene of a major accident. I turned and returned to my car. I sat on the dented hood and pulled out my map. There has to be some way into town besides the highway. I remembered the old path before I saw it on the map. It wound through the forest near Toluca Lake, and came out near Vacchs Road. The reason I remember is that I walked that path with Mary when we were children and even as we grew into teenagers. We used to go up and down that path all day, just talking…

    I took one last look at my car, our beaten-up old Honda, and turned towards the stairs that led to the path. I paced down the concrete stairs and reached the bottom. My car was now about fifteen feet above me, staring me down as if I should not go there. I shivered a little bit and continued down the rain-sodden trail. After walking for about five minutes, I opened and crossed through the familiar iron gate, signifying that I had officially entered my worst nightmare.

    The old iron gate squeaked with all the years it hadn’t been opened, and I shut it behind me. Suddenly, I was face-to-face with the old cemetery. There were probably about six rows of tombstones, but it was hard to tell through the deep fog. (Why is it so foggy? It’s never this foggy…) I shivered as I walked past the aged, crumbling headstones. Unexpectedly, a figure appeared before me, the first humanoid figure I had seen since my arrival. I moved closer to the silent silhouette, with its head bowed. I realized that it was a woman. She was dressed for cold weather, a thick sweater, fuzzy boots. Who are you? I said. The woman turned towards me with a fearful expression on her face. Who are you? She replied. My name is James, I responded. You shouldn’t be here, she retorted. Why not? I questioned. Strange things have been happening here… the fog… those monsters… Why are you here? she finished. I slowly answered, I’m… looking… for someone. The woman was quiet for a few minutes. Then, You really shouldn’t be here… I asked, What’s your name? She stood there for a moment, contemplating. I’m Angela. I really should go now. And before I could say anything else, Angela had disappeared before my eyes into the fog. I tried to chase her down, but the entire graveyard was empty. (Where did she go?) I gave up on the search for this woman called Angela and headed back to the trail towards town. In the distance, I heard the waves on Toluca Lake pound against the craggy beach. It was getting windy, and I began to get cold as I continued up the trail. After about twenty minutes’ walk the trail merged with the highway-side, and I came upon an old building. I think it was a gas station, but the pumps were tore out and missing. I walked inside the deserted shack. It was full of snack items and cold drinks. I picked up an energy drink –Rockstar- and walked towards the counter. I unexpectedly saw blood. Behind the counter was a body. Well, not exactly. It was a rotting mass of flesh and blood. I couldn’t even tell if it was a man or woman. I threw up a little bit in my throat and backed away from the putrid mound. I dropped the Rockstar and ran to the dingy public restroom. I vomited into the filthy toilet. It was the most unsettling thing I had seen- that is, until I got to town.

    After I completed vomiting, I stepped out of the restroom gingerly. I grabbed a can of air freshener off the shelf and sprayed the small counter where the morbid mound was. I grasped for the energy drink and sprinted out the door. What happened to that person? Why aren’t the police here? Where is everyone? I wondered as I reached Vacchs Road. Still, I saw no one. No people, living or dead, only an occasional abandoned car or truck. I knocked on a few house doors. Nobody answered. I continued down the road until I reached an intersection. I turned right and vigilantly paced down the empty street. In a few minutes, I reached a dead end. What I saw there was appalling.

    There was the lifeless body of a man, I would say not much older than I, ripped in two pieces. His intestines lay on the concrete, blood-spattered hand and footprints covering the ground and picket fence nearby. I turned, horrified, for an instant, and then my eyes were mysteriously drawn to the carcass. I noticed a key on a blue and white checkered lanyard on the ground next to the hand, covered in blood. I inched towards the remains and swiftly seized the key. I turned away and saw a creature behind a wooden construction fence. It had its arms crossed in front of it, but that was not all I noticed about this strange creation. Its arms appeared to be stitched onto its abdomen. It looked like a man in a straitjacket, with horribly disfigured facial features, a cavernous mouth that made it look like it was screaming, and huge feet. I pulled a 2x4 piece of wood off the picket fence. A few nails were stuck in the tip of it, the end opposite of the end I grabbed. I drew closer to the thing and swung the improvised club at the thing’s torso. The thing made a screeeech noise as I struck it. A hole opened up on its torso (not from my strike) and an acrid brown mist poured out. I held my breath and beat the thing to the floor until it stopped breathing. Then I beat it a little bit more to make sure it was dead. A random movie quote floated through my head, Always double tap. I have seen too many zombie films…

    I didn’t know what the thing was, or how it was made, so I pulled out the little note pad I kept with me and drew a hasty sketch and description. I named it a “Lying Figure” because of the way it lay on the ground. After that, I looked at the key I had grabbed a bit closer. The words “Woodside Apartments” were laser-engraved on both sides of the key. Woodside…A thought popped into my head. That was where Mary and I stayed together before we moved out of city. Immediately I had a sensation that some answers were at the apartments.

    I stared at the map for a few minutes, figuring out where I was, and where I needed to be. Then, I began to walk to the Woodside Apartments. Suddenly, after I had stepped a couple hundred feet down the main road, I slipped. Looking down, a saw what I had stood in. A pool of dark red blood. I jumped out of the inch deep puddle and looked around. Nothing. No body parts covered in red, no monsters like the one I just killed. (what is it?) I saw huge bloody footprints leading away in the direction of the apartments. If there are monsters there, too, then I need to figure out a plan if I meet them. I then decided to go back where I found the key (shredded flesh) to see that creature again. So I retraced my steps back to the small lane where the corpse was. As I drew near, I smelt the now-familiar smell of death. And heard something. It was a static-like sound, like white noise on the television when cable is out. The sound grew louder, and as I reached my monster, I saw it. A little radio. The noise was coming from it. I picked it up and held it to my ear. This is what I heard: Jam…..Hel…James…. Where are…. Sav… HELP…It was the voice of Mary. I dropped the radio as I heard my deceased wife’s voice for once in three years. I picked up the radio (now badly scratched) and put it to my ear. No noises anymore besides the high-pitched sound of the white noise. I switched the power off and shoved the receiver into my crowded pocket. Then I resumed my walk to the Woodside.

    I stood facing the Woodside Apartments. The entrance on the right side of the property was locked, as I found out a few minutes earlier. I stepped to the left side of the barbed-wired barrier (not there when we lived here) and saw another opening. It was a gate. I tried it. It was corroded and jammed, so I kicked it firmly and it squeaked open. I entered the property. The door loomed in front of me, glaring at me. I stepped to the old wood door. It made a small groan as it slowly opened and I looked into the darkness. A few steps into the abandoned building and I saw a ripped bit of paper on the floor about ten feet away from me. I softly walked over and looked at it. It had been folded three times and part of it had a large piece ripped off it. I unfolded it and saw that it was a map. A map of the apartment complex. It was too dim to read, so I went outside and looked at it. It showed all three floors and the open-air plaza. I folded it up carefully and deposited in my pocket. I turned back to the door and entered once more. I walked toward the courtyard door and twisted the handle. Locked. If that is locked then I’ll just have to go upstairs… I ascended the stairway to the second floor. It grew to be more or less completely dark. I could not see but three feet in front of me. The only light came from the cracks in the wood of the boarded windows. I stumbled nearly-blindly to the rotted door. I pushed it open and fell into the passage ahead.

    There was a light just ahead of me in the hallway, and a glowing red EXIT sign above me. I walked toward the light in the hallway and pulled out my map. I could barely read it. I stuffed it back into my pocket. I decided to investigate the rooms, and try to find our previous room. After a minute or so of wandering blindly through the darkness, I felt a door handle on the wall. A door. I looked up to the number engraved in the wood. It read 205. I gasped. It was the apartment Mary and I lived in. I fumbled with the handle and opened the door. I walked into the living room. A steel and plastic shopping cart sat in the center of the room. How strange... I stared into the shopping cart. A handgun- I recognized it as a Colt .45- and ammunition lay in the bottom, glinting in the low light. I picked them up. I deposited the bullets into my only vacant pocket left and lay the wooden plank along the wall. Now I have a good weapon. I turned and entered our previous bedroom.

    In our bedroom, the softened bed lay there, sagging. But what surprised me was that there was a mannequin like you would imagine in a department store, standing right there next to the bed. I looked closer and saw that it was dressed in what looked like Mary’s clothes that she was wearing in the photo I held in my scruffy leather wallet. Where did these come from? I saw a lump in one of the pockets, and reached in. There was a small flashlight in the pocket. I clipped it to my breast pocket and turned it on.

    Behind the department store mannequin, was another monster. It was half-human, female, with two sets of legs, set on top of each other, no torso, no head, or arms. The top set of legs was missing feet and was covered in the red that I now knew was blood. It stood unmoving behind the mannequin in the dark, stock-still. Hello? I called. At the sound of my voice, the creature came to life, and lurched towards me. It swung its top pair of legs at me, hitting me in the chest. I was knocked backward a few steps, and I raised my gun. I fired into the thing’s midsection (where am I supposed to shoot it?) three times. It fell over, and violet blood poured out of its trembling remains. I shuddered and turned away. So now, I had found a different variety of monster. I nervously, and a bit irrationally, giggled.

    I turned back to the deceased monster I would call a “Mannequin” and sketched it in my little notebook. I backed out of the bedroom and entered the kitchen. It smelt like rotten eggs. I looked into the open fridge and confirmed that. I slammed the door shut, sealing off the foul stench. I turned and opened the cabinets. Nothing except a sealed can of Rockstar, which I drank even back then. Why is this the only thing left? I shrugged and placed the energy drink in my pocket with the other one. I turned and exited our apartment. I switched on the flashlight. Suddenly, an impulse to turn back on the broken radio came over me. I pulled it out of my pocket, looked at it for a second, shrugged, and then switched it on. The white noise came on again. I put the radio back in my pocket, the white noise muffled.

    I stepped back outside our room. The faint corridor was lit up by the intensity emanating from my newly discovered flashlight. I noticed posters on the opposite wall, advertisements that were at least fifteen years old. I shrugged and turned towards the stairway door. All of a sudden, the white noise from the radio intensified, and I heard what sounded like a scream in the midst of the static. What was that? I thought aloud. A few more steps onward and I saw it. A Straightjacket lay there, facedown on the decorated woven carpet. It shrieked and gradually staggered up. I lifted my handgun. I aimed for its head and shot. The blast missed by a mile. I tripped backwards and fired again. The bullet hit the monster in the collarbone. It cried out as dark-violet blood spurted from the wound. It lurched toward me weakly, and fell facedown. Its legs jerked a few times, and then were still. I shot it in the rear just to make sure it was dead. I paced around the lifeless mutant. The hallway lit up as I tread farther. I decided to investigate the rest of the apartment building.

    The next door I came to was marked 210. How did I not notice rooms 206, 207, 208, or 209? Anyways, I twisted the tarnished handle and pushed the jammed door. It slid open heavily. I heard earsplitting, high-pitched white noise, coming not from my radio, but from a small TV set. There was a high-backed chair in front of it, blocking most of the light. I stepped closer, and realized that the chair that sat there was blood-soaked. I looked down into the chair. There I perceived the mutilated carcass of a man. I would say he was about fifty years old. His abdomen ripped open, exposing a torn stomach, revealing half-digested food. His face held an appearance of utmost terror. His arms stuck out from his body at an unyielding angle, in objection of whatever did this to him. I gasped in shock and horror. Then I saw the nametag sewn onto his maintenance shirt.

    His name is Josef Wagner… It sounded familiar... I turned away and explored the rest of his apartment. In the bedroom, I pulled a sheet off his bed, brought it out, and covered his body with it. Then, I checked the rest of the room. In his bedroom I found ammunition for the gun I held in my right hand. I put the bullets into my pocket. In the kitchen, I found another energy drink. This time it was a Monster. I shrugged. Might as well take it… My pockets now felt loaded and bulky. I plucked out the first can of liquid energy, set down the gun, and popped the tab. It fizzed for a moment, and then I put it to my lips and drank. I downed the can, and dropped it into the small trashcan in the kitchen. I immediately felt energized. It was probably because my pockets were a bit lighter.

    I opened the hall doorway, looked back once at Wagner, and stepped back into the hall. The cherry neon EXIT sign was growing dimmer. I do not know whether the batteries were running out, or if it just looked dimmer because of my flashlight. But for some reason I became deeply claustrophobic. The walls seemed to close in on me. The hallway seemed to become shorter. I began to take notice of something bizarre. Low murmuring, mostly garbled, rang in my ears. I distinguished two separate voices, a male, and a female. They sounded like they were arguing. I heard this: why do you... don’t act like…Come back! Then I heard a high-pitched scream. I dropped the gun, and pushed my hands against my ears. The frightening voices couldn’t be drowned out. They seemed to come from within my skull. I began to panic. However, before I could do anything, the claustrophobia and voices stopped. What was that? I wondered aloud.

    I was still shaken by this phenomenon, so I found my way hastily back to the stairwell door. I yanked it open and stumbled through onto the stairs. I swiftly sprinted down the uneven stairs, my light bouncing up and down violently. I came down to the ground floor and walked over to the doorway. I pulled the heavy wood door open and slid out. I stood outside, the chilly winter air shocking my face. I breathed coldly. I slid down and sat there on the ground for a few minutes before realizing something. I left my gun up on the second floor. I dropped it when that feeling arrived. I sat cross-legged on the now-icy concrete, shivering.

    I remember going back into the apartment building against my conscience to get the gun. Slowly I crept back into the entrance hall and towards the stairs. The hall seemed different from before. I felt a sensation of hopelessness instead of rage and terror. I almost thought I heard a sob from somewhere behind me on the staircase. I turned around quickly and turned my light onto the wall behind me. No one was there. I continued up the stairs until I reached the floor where my gun lay. I opened the hallway door. The darkness gave way to light as I walked in. I twisted and proceeded to the spot that my gun lay. I saw a flash of red in the ceiling light above the gun. I stepped over it, my shadow blocking the soft florescent light. As I reached for the gun, a drop of red splattered on my hand. I looked upwards in surprise and saw it.

    Inside the light bulb compartment were distorted body parts. Legs, arms, reaching out for me. They leaked blood over the beam of light onto the floor, pooling around my revolver. I quickly snatched up the bloodstained gun and looked back up into the light. Both the blood and the unsettling remains had vanished. I was puzzled, in an alarmed way. What is going on? Monsters and now spirits? What next? I thought to myself. I was scared, but not like before. Now I was curious. Now I had to find Mary and figure out was going on in this desolate ghost town.

    I continued walking through the deserted corridors of the Woodside Apartments. There was nothing, except for the old posters and advertisements on the flaking wallpaper. I pulled open the door to another room and stepped in. The first thing I noticed about this room was the bullet holes. It looked as if someone had fired an automatic weapon across the walls of the kitchen and living space. The only thing not riddled with holes was the antique grandfather clock, which, strangely, was not harmed at all. I looked closer at it and noticed that there was handwriting on the side of it. It was badly lit, and as I turned away to think, my flashlight shone on the opposite wall. The wall was, unexpectedly, inscribed with three words. Henry Mildred Scott. Next to the three names were symbols, arrows pointing in three different directions. I was puzzled, so I decided to search the apartment more thoroughly. I searched the bedroom, but found nothing except an old four-poster bed; I searched the bathroom, but there was nothing. I went into the living room area, not expecting to find anything. However, for some reason, the room was different than the last time I was in it. It was darker, and my flashlight only showed a three-foot area. I turned the light to the walls and saw that the wallpaper was no longer there. In its place, was red. Blood and flesh covered the walls. As I stared in horror, a face appeared in the midst of the blood. It stared out from its bloody eyes, and screamed.



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