Sunday, October 10, 2010

Silent Hill Sunday #10: "Fan Fiction Ahoy!"

I suppose the phrase "inspired by" would be more accurate than calling this fan fiction, but this story obviously takes place in the Silent Hill universe, with specific references to the events of Silent Hill and Silent Hill 2.

So what are you about to read? Something I wrote for a class about six years ago. I can't decide if it's brilliant or bullocks, so maybe you'd be kind enough to tell me what you think.

Without further ado: "Lost!"

Leonard Davis awoke in a cold, iron bed. He sat bolt upright, knocking off the dingy covers, and surveyed the space around him. The lighting was dim, but he could tell that he had never been in the tiny room before. A faint odor permeated the air around him. He couldn’t quite place it – it was a cross between blood and rotten meat – but it was very distinct and overpoweringly repugnant. His heart pounded viciously.

The only thing Leonard could recall was an air raid siren sounding somewhere in the distance. But every time he tried to remember, every time he thought about the sirens, horror crept into his soul. At length, he decided there was nothing he could do except figure out what had happened.

He peered out the window of the gloomy, rundown room. It was still light outside, but a thick fog prevented him from seeing much. He could tell he was on the second floor of the building, and on the street below, he could make out a faint movement of some sort.

It looked humanoid, but he hesitated to call it human.

Leonard yanked himself from the window. He bumped into a small table next to his bed that he had not noticed before. A small orange prescription bottle fell to the ground. Leonard hesitated for a moment, then picked the bottle up. He shook it and it rattled. He opened the bottle and peered inside.


Leonard’s pulse increased. He stared at the name on the label: Mary. The rest had been blackened out, apparently by marker.


Someone screamed. Leonard realized it was him. Outside the room, a heavy, metallic object had fallen. He could still hear small pieces trickling down like raindrops on the pavement.

Before putting the bottle back on the table, he unconsciously reread the label: Maria.


He dropped the bottle.

Creeping over to the door, he noticed an old clock on the wall above the doorway. The glass faceplate bore deep cracks and the hands had stopped moving long ago. He could hardly see the time through the grimy, shattered faceplate, but the clock had stopped at 6:59. Leonard impulsively looked at his own watch, a black digital Timex. It was 14 minutes after midnight.

He gazed out the window once more into the foggy daylight.

Readjusting the collar of his worn leather jacket, Leonard cautiously opened the heavy, sticky door and peered outside. To his right, there was an empty hallway. To his left, he saw the source of the unnerving noise: Part of the ceiling had collapsed. He stared through the hole it had made into the gray sky. Fog slithered into the corridor like a snake through trees; frayed wires flailed from the ceiling like vines. Leonard reached out and grabbed one. Dead. Cold and dead. It hadn’t carried electricity in years.

Leonard knew that he couldn’t go around the fallen ceiling, so he started down the right hall. The rhythmic taping of his leather boots echoed through the lonely hallway. Walking through the empty corridors, he saw not a single soul. The building – or at least, the part he was standing in – was completely empty.

As he explored, Leonard remembered something he had read in a newspaper about a man and his daughter – What was the name? Manson? Greyson? – who had gone vacationing around this area a few years back and simply vanished. Could it be that this is what happened to them? Perhaps they experienced these same bizarre events. Perhaps he would run into them.

The only light in the hallway was coming from the open room and the fresh hole in the ceiling. Leonard could see little besides doors and room numbers. As he walked, he tried to open each door he passed, but he had no luck; they were all locked. As he slowly traveled down the hallway, he ran his hand against the concrete wall. Small pieces broke off and fell to the ground. His fingers turned green with mold.

He was almost to the end of the corridor when he stopped. Leonard was scarcely able to make out a small scratching noise. It sounded like something was trying to claw its way out of one of the rooms. Leonard stood still. His uneven breathing matched his unstable legs and his fear mounted as he listened.

The scratching became snarling, an awful cross between a wolf, a tiger, and a bear. Leonard could hear the struggle. Glass shattered and something heavy was being tossed about like a rag doll.

Leonard ran back to the source of the noises, room 302. He had tried the door just a few moments ago, and it was locked. He put his hand on the doorknob. It felt unusually warm. Turning it, he found it was still locked. Something large hit a wall. Next he could hear something being torn, and a sickening crunch.

Then, silence.

After a moment or two, Leonard cautiously put his ear up to the door and listened. Nothing. He got a little closer, putting his hands on the door to hold his balance. Still nothing. He moved his closer still to the door, trying to get – THUD!

Something hit the door so hard he felt it vibrate in his ear. Leonard recoiled from the doorway and stared at it with wild eyes. Instinct told him to run.

The door slowly swung open with an agonizing creek.

He stared at the slightly open door for a moment. Under normal circumstances, he would not have gone in. But these weren’t normal circumstances. For some reason, he felt a sense of familiarity.

He crept into the room, opening the door just enough to fit inside. The repulsive rotting smell hung in the air, but this time, it was so strong that Leonard had to pull his shirt up to his nose in a half-hearted attempt to block it. The room had no windows. It was black as night.

A single beam of light pierced the darkness and illuminated the walls. Blood trickled down them; tiny rivers that mingled with the mold and grime. Leonard followed the beam back to its source, a flashlight on the floor. As he picked it up, something brushed against his fingers. He pointed the light downward. On the floor was a severed arm, clad in a black leather jacket just like his. The skeletal hand was missing almost all of its flesh. The skin had not merely rotted away – it had been torn off like a glove. He jumped back.

His sudden movement caused something to drop out of his top pocket. He moved the light across the ground searching for the mystery object. Within seconds, the beam landed on his wallet. It had opened when it hit the ground, scattering credit cards all over. Leonard was about to leave the wallet behind when he noticed a picture of a woman and a little boy, about seven years old, stuck in one of the clear plastic sleeves.

“Jesus Christ! How could I have forgotten about them? What the hell happened to my family?!”

Leonard began to panic. Where had they gone? They couldn’t last five minutes in an place like this. They were probably already –

He needed to start looking for them. At least, he needed to start looking for his son, Daniel. He could somehow sense that his wife, Meghan, was not in danger. Whether she was far away from this evil place or if she was stranded in a room like he had been made no difference to him. That meant she was safe, at least for now. But Daniel… he needed his father’s help.

He scooped the photograph off the ground and returned it to his pocket, mashing his hand against the small radio he had forgotten he had. It didn’t matter anyway; the radio had no batteries. Waving his hand instinctively, he tore out of the room and down the corridor. Using the flashlight, he noticed a door at the end of end of the hallway he had missed before. He wondered whether he had really missed the door, or if it hadn’t been there until now.

He pushed it open with all his might. Caution was no longer an option; the father needed to find Daniel as quickly as possible. The heavy door screeched loudly, bits of rust falling into Leonard’s hair as he walked through. He began to run once more, until something he heard stopped him. He stood still and listened.


But not normal whispers. Whispers speaking some alien tongue. Quiet, menacing voices. They surrounded him. He began to feel claustrophobic. His heart raced once more as terror took over. The door behind him made a small clicking noise, jarring Leonard out of his terrified daze. He put his hand on the doorknob and yanked it with all his might.

It was locked.

The whispers continued, soft and sinister. Leonard’s chest ached with horror. He rushed down hallway after black, vacant hallway, each door locking instantly behind him, forcing him forward. At last, Leonard found himself in the final room of the seemingly endless corridors.

The door locked behind him as he entered. The voices subsided for a moment and Leonard took the opportunity to examine his surroundings. The room was clearly lit by a single bulb hanging from the middle of the cracking, neglected ceiling. The walls were in no better shape; cracks in the sheet rock made Leonard wonder if the room was structurally sound. “Who Are You?” inquired a poster hung at a slant from a single tack. There were two old wooden chairs in the middle of the room, facing each other, and a television in the corner, though there was no outlet for it to be plugged in to.

A pipe, nearly three feet long, dangled from the ceiling in the upper left corner of the room. Leonard grabbed it with both hands and jerked it out of the wall. He had the sinking feeling he was going to need it very soon. As he examined the weapon, he noticed a noise - drip, drip. Then again – drip, drip, drip. The walls began to turn red. Leonard stared for a moment before he realized it wasn’t the walls that were turning red. It was the light itself.

He gazed at the hanging light bulb as it filled, drop by drop, with blood. Slowly at first, then quicker and quicker. From outside the windowless room, the air raid sirens blared. Leonard was beside himself with terror and fell to his knees, screaming.

The light bulb burst, killing the light and drenching Leonard in hot blood. The flashlight fizzled out. Leonard’s radio began to crackle loudly, despite its lack of batteries. Behind him, the lock clicked. In the darkness, something crept into the room and shut the door. He was alone with it. Leonard was alone with the creature. His radio buzzed wildly.

Leonard was running on pure adrenaline now. His heart hammered in his rib cage. He readied the pipe. All he could do was swing away in the dark and hope to hit the menacing being. If there was any chance of getting out alive, of rescuing Daniel or seeing Meghan again, he had to take it.

Suddenly, the television flipped on, displaying static. Leonard could see his adversary’s reflection in the screen- gray skinned and wiry; enormous, black eyes. It was right behind him.

It saw him too. Its gaze sent shivers down his spine.

Before the creature could comprehend what had happened, Leonard spun around and swung the pipe as hard has he could. The sickening sound of metal on bone echoed through the small room. Leonard felt something warm splash against his face and the creature hit the floor with a thud. The radio stopped buzzing. Leonard instinctively brushed the bits if brain and skull off his jacket.

Something compelled him to look at his watch. The time was 6:59 a.m., the same as the broken clock in the room he had woke up in.

“What the hel?!” Leonard exclaimed. “It was just midnight!”

Taking the pipe with him, he dashed out of the room. The creature remained on the floor, its gray, blood-soaked skin bathed in the light of the unplugged television.

Everything had changed. Dingy, concrete walls had become rusty iron and steal cages. Each of Leonard’s frantic footsteps brought with it another metallic clang. The ceiling was coiled barbed wire. It did nothing to keep the black of the night out of the structure that was once a brick and mortar building.

Still working off of the adrenaline rush, Leonard spotted a staircase leading down. He jumped every other step, and in seconds, he was staring at the doorway leading out of the building. He ran towards it, but stopped when he noticed a phone on what he assumed was the reception desk. He picked up the receiver. No dial tone. He rammed the receiver back in the cradle and started for the exit once more.

The phone’s ring pierced the silence like a steel-tipped arrow. Leonard halted immediately. Should he answer? The phone rang once more, and he walked back to the desk. He cautiously picked up the receiver.


“Daddy! Where are you? Daddy, help me, please!”


The line went dead. Leonard stared helplessly at the phone. Abruptly, he placed the receiver on the desk, next to its cradle, and bolted to the exit.

The door was locked. In a fit of rage, Leonard raised the pipe and struck the doorknob over and over until it broke off. Then he delivered a thunderous kick, knocking the door open. Leonard stepped outside and looked at the building in which he had been trapped. A sign above the door read “Brookhaven Hospital.” He stared in confusion for a moment at the sign, then started sprinting down the street. While running, he smacked the side of the flashlight with the pipe. The light returned and Leonard used it to cut through the darkness.

He needed to find Daniel, but Leonard had no idea where to start looking. He stopped his frantic dash and paused to breathe. Looking around for the first time since he left the hospital, he found himself standing on a lonely, silent hill. Leonard sat down in the middle of the road, hoping to figure out what to do next. Before he could begin to sort everything out, he heard something. Through heavy breaths, he listened. His radio began to crackle once again, quietly at first, but then unmistakably loud. More creatures were on the way.

Leonard was on his feet in seconds, sprinting as fast as he could down the street. His heart throbbed even harder than it had before. But he had to keep going. He could see the glimmer of their huge, black eyes through the trees on the sides of the road as he ran. The moon reflected off of them like black pearls. There must have been at least ten pairs of eyes.

The radio buzzed even louder. They were behind him; he could hear them. But he dare not turn around. He desperately wished to stop and rest, but to do so would mean certain death. He had to keep running, for Daniel’s sake.

Leonard turned down a shadowy street and found himself in an alley. His chest was a mass of pain as he jogged down it. His flashlight sputtered out once more and Leonard threw it down in disgust and despair.

He hit a dead end. Leonard stared at the chain link fence blocking his path. The air raid sirens rang out in the background once more; Leonard had no idea when they had started again. But it didn’t matter. He had no strength left. He would have to try to hide somewhere in the alley. But before he could think of a good hiding place, he noticed something grotesque out of the corner of his eye.

There, right beside him, was a man hanging on the chain link fence. His face was so badly mutilated, Leonard could barely make him out as human. It looked as if he had been crucified.

“What is this!?” Leonard exclaimed.

The man was clad in a black leather jacket, just like his. He reached out to touch the hanging man, but he stopped before his fingers brushed the jacket. Leonard had been distracted by his watch. He suddenly forgot everything but the watch. Pushing the glow button, the time was illuminated for him to see: 6:66 a.m.

The radio buzzed out of control. Leonard felt several pairs of hands on his back and arms. He screamed as deafeningly as his lungs would allow, tearing his vocal chords to meaty shreds. He could taste the blood as it built up in his throat. His pulse was beating too fast. Too fast!

With one final, pathetic scream, Leonard’s heart burst. His lifeless body fell crippled to the ground, blood oozing from his nose and mouth out into the darkness.

*   *   *

“He keeps talking about monsters in his sleep, doctor,” said the nurse.

“Monsters? Is that what they looked like to him?” replied the doctor, looking up from a medical chart.

“What do you mean?” The nurse changed the I.V. connected to a needle in the patient’s arm.

“Well, they tell me that he went insane one day and bashed his wife’s skull in with a lead pipe,” replied the doctor. “Then he went looking for his son. Thank God the police were able to subdue him. Cornered him in some alley.” A moment passed in silence. The doctor made a mark on the chart with a red pen. “Something happened to him during the capture, though.”

“Did the police rough him up?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s something I can’t really explain it,” the doctor said, moving towards the exit. “The second the police touched him, he went into a coma. It’s as if he didn’t want anyone to know what was going on in his head, so he simply shut himself down.” The doctor turned and began walking down the hallway. “Oh, and thank you for your help today.”

The nurse nodded.

“One more thing. Please do me a favor and turn off the light when you leave.”

“Of course, doctor,” replied the nurse. The doctor disappeared down the dimly lit hallway.

Walking to the door, she flicked off the light. The moonlight shone into the room and reflected off of her huge, black eyes.

No comments:

Post a Comment