Silent Hill: Static [[PG-13 for Violence and Language]]
Silent Hill: Static
It was a few days ago, somewhere in the middle of August or October. I can’t quite remember exactly. I received a letter in the mail from home, asking me to come back to my hometown of Shelton, Virginia. It seems one of my friends, Isaac, had gone missing. Don’t get me wrong, the guy’s like my brother but I’m halfway across the country, California, to be exact. Why write and ask me to fly all the way there? Coming to defeat I picked up the phone and dialed my old home number to ask what was going on, but instead got a message telling me that the number had been disconnected. Puzzled, I dialed the numbers of my friends; Tristan, Branden, Akacia, Amanda but I still got nothing at all, just the same message over and over. After several tries, getting the repetitive messages I got through, but I only got the eerie sounds of white noise and garbled words. As I went to hang up, convinced it was a technical error, I heard something incredibly chilling; a human scream on the other line, then silence. I tried the number again but go the same “sorry” message.
That’s what compelled me to come back home to Shelton. The town itself is nice. It’s small but not too small, not too big either. It was by the bay, so it rained quite a bit, and fog wasn’t something out of the blue either. The town also sat next to some forestland, which gave you the feeling of being isolated. The people were also quite nice, minus the homeless people that drifted into town and the occasional none too intelligent adolescent. I wanted to find out what was going on and perhaps to locate my missing friend Isaac as well.
The highway was unusually empty tonight, a thick, almost unreal fog hung over the road. I had a difficult time seeing in front of me, and the high beams only made it worse. Driving down the highway was interesting to say the least.
“This fog is insane,” I said to myself, “I can barely see worth sh*t.”
The asphalt was one of the few things I could actually see in the thick fog. On the right side of the road was the guardrail, shielding drivers from driving down a one hundred foot drop to the rocks below and the bay next to it. On the left was a plain, possibly a farm but I couldn’t tell with the fog hanging over the road. As I drove down the road I reached a break in the guardrail where a driveway started, and in the distance I could see the building for Dells Farm Supply; with several families that raised livestock like horses, pigs and chickens the supply store stayed in business and did quite well when I was growing up. Those thoughts started to make me feel more at home, like I was missing something and coming back was reminding me of what it was.
With a sigh I snapped out of the nostalgic trip to memory lane and as soon as I did a dark, quickly moving shape darted in front of my car, and I had to slam on the brakes, ending up slamming into whatever it was, judging by the force it exerted as its body was hurled against the hood of the car. Shaken up, I opened the door and stepped out of my vehicle. The temperature difference from the warm car and the crisp fog made my bare arms break out in goose bumps. I reached inside, grabbing for black hooded sweatshirt and slipped it on over my black ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’ t-shirt.
“Hello?” I called into the empty fog, “Is anyone there?” There was no response to my question, just the same eerie silence broken only by the idling of my cars engine. From the driveway leading to the Farm Suppliers main building, I saw the shape of the creature that darted in front of me. It was stumbling away from me, awkwardly shambling up the hill. I closed the car door, the sound making a dull thump as I followed the creature’s path; it didn’t seem to matter that the car was parked in the middle of the road since the last car was about eight hours behind me. Every car seemed to avoid this road, this place. Why? It seemed weird.
I didn’t seem to have a chance of catching up to it, so I picked up the pace, breaking out in to a short jog, reaching the base of it. Quickly, I made my way up the hill, reaching the top of the hill before stepping through the half rusted fence and observing the old forklifts that have been unattended for ages, the rolled up fencing that was starting to rust and the stack of empty wooden pallets; all of which were fading in and out of view due to the rolling fog and ominous silence.
The silence was broken by rigorous scraping sounds, bumps, and other small and haunting noises. At this point I had been a bit nervous. Why wasn’t anyone here? Why did everything look like it was abandoned and in such disrepair? It didn’t make sense at all. At least not yet.
Gathering my courage I made my way further inside the complex, walking through a large opening which I assumed was used to move freight in and out of the warehouse next to the store. Stepping inside I bent over and picked up a loose rusted pipe from the cold and damp cement. The cold, hard metal tubing in my hand felt very reassuring as I continued into the dark shell of a store. Out of the corner of my eye I swear I saw it again; the shadowy figure of what a presumed to be a man, perhaps a thief, inside the Farm Suppliers main building. Taking a deep breath I started walking inside, looking around at the old bales of hay stacked to the roof, old boxes of salt licks for horses that had long since gone bad and parts for tractor engines. After a few minutes it became hard to see where I was going, but in the dim light I was able to find a clip on flashlight, which, to my surprise and relief worked, shining a bright and momentarily reassuring light into the dark and dank building. Finally, I found the man in question – if you could even call it human. He was completely nude, his skin shiny and wet.
“Umm hello? Are you all right? I hit you with my car… do you need a doctor?” I asked. When I got closer, I knew something was wrong but the gut wrenching sensation as the man turned around to display his face, or lack thereof. Its disfigured arms protruded from its chest and long, sickle like claws on its hands exposed themselves as it lunged right at me. The sound that came next was not of the creatures, but my own scream as I jumped out of its path, moving out of the way. Luckily its claws barley missed my collarbone, when I looked again; blood was trickling down my chest.
Before I knew it, the creature charged again. Sheer terror surged through my veins, my mind racing. Was this a dream? What the hell as that? This time I was prepared, and I swung the pipe in my hands with full force, smashing its remarkably soft skull, hearing the sound of its flesh cracking and squishing under the blunt force trauma, it’s blood gushing out as it flopped on the floor like a fish out of water, screaming even though the sound was muffled. Still pretty freaked out, I slammed the pipe on the body at least eight times before I was sure it was dead, and even then I
was still trembling.
Wiping the blood from my chest, I hurried to my car, running out of the building and getting down the hill, only to find my car in ruin; the windshield shattered, tires shredded, the hood ripped open and the engine destroyed.
“What the…hell?!” I asked in a state of shock.
There were deep claw marks; scrapes in some places, deep gouges in others, the most affected areas being the hood, doors and even parts of the pavement. Whatever I had just killed in that store could have destroyed my car, and if that’s true, does that mean there are more of them? I sure as hell didn’t want to find out. After making a makeshift bandage out of paper towels and duct tape from my glove compartment, I headed down the middle of the fog filled road, carrying my backpack on my back and my new trusty pipe in my right hand. I wanted to find out what was going on, and what that thing was. Normally I would have turned around, but it seemed like fate that I returned home. It was like something was making me stay, some unseen force whose power was way beyond the scope of my comprehension.
As I walked the fog seemed to thicken and thin at random, but for now there wasn’t an immediate threat, so I rested my trusted pipe on my shoulder. After a few minutes of descending the foggy hill I reached a familiar sight; the last intersection leading out of town. To the left was Arcadia Road, to the right was Ridge Road and straight ahead was Cascade Road. The gas station that sat on the right side of the road, right before Ridge Road, was in a desperate state of disrepair. The windows were broken and boarded up, the glass door shattered and several cracks in the cement wall. Curious, I walked across the street, trying to be as attentive as I could for any monsters, or whatever that was and approached the building. The dead silence chilled me to the bone more than the cold air ever could.
Caution got the better of me as I hurried away, trying not to run but not wanting to dawdle; good thing I had, for I sure didn’t want to tangle with the creature inside. I slowed my pace after a while, about a minute or two, passing the gas station at the top of the hill; when gas prices soared a few years ago, the three stations on this hill were in constant competition. If one had unleaded regular for 3.98 per gallon the other would have it for 3.79 and vice versa. On the other side of the road sat the Red Apple grocery store. When I was a kid I would walk here to buy sodas and snacks all the time, especially on the way to work or to the mall sixty miles away, and across from that was the house that my old girlfriend Akacia lived in; she had stayed behind when we all went our separate ways when her father had passed away and her brothers moved out of town, leaving the seventeen year old girl to care for her mother. Since she wasn’t much of a phone person I usually instant messaged her or sent her messages on Myspace.com to let her know I was still alive.
I decided I could afford a detour, crossing the abandoned parking lot; the few cars in the lot were either rusted or just dilapidated. Only a few were intact, but the doors were stuck so I couldn’t open them at all, so I gave up trying. The inside of the store, from what I could see was an inky black. As I stared into it, a chill went down my spine, like someone or something was watching me. I reached her mailbox, the red flag signaling outgoing mail rusted in an upright position. The shrubs around the fence were overgrown, even more so since my last visit about three or four months ago, when everything seemed halfway normal around here. With a deep breath, I prepared myself for what may happen, but little did I know what was in store for me.
This was one hell of a homecoming.
nice! keep up the good work!
((Thanks for the comments!))
The house itself was two stories; the only room upstairs was a bedroom and small crawlspace. The other half of the house was one story though, a small front porch added on and the garage having been added on and converted into a bedroom, albeit a small one. As soon as I reached her mailbox, however, I was overcome with a sense of nervousness in the form of cold sweat, fidgeting, my heart beating faster than usual, or what was usual in this situation anyway. A few years ago when we were dating I was nervous too; I was always so nervous and shy to come over to her house, but I somehow gathered the courage to do it each time, and she would laugh at me and say that I have no reason to be nervous. This time was different. This nervousness I felt was totally different; something felt seriously wrong here.
The overgrown lawn almost obscured the pathway; the hammock that stood in her yard was overtaken by the grass and vines, along with various other plants. It’s insane that all of this growth appeared in just three months. The door was boarded shut from the outside; the boards old and the paint faded and chipping. Something told me that Akacia hadn’t been home in a long time, judging by the overgrowth and the buildup of dust and cobwebs, which made me worry a little bit more. I knew she always got a little annoyed with me when I got worried about her. “I’m fine.” She’d say, followed by a groan of self pride. Deep down she knew I cared for her; she was just too stubborn to believe in it.
“I’ll meet up with her eventually.” I decided to myself; a painful decision, however. Somehow I knew she – like a lot of the old gang- was still here and alive….I hoped. When I had left a year and a half ago, everyone made me promise to come home to visit them. I had never felt so loved at that moment, with all of the hugs and pecks on the cheek that I got and probably will never receive again.
I left her yard, walking across the ominous parking lot of Red Apple market, the empty street separating the grocery store from the twin gas stations on the opposite side. The walk down Cascade Ave wasn’t new for me; when I was younger, and without a car, I would have to walk home a lot. The new element was the sheer emptiness of this place that was never here before.
I jogged down the road instead of running so I wouldn’t be out of breath if I got attacked again. The road forked; the stop sign at the corner still visible, with the yellow pain on the bent side from when my school bus ran into it. It was a substitute drive that day and they had taken the turn too sharply, running into the sign and bending it, leaving yellow paint scraped on the side. I turned right and ascended the hill towards the neighborhoods.
The houses looked fairly normal, only a few were condemned and abandoned. The houses, to me, looked like everyone left in a hurry, as if something really bad had happened here, like a natural disaster in which everyone had to evacuate. But what? What could have happened to a small town to have its residents leave in such a manner in which houses had to be boarded up and vehicles abandoned? Things just weren’t adding up.
I started down the large hill leading down to where I had lived and grown up; Dickinson Ave, stopping to listen whenever I heard something in the bushes, whether it be a scraping or a shuffling sound. For whatever reason or stretch of the imagination or curiosity I checked my cell phone as I walked to find that the screen read “NO SIGNAL”. No cellular towers? That was also weird. Someone had to be here other than me, and someone had to have known what happened here and why Isaac disappeared.
I felt an eerie sense of unwelcome when I reached the base of the hill near the old kennels; pipe ready to go at a moment’s notice. I could still hear the furious snarls and barks of the guard dogs that were once chained up behind there years ago. I hurried down the road, the woods and scotch broom on the left side of the road overgrowing, some of it falling onto the pavement. The houses on the right side gave the same eerie and creepy feeling like the rest of the houses around here, empty and standing in the shifting, chilling fog. The entire trip from the kennels was about two or three minutes, but it felt like hours as I passed two cars that had run into the ditch on the side of the road and some strewn debris such as papers or a Childs toy.
Nearing the end of the road I could faintly see the shadowy outline of my old mailbox at the edge of my driveway. This end of the street seemed to be almost untouched, minus the gaping hole in the chain link fence of my neighbor’s yard and an abandoned white truck in the turnaround off the side of the road. As I got closer, I could see a shadowy figure standing next to my mailbox. Even through the thick fog I could make out that it was shaped like a human, standing just shorter than I am.
“Hey!” I called out, hoping for a response, but instead who or whatever it was hurried down the driveway into the darkness and out of sight.
“Damn it, don’t just ignore me!” I grumbled, taking pursuit, jogging faster than I was earlier but still not flat out running to be on the safe side. The fog thinned slightly as I descended the gentle slope leading to my house. Two large trees grew in the front yard, my old Honda still parked off to the side next to the spot where my grandmother’s motor home sat; Had she and everyone else left in it? Or did she sell it like she was thinking about doing? The stone flowerbox we built one summer was destroyed, half of it broken and destroyed with the flowers scattered around. Quickly, I reached the backdoor; no sign of whom or whatever I saw moments earlier.
The house looked to be intact; it was a one story building, the white paint still looking fairly new with blue trim on the sides, a new kitchen built out on the front yard side and a bedroom added on the other side too. The backdoor, when I tried the knob, was unlocked, to my surprise. Slowly and cautiously, I walked inside. The smell of mold and mildew immediately came to my nose, and I looked and saw the source; the ancient washer we had finally leaked so much with broke through the floorboards in one of its earthquake spin cycles. I told my grandma that we needed a new one several times, but she stayed firm that it worked just fine. The carpet was still damp when I stepped on it, either from recent activity or the cold outside. The door to my sisters’ bedroom was open, sparking my curiosity. I hopped the gap in the floor and looked around. Nothing useful; everything except for the bed and dresser was gone, and even the drawers in the dresser was completely empty. Did everyone here move out without telling me or something? I felt betrayed that my own family didn’t tell me this.
“Maybe….Maybe I should check my room.” I thought, curious if my old stuff was there or not. When I moved out I left some of my things there, such as my dresser, TV, and one of my old katanas I secretly gave to my sister before I left. The door to my room was shut but opened quite easily, creaking on the hinges loudly before falling from its hinges. Fearing making too much noise I eased the door to the ground. My bed and desk were there. In the past, before all this strangeness, the desk I had was small; bought from a garage sale and covered in scratches in the paint and small gouges in the wood. I never repainted it. To me those small imperfections gave it some character. The bed was laying half on the floor and half still on the frame, like someone had been frantically searching for something, throwing the mattress to the side and leaving it. The frame was nothing special; pine wood painted brown with a small cupboard for my stuff at the top.
I know I left more than that behind, so did my family take my stuff with them when they left? Or since the door was unlocked did some thieves take everything? Finding nothing of value I left the room, for whatever reason propping the door back up. The following noise I hear was rather gruesome; a loud scraping noise followed by a thump. Thinking it was another monster I opened the door, knocking it to the side in a rush, pipe in hand, but found nothing except a long black object on the ground. Upon further inspection, I saw it was my old katana! Apparently it was left here too when everyone moved. I picked it up, and after a quick inspection I tied it to my back with the green cloth tied to the sheath; feeling safer with a better weapon than the pipe, which I still kept just in case.
The hallway was long, the walls painted white had faded and chipped, some tears in the red carpet and some random items lying on the ground, such as strewn garbage from the overturned trash can and a framed picture thrown on the ground and shattered. The hallway ended, leading to the kitchen, which was built out to extend the size of the room. I turned and looked around. The refrigerator looked like it had seen better days as I walked over to it, finding nothing edible; something that happened whether or not the house was abandoned. I walked into the newly built dining room area, seeing a small black object on the table.
Small and black, rectangular shaped with a note attached – and again I was curious. Getting closer, the light from my flashlight revealed it was a small radio, a note written on torn notebook paper taped to it. The note read, in hurriedly written handwriting, the black ink running in places:
THIS TELLS YOU WHEN THEY ARE NEAR
I couldn’t figure this out at first. When I turned it on, though, I got absolutely nothing. No radio stations, just nothing at all, just silence. But after a few seconds it screamed white noise. It was then I figured it out.
I had a visitor.
The small radio I obtained from the kitchen table spit static and white noise. At that moment I sensed a malevolent presence enter the room. A sickening gurgling noise drifted across my ears. Before I knew it I was surprised by an unexpected tackle to the ground by a human-like creature. I felt hot blood and a burning sensation as something sharp dug into my forearm. I cried out in both fear and pain, rolled onto my side, and knocked it into the cabinet and caused the table to slam into the wall from the exerted force. I pulled myself to my feet; heart racing in my chest.
The monster in question was my size in term of height, but looked as if it weighed twice my weight with one bulging eye swiveling in its socket, arms protruding grotesquely from its back and a large mouth stretching diagonally from the left shoulder to its right hip, teeth bared in a grotesque grin. A mix of disgust, confusion and revulsion washed over me looking at this thing, the smell coming off of it reeking like old garbage and excrements, which made me feel bile backing up in my throat.
Getting a hold of myself and realizing it could die if I don't act now, I cleared my confusion as best as I could and realized that this was a good chance to test my skills with my katana after all this time of owning one. I owned a sword or two because of my admiration of different characters form anime who wielded them, as well as showing them off at conventions. That and they just look cool. Its mouth opened up, baring its deformed teeth as I grabbed the hilt of my blade; hearing the metallic clash as I drew it from the sheath, making a quick and decisive diagonal slash, opening a deep wound across its body. It doubled back and in that momentary lull of hesitation I took the chance to finish it off, making two clean slices; one taking its head clean off and the other reducing it to two separate pieces. Its blood pooled at my feet, and my radio stopped its eternal shrieking.
I realized then and there what the note meant; the radio emitted white noise and static when “they” appeared, and I decided this could be useful in the future. I clipped it onto the right strap of my bag with the flashlight on the left. Deciding there was nothing useful and no more information here, I walked carefully down the hall, but as I walked I kicked something small. Looking down I saw it was a small plush doll. I bent over, picking it up in my hand. It was a girl that had long, dark blue hair and a white hat on her head, and a black top and pink skirt. I recognized the doll, but I thought I brought it with me. I tucked it into my bag and kept walking, making it out the door, stepping outside my home.
As soon as I did, the radio came to life in a shrill cry of white noise as I was ambushed by the same type of monster from the warehouse. I barley dodged its attack from its sickle like claws protruding from its chest. Giving an annoyed growl I swung the blade in my hand with full force, cutting it down quickly before it could attack me again.
Silence again took hold as I looked out on my yard, the fog obscuring the trees in the distance. I needed answers as to what was going on. Walking at a slow but steady pace down the fogged up road, the whole time I kept my eye open for anything, waiting to hear the radio buzz to life with interference and sent me locked in combat with one of those hellish creatures. Even after the third or fourth attack I was still terrified, but survival instinct took hold each time.
For a few minutes everything seemed normal, the trip to the top of the hill and to the twin gas stations was uneventful; as soon as the monsters or whatever the hell they were appeared they were gone. Weird.
From what I remember, there were two ways to get downtown from my residence; going down the long, semi steep hill known as Olympic Highway north that connected my neighborhoods to the rest of the town, or going past Bordeaux Elementary school, where my friend and I sometimes hung out near the swings during the summertime. From there I would have to walk a narrow, winding path that went past some non existing persons house who never seemed to be home anyways. Logic said to take the main road. Since I don't think it was possible to maneuver on the narrow trail as easily as a three lane road.
I turned right; descending the winding hill that lead to the heart of Shelton. I decided to go straight down the middle of the street, looking off to the right at the trees that grew on the steep hill next to the sidewalk. The guardrail was broken in places; and the most noticeable was a hole where a compact car had crashed through it. Parts of the road itself were badly damaged. There were several holes in the pavement, a fallen tree laying across half of the roadway. I climbed over it, getting sap and rainwater on my jeans and the arm of my sweatshirt. On the other side, the sight confounded me; half of the road was gone, the pavement scorched around a jagged hole gouging into the hillside and roadway. What could have possibly done that?
The bay was a little farther ahead as well as the lumber mill that was the lifeblood of the town for over one hundred years, but something about it seemed amiss; it seemed scorched and in very bad shape from what I could make out from the shifting fog. From what I saw, the mill was half gone, looking as to have caught on fire and burned down. Trying not to get distracted, I scanned my surroundings. Behind me, beside me, to the left and up the brush covered embankment; but saw no apparent threats.
A small strip mall, consisting of two joined shops, a off roading vehicle outlet and a pet groomers sat to the right of me along with a house that gave off the same eerie feeling as the other houses on my side of town. I was now entering downtown; a large hardware store sat at the bottom of the hill, a Kentucky Fried Chicken was built to my left along with a Pizza Hut and a Mexican Grocery store that always seemed empty to me. If I thought the atmosphere around here was menacing and ghostly, then what I was feeling the moment I started downtown was something else entirely. It was like something, like some powerful force absolutely didn't want me here. Well, too damn bad for it.
The radio went off into static suddenly as I passed the charred remains of the burned
down Bowling Alley. It was like the first monster I encountered, whom I nicknamed “Scratch”. Scratch gurgled and groaned as it got closer, charging with full speed as it grew near; knocking the two of us to the ground with a strong force. With a disgusted grunt I pushed it off of me and slamming my foot onto its head and stepping back. Its still tried to get up, slashing at my legs as it did. I took a quick step back and slammed its head and body with the pipe, which was tied to my back along with my katana.
The sound of metal hitting concrete, metal and flesh resounded off of the buildings as I continued until it stopped moving. Again, all was silent as I stepped over the monsters carcass, passing the health club next to the park. As soon as I looked in the direction of Kneeland Park I was overcome with an urge to go there, like something wanted me to go there. I crossed the street, walking through the open, rusted gate onto the wood chips of the children's toys; a big wooden structure that looked like a castle with swings, a slide and a rope to climb on. A wood separator was built in between the swings and toys, the swings area covered in pea gravel.
Off in the distance, near the large gazebo used for large gatherings, I saw a figure that looked human, most likely another monster or maybe, just maybe an actual human being. As the realization hit me, I quickly walked across the tall, knee high grasses to the Gazebo, looking for who or what it was that was staring back at me.
“Hello?” I asked, hoping for a reply.
For a few minutes I heard nothing at all, but as I searched I could hear the faint sound of footsteps on pavement. That of human feet. I turned around and saw whomever it was. It was obviously a girl, who was about a foot shorter than me with long brown hair, some of it hanging over her shoulder and obscuring her gray hooded sweatshirt that hung a little bit low, covering the top of her faded blue jeans. We stared at each other for a minute, unsure of what to say.
“Shane...Is that you?” She asked finally, after a seemingly eternal silence.
:Last time I checked.” I replied as she ran over and embraced me tightly, obviously happy to see another human being.
“Sharon, what are you doing here?” I asked her, looking down at her as I hugged her back.
“I'm.....not sure myself.” she said with a look of confusion. Part of me thought she wasn't telling me something, “What about you?” She asked.
“I'm looking for Isaac,” I said I said matter of factly. Something wasn't sitting right; she wasn't acting like herself.. Usually if something is bothering her she tells me.
“You should leave,” I told her. She shook her head.
“I can't.” was her reply.
“Why not?” I retorted.
“I can't tell you.” Those words struck me like a car crash; she couldn't tell me?
“Why?” I asked.
“Because...just... I just can't, okay?! Leave it alone!” Sharon snapped, getting defensive. With a sigh I gave up.
“I'm sorry. Listen, be careful okay? I need to check something alone.” She sighed, giving me a loose but firm hug. I hugged her back, and looked at her.
“You be careful too. You have a radio, right?” I asked, “It detects those freaks somehow.” The girl reached into her pocket and harvested a small black radio similar to mine, “Okay. If you run into any problems call me on the radio, okay?”
She smiled and nodded, pulling my head down and kissing me on the cheek, ever so close to my lips for a second.
“You be careful too, alright? I'll be waiting for you after I'm done, okay honey?” She said in a sweet tone.
“Yeah.” I answered, “You too.”
Sharon was my second girlfriend, and even after breaking up after a year of dating we remained very close. We met at school when we ran into each other. I walked her to class to help her carry her stuff, and after that it became a habit. We became friends, and, after my first girlfriend dumped me she took me into her heart and brought me back from the edge.
We split up after hugging one last time. She headed to the apartments adjacent to the park, asking me not to follow. I, myself, headed towards the center of downtown to see if maybe it had anything to do with this at all. Hopefully I would see everyone else soon and make it out of here alive after finding Isaac alive and well.
((kudos who can figure out the doll i pick up. xD))
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