Table of Contents:
Chapter 1: Ash
Chapter 2: Fog
Chapter 3: Darkness
The Characters:
A mother who heads to Silent Hill to save her daughter, who is frequently tormented by nightmares.
Rose's nine-year-old daughter who repeatedly mentions Silent Hill in her nightmares.
Rose's husband who is searching for his missing family.
A police officer from Brahms who helps Rose.
A detective from Brahms and former resident of Silent Hill.
A resident of Silent Hill.
A woman banished from Silent Hill after losing her daughter.
The reigning leader of Silent Hill.
A girl who looks identical to Sharon.
It was midnight.
Rose Da Silva sat in the hallway, clutching a large radio as if it were a teddy bear, like a child frightened of the dark. Her fragile figure hardly seemed like that of a mother with a nine-year-old child. Yet, it was precisely because she was a mother that she sat there in the dead of night, right in front of her daughter's room. She brushed her lips with her index and middle fingers, craving a cigarette.
She had never smoked in front of her family, but now, she desperately wanted one. The radio emitted a faint noise, reminiscent of falling rain, as Rose listened intently.
"Is it here?" She murmured. She pressed her ear to the radio and nodded repeatedly. Then, looking up at the door, she spoke. "It's here alright."
Her expression tightened, her face set with determination. She stood up and opened the door.
The room beyond was what any nine-year-old girl would dream of, overflowing with cute decorations. Rose and her husband, Christopher, had given their daughter Sharon whatever she desired. Even if they thought they were spoiling her, they couldn't resist her smile.
Snow was falling in that room.
Snow?
No, it was something more foul and dirty.
Rose caught some of it in her palm and pinched it between her fingers and crushed it.
Ash.
It was ash falling inside the room. In the center of that falling ash stood Sharon. Rose's beloved daughter. No matter what, she had to protect her. Looking at her, Rose reaffirmed her resolve.
Sharon had her hands out in front of her, as if searching for something. Her glossy black hair was now dulled by the accumulating ash. Her wide-open eyes stared past Rose, beyond the door, through the walls at something that wasn't there.
"I want to go home." Sharon said. "I want to go home." She stepped toward Rose, intending to go outside as usual. Rose stood in her way and embraced her shoulders.
"This is home, Sharon. This is your home."
It was like talking to a statue—there was no response. Then, something moved in the corner of the room behind Sharon. It awkwardly swayed its misshapen body as it crossed the room. It happened in an instant. In the next moment, it disappeared beyond the falling ash.
Rose shuddered.
She intuitively knew it was as evil as a demon sent to tempt the Son of God in the wilderness, and she also knew that one day she would have to risk her life to protect her daughter from it.
"Sharon, please. Wake up!"
Sharon struggled to break free from Rose's grip. Despite her frail frame that seemed like it would break with just a hug, she thrashed like a wild animal. With surprising strength, she finally broke away from Rose, but Rose couldn't let her escape. This time, Rose did not hold back. She pinned Sharon to the floor, using her entire weight to hold her down. Sharon's body arched like a steel bridge, effortlessly lifting Rose's twice-as-heavy body.
"I want to go home! I want to go home!" Sharon screamed. Even then, she didn't meet Rose's eyes. She wasn't speaking to her.
"Stop it, Sharon. This is your home."
Sharon began to tremble violently, flailing her limbs wildly and screamed.
"No! Home! Home! Silent Hill! I want to go back to Silent Hill!"
"There’s a good hospital." Christopher said, holding Rose's hand.
Sharon was sound asleep in bed. After her frequent episodes, she always slept soundly until morning. During that time, Rose had a brief respite to forget everything and fall into a deep sleep. But as she was about to collapse into bed, Christopher sat down beside her.
"You don't have to do anything more." Christopher's voice was as gentle as it could be. "You've done enough. No one knows that better than me." He held her hand and sighed, looking down. "I should have helped more. I'm sorry, Rose."
"I'm her mother." Rose managed a faint smile. "It's my job to take care of her."
"Rose, you're an amazing mother. But if this continues, you’re going to break down. You need a break. That’s why the hospital in Canada..."
"Stop talking about that." Rose's voice grew harsh.
Christopher grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him.
"Listen, Rose. If things keep going on like this, all of us, you, me, and Sharon, will fall apart. We need to make the tough decision to admit her."
It all started with a nightmare.
It was shortly after her ninth birthday when Rose and Christopher were awakened by screams from Sharon's bedroom. Rushing in, they found her, just like today, with her body arched and screaming. Her wide-open eyes showed nothing but fear, and her flailing hands grasped at the air.
Rose held her, repeatedly whispering that everything was okay. Eventually, Sharon calmed down and fell back asleep. In the morning, Sharon remembered nothing of the incident. "It's quite common," Christopher had said. "It's called night terrors," he explained to Rose, using terms like REM sleep and non-REM sleep.
"She probably watched a scary movie at a friend's house or saw something on TV. She'll be fine soon."
But she wasn’t fine. The nightmares grew more frequent. Sharon couldn't remember the dreams when she woke up, only the memory of having a nightmare and the lingering fear. This, too, was characteristic of night terrors. So, Rose took Sharon to a specialist.
"It's caused by stress."
The doctor said with a smile that seemed as fixed as a mask.
"There’s a possibility of post-traumatic stress disorder. Has she experienced something like an assault or a severe accident?"
When Rose replied that there hadn't been any such incidents, the doctor asked as if inquiring about that morning’s breakfast.
"How is her relationship with her father? Is there any chance of abuse?"
Hugging Sharon tightly, Rose stormed out of the office. She told Christopher about the meeting, still fuming with anger. He tried to reason with her, saying that while the doctor’s questions were indeed rude, they were standard for a medical professional.
------The doctor is useless. And so is Chris.
That's what Rose thought at that moment.
They did see somewhat better doctors afterward, but nothing improved. The matter wasn't just left to the doctors. Rose tried to make Sharon's days as calm as possible. No news. No movies. No excitement whatsoever. Their daily life was less stimulating than that of an old woman napping in the garden. Yet still, Sharon would be tormented by nightmares and scream in the night.
And it didn't end there as things only got worse.
One night, Rose found Sharon wandering throughout the house. Her eyes were vacant, and she staggered like a living dead, trying to leave her home.
Somnambulism, or in other words sleepwalking, had begun.
Christopher reached out to various sources, gathered information, and found a specialist in sleep disorders. They changed doctors multiple times, visiting specialist clinics like pilgrims. Diazepam, etizolam, hydroxyzine pamoate, bromisoval—Rose learned the names of these tongue-twisting medications by heart. But Sharon's condition only worsened.
The doctors were of no help and Rose became increasingly convinced of this.
Eventually, Sharon began to leave the house while sleepwalking. They caught her just in time, wandering dangerously close to a busy highway and standing on the edge of a deep ravine. They almost lost their only daughter. Christopher installed multiple locks on the front door and even fitted one on Sharon’s room to prevent her from opening it from the inside. Yet, they still found her trying to sneak out at night. Driven by her nightmares, Sharon seemed to become a master locksmith, like Houdini. Rose slept during the day when Sharon was at school and caught a few hours of sleep at night while Christopher worked from home. When he came to bed, Rose would get up and take his place, keeping vigil by Sharon’s door.
Rose was exhausted.
Her sleep was fragmented, and her anxiety never ceased. Since bringing baby Sharon home from the adoption agency, Rose had never been so worn out. Sharon had been an easy child to raise.
Until the nightmares began.
Christopher had found a psychiatric hospital that offered long-term inpatient treatment. When Rose heard about it, she was vehemently opposed. It felt like abandoning their child, giving up on her. He didn’t force the issue but he never let go of the idea. Rose researched the hospital online. It was a specialized facility for children with behavioral problems, boasting strict management and a packed schedule of "fun" activities. But to Rose, it seemed more like a well-disguised prison.
She was determined not to send Sharon there. Yet Christopher never gave up and continued to advocate for the plan. Showing her a glossy brochure, he said
"Rose, you’ve got it wrong. This place is a resort for kids, complete with specialists to help."
"Is Sharon really a sleepwalker?"
Rose changed the subject.
"What do you mean?" Christopher replied, his face showing confusion.
"Sleepwalking episodes usually only last a few minutes. Sharon wanders outside for nearly half an hour. Plus, sleepwalking is more common in boys."
"There are always exceptions, Rose. Sharon could be one of them."
"The cause is usually severe stress, like PTSD. Sharon has nothing like that, and I always make sure her days are as peaceful as possible. There’s no trigger for sleepwalking. Unless..." Rose’s voice trailed off as she glared at Christopher.
"Are you saying I'm abusing her behind your back?" Christopher clenched his fists, resisting the urge to lash out. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his anger. "That’s a terrible thing to suggest, even as a joke."
"I’m sorry," Rose apologized, then hesitated before continuing. "You know Sharon always says she wants to go home when she’s sleepwalking."
"Yeah, I’ve heard her say it many times."
"She’s not talking about our home. She means somewhere else, a place that’s not here. She’s trying to return to that place in her sleep, through her nightmares."
"So where is this place?" Christopher asked.
"Silent Hill."
"Yeah, Sharon often mentions it... but normally, parents don’t take a child's sleep-talking seriously. If a child talks about a boogeyman in the closet, you explain that there’s no such thing."
Christopher stopped Rose as she tried to respond, continuing his point.
"Rose, you’re exhausted. You’re always keeping watch in front of Sharon’s room with that radio."
"Yes, because that radio—"
"Warns you. You told me, like it was a great discovery, that the radio warns us. Rose, imagining things that aren’t real isn’t healthy. We need to face reality."
"Something weird is happening, something that is beyond our normal understanding. Tonight, there was ash falling in the room."
"There was no ash in the room. Both you and Sharon are neat freaks; the room was spotless. And you also mentioned seeing a monster in the room."
"I didn’t say monster. It was more like... something very unpleasant," Rose’s voice softened.
"Listen," Christopher said with the gentle tone one uses with a small child, "there was no ash, no strange creature. The radio is just producing static. Rose, you’re tired, and it’s affecting you."
Rose felt the pity in his eyes, which made her feel utterly miserable. Fighting back the feeling, she spoke again.
"I can try harder. Please, just let me handle this a little longer."
"You keep watch every night, but it doesn’t always work. Sharon still manages to slip out and, like the other night, wander to the ravine. We can’t just rely on luck. I believe we need to take the necessary measures we can before it’s too late."
He looked steadily into Rose's eyes.
"After two weeks of inpatient treatment, parents are allowed to visit. It’s not like we’ll never see her again. Just until she gets better."
"No, Chris, please. That hospital is not an option. It really isn’t."
"Let me at least make the call. Trust me on this, Rose."
Christopher was a kind man and not one to avoid discussions. However, once he made up his mind, it was futile to argue without a solid reason. Rose knew this all too well from their long relationship.
She nodded slowly.
"Thank you. I knew you’d understand."
Christopher hugged her tightly. By that time, Rose had already made up her mind. She would handle everything on her own.
From a small hill, Rose looked down at the road below. She could see her Jeep parked on the shoulder. It had been a long journey, and their destination was close. Sitting next to Sharon, who was drawing under a large tree, Rose took a deep breath.
The sky was clear. The midday sun was warm. It was a peaceful scene.
Sharon was happily drawing, a smile on her face. It seemed like there was nothing to worry about. Rose almost believed that if they just went back and dropped Sharon off at school, everything would be fine but she knew better. Unless the root of the problem was addressed, she couldn’t save her daughter.
She thought it was about time to explain to Sharon why they were doing this. That was why they had stopped here to rest. Sharon probably sensed something. She hadn't said anything when they passed the turn-off to school. She had quietly followed Rose the entire long drive. Sharon was a smart girl. She had to be feeling some sort of doubts. Normally, she would have bombarded Rose with questions. Yet she had remained silent, following her mother. Rose believed this was because Sharon had sensed something was wrong.
Now it was time to explain the reason for their journey but Rose still didn’t know how to explain it. She wasn’t even sure if what she was doing was right. However, she did know one thing: Christopher’s solution was wrong. She also knew he would never understand what she was doing now.
So, how was she going to explain it to Sharon? As Rose watched Sharon draw, she struggled with this question.
The sketchbook depicted a serene scene, far from Rose’s turmoil. In the center of the drawing was a female figure, age indeterminate. She was surrounded by animals, content and at peace. There was a giraffe, a bear, a lion, and a sloth hanging from a branch. Noticing Rose watching, Sharon instinctively covered the sketchbook with her body. Then she looked up and smiled.
“Do you want to see?”
“Yes honey, of course.”
Rose sat beside her daughter, lifting Sharon onto her lap. She took the sketchbook in her hands.
“Did you really draw all of this by yourself?”
The young girl nodded.
"I'm surprised. It's very good."
"Isn't it?" Sharon boasted, a proud glint in her eye. Rose looked into her eyes and said,
"We're about to go on a special journey together."
"Are we going to throw a ring into a volcano?" Sharon asked, her reference to a favorite story making Rose smile.
"Something like that. It's a very important and special journey, you understand that, right?"
"Yes," Sharon nodded seriously, her earnest expression both adorable and heartbreaking.
"Do you know where we're going?"
Sharon shook her head.
"You see, sometimes you go for walks while you're asleep," Rose explained gently.
"I know. I heard you talked about it."
"Yes... and during those times, you mention Silent Hill."
"I don't remember that."
"That's because you're dreaming when you say it."
"So, it's a place in my dreams?"
"No. It's a real place. Mommy found it. And that's why we're going there, so you can remember and stop having those bad dreams."
Suddenly, Rose's cell phone rang. Seeing Christopher's name on the display, she quickly turned it off.
"Daddy's not coming, is he?" Sharon said, more as a statement than a question.
"No, it's just you and me."
Rose kissed Sharon and waited for more questions. But Sharon seemed content with just being held. After a while, Sharon's body grew heavier. She had fallen asleep. Gently, Rose laid her daughter on the grass and covered her with a jacket. Sharon's face was peaceful, exuding a serene joy that filled Rose with happiness.
I will protect this peace, Rose thought.
What she was doing was right. They would go to Silent Hill and confront the source of Sharon's recurring nightmares. Facing and battling fear was the only way to overcome it. This was true for her as well.
They had to fight the fear. That was why they were heading to Silent Hill.
Despite her resolve, the midday sun was perfect for a lazy nap. Just for a bit, just a little bit more, Rose thought. She lay down next to Sharon, inhaling the scent of the warm earth and her clean hair. It soothed her, drawing her into a gentle sleep... until the sound of a passing truck on the highway woke her up. She sat up and looked around. The sun hadn't moved much. She couldn't have slept for long. Perhaps just a few seconds. But miraculously, her fatigue had lifted.
"Let's get up now," Rose gently shook Sharon's shoulder. "Break is over, sweetie. Are you awake?"
Sharon stretched in Rose's arms and looked at her inquisitively.
"Are we leaving now?" Sharon asked.
Rose nodded.
They held hands and began descending the hillside. A sign shaped like an open Bible stood nearby, with the words:
Do you not know that the saints shall judge the world? Do you not know that we will judge angels?
Christopher wandered around the living room, cursing under his breath.
“Damn it!”
He punched the wall with a force that was enough to almost break through. He knew the house was empty the moment he stepped inside. No, he had known even before entering. He had been calling Rose all day and she never answered. He picked up the receiver and dialed the number he had called countless times before.
The ringing began.
Once... twice... three times, and then the recorded voice said:
“Hi, this is Rose. Please leave a message.”
He slammed the receiver down. Calm down, calm down, he told himself. It might be an accident. Just thinking that made his heart race. Every terrifying possibility in the world flashed through his mind. No. That’s not it. They are both safe. They just can’t be reached right now. It happens sometimes.
Christopher looked around the room, trying to find a clue. The laptop was still on. A photo of him, Rose, and Sharon was displayed. Sharon was in the middle, with Christopher and Rose on either side, all three smiling as happily as possible.
Christopher bent down and clicked the mouse. The browser appeared. It seemed Rose had been searching for something online. He clicked a few times to bring up the search history. The search terms appeared quickly.
Silent Hill
It seemed Rose had been researching the place. The last visited site was easy to find. He clicked to bring it up on the monitor. It was a news site that allowed keyword searches through decades of newspaper articles.
Christopher tried the same search.
Numerous articles came up. According to them, the town experienced a massive coal mine fire in 1974. The fire was so severe that all residents had to evacuate. The evacuees settled in a town called Brahms and never returned to Silent Hill. They couldn’t. The underground coal and natural gas fires continued to burn, making the town uninhabitable. It was buried under layers of ash.
Silent Hill had become a ghost town. The article headlines were terrifying.
Living Hell
Abandoned Dead
Toxic Gas Leak
The Greatest Disaster of This Century...
The latest article stated:
Contaminated Town, Silent Hill Brings Death to Visitors.
Christopher bit his finger and continued reading.
“They went here.” He finally muttered, exhaling a sigh that felt like his soul was escaping.
Rose's Jeep sped towards Brahms. Sunset was near. Darkness accumulated like sediment. The trees lining both sides of the road leaned over, their branches pressing down, creating a suffocating atmosphere. It felt as though if she was driving through a long tunnel.
Rose took several deep breaths. She checked the rearview mirror to see Sharon who was quietly drawing. The fuel gauge caught her eye and the tank was nearly empty. It didn’t look like they would make it to Brahms. They needed gas and directions.
Despite approaching Silent Hill, there hadn’t been a single signpost. Was she on the right path? The further she drove, the more her anxiety grew. The cellphone on the dashboard rang again. It was Christopher. She picked it up, ready to hang up, but changed her mind.
He had left a message.
"Rose, please answer the phone. I know where you're heading. I'm worried. Please, just let me hear your voice."
Rose stared straight ahead.
"Sharon's condition is beyond what we can handle. We need help."
A beep sounded, cutting off his voice. Rose discreetly glanced at Sharon in the rearview mirror. She must have heard her father's message. Yet, she showed no sign of concern. The darkness deepened further. By the time Rose arrived at the gas station on the outskirts of Brahms, the night sky was already painted with stars.
Brahms was a small, impoverished rural town. The gas station, typical of the countryside, was a combination of a general store and a tattoo and body piercing parlor, as indicated by the neon sign. It also seemed to double as a café where the locals gathered, as it was still bustling even at this hour.
Rose looked behind her and saw Sharon fast asleep. They had been driving all day. Sharon must have been exhausted. So, Rose left her daughter in the car and started pumping gas at the self-service station. A motorcycle pulled in, its engine rumbling.
A police officer.
She was wearing a tight leather suit. When she took off her helmet, blonde hair spilled out. The officer headed towards the restroom. Rose didn't want to be approached by her. Not that she was doing anything illegal, but being questioned could still be troublesome. However, her showing nervousness might arouse even more suspicion. She had to act as naturally and inconspicuously as possible. The handle of the gas pump clicked, indicating the tank was full. Rose replaced the nozzle and opened the back door. She grabbed her purse to go pay. Sharon's sketchbook had fallen nearby. Rose picked it up and gasped.
It was the drawing Sharon had been working on during the day but it was now marred with ugly crosshatched lines. Over those lines, vivid blue-eyed figures holding hands were drawn.
Something was wrong.
The animals were slashed and scribbled over. The joyful strokes had vanished, replaced by something menacing and disturbing.
She turned the page. There were two figures, spewing fire or blood towards a small silhouette.
On the next page, there was a drawing that resembled a church. A cross stood atop the steeple. Crosses that were arranged at the four points of a circle, the whole forming a larger cross. Crows, perhaps? There were black birds circled above the church. They were crudely drawn as their figures were grotesquely misshapen.
Rose felt a chill run down her spine. She dropped the sketchbook, feeling as if her fingers were contaminated. It was a horrifying drawing. It seemed to reflect a warped state of mind, and Rose couldn't believe Sharon herself had drawn it.
"Are we there yet?"
Sharon looked at Rose with sleepy eyes.
"Not yet, honey. You awake?"
Sharon got out of the car and stretched. Should she ask about the drawing now or wait a bit longer? Rose hesitated for a moment, then decided. She crouched down beside Sharon.
"Can I ask you something?"
Sharon shrugged. Rose gingerly showed her the sketchbook.
"Why did you change the drawings?"
Sharon's eyes widened in surprise.
"Who did this?!"
"You don't remember?"
"I didn't draw this."
"Maybe you just forgot, honey."
Sharon shook her head vigorously.
"I didn't draw it. I don't like it. It's creepy. Mommy, who did this?"
Tears welled up in Sharon's eyes, and Rose pulled her daughter close.
"It's okay now."
"Who did it?" Sharon sobbed.
"Someone must have played a trick while I was away for a bit. Don't worry, I'll find out who," Rose reassured her.
Sharon kept repeating through her tears, "Who did it? Who did it?" Rose noticed the motorcycle officer emerging from the restroom, pausing to watch them. There's nothing to be ashamed of, Rose told herself. It's just a mother calming her tired child.
"Shh, don't cry. Mommy's here," she whispered, hugging Sharon tightly.
She felt the officer's gaze intensely.
"Can you wait in the car?" Rose asked. She wanted to pay and leave quickly.
"Can I sit in the front?"
Rose smiled and kissed her daughter. "Of course, you can sit in the front." She walked past the officer towards the store. She glanced at the officer's face—strong-willed, determined, the type who always gets the job done. Being suspected by her would be troublesome.
Entering the brightly lit convenience store from the darkness outside, the fluorescent lights were blinding. She headed straight for the register at the back, where a young woman was chewing gum and reading a hunting and fishing guide. For some reason, a sense of uneasiness grew within Rose. She should have brought Sharon inside with her.
Hurriedly, she said, "I'd like to pay for the gas." Speaking even faster, she added, "Can you tell me how to get to Silent Hill?" The clerk, swiping Rose's credit card through the register, eyed her suspiciously. Rose added, "It doesn't seem to be anywhere on the map."
“Why do you want to go there?”
“I read about the town. I got curious.”
Even to herself, Rose’s explanation sounded unconvincing.
“There’s no road leading to that place anymore.”
The register beeped, indicating an error with Rose’s credit card.
“Oh, it looks like your card is declined.”
The clerk eyed her with increasing suspicion. Rose lowered her eyes, flustered. This must be Christopher’s doing.
“That’s strange. Never mind, I’ll pay in cash.”
Thanking the clerk, Rose headed towards the exit. Just then, her cell phone rang. It was Christopher again. Rose answered as she pushed the door open.
“Why did you cancel the credit cards!” she yelled. “You know it’s not going to stop me.”
“Listen, honey. Putting Sharon in that hospital is the best thing for her. We couldn’t help her. We have to accept that. She needs the right medication…”
“The medication didn’t work. They just made Sharon suffer even more.” Rose’s voice was intense. “Her condition had only worsened. The doctors were helpless. You need to accept that.”
She realized her voice had risen and took a deep breath to calm herself.
“The adoption agency said Sharon came from West Virginia. Silent Hill is in West Virginia. This can’t be a coincidence. I won’t give up, Chris. I’ll find the answers.”
“Why'd you take Sharon with you?” Christopher asked, struggling to keep his anger in check. “We could have investigated without putting her in danger.”
“She needs to experience this herself. That’s the only way she can conquer her fear.”
“You’re... tired. Your mind isn’t thinking straight.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Chris, but trust my judgment on this. Please, just trust me.”
Rose glanced up and saw the officer standing by the Jeep, watching them suspiciously. Did she hear the argument? Does she think this is a custody dispute? That she herself abducted her own daughter?
“Listen, honey, I love you and Sharon just as much…”
“Chris, I’m hanging up now.”
Rose ended the call abruptly. Ignoring the officer, she quickly walked to the Jeep’s driver seat, hoping the officer wouldn’t speak to her. But the officer was more nosy than she anticipated.
“Is there a problem, ma’am?”
“No, not at all. Thank you,” Rose replied curtly. But the officer didn’t move. “I’m not having any problems,” she repeated, brushing past to get into the car.
She started the engine immediately. In the rearview mirror, she saw the officer pulling out a notepad and writing something down. Probably noting the license plate. She prayed Christopher wouldn’t file a missing person's report.
“What were you talking to that person about?” Rose asked.
"Her name is Cybil."
"What?"
"That officer, her name is Cybil."
"Oh, really. So, what did you talk about with Cybil?"
"I didn't talk to her," Sharon said proudly. "We're not supposed to talk to strangers, right?"
"That's right. You’re such a smart girl."
Sharon leaned back in the passenger seat, smiling contentedly.
Rose drove along the road through the dense green forest. The two-lane road curved gently, and there wasn't another car in sight.
Sharon had fallen asleep again next to her. Rose wanted to move her to the back seat and fasten her seatbelt, but there was nowhere to pull over. The road was empty, so she could stop anywhere, but there was always a risk. In the dark, it would be hard to see, and at this hour, there could be drowsy drivers. She couldn't afford to stop and risk a collision.
So, Rose kept driving.
She turned down the volume on the radio and focused on driving safely. The girl at the gas station had drawn her a map at Rose's request. It was a rough map, but it was better than nothing. It shouldn't be far from here. They would arrive soon. But what would happen once they found the town, Rose had no idea. It might depend on Sharon. Sharon was heading for Silent Hill in her sleep. Once they got there, what would she do? What did she want? Even if she wasn't aware of it, this was what Sharon wanted.
Before becoming Rose and Christopher's adopted daughter, Sharon had been in West Virginia. Whether that place was Silent Hill, Rose didn't know. But there might be a connection between Sharon's subconscious mind from before she was born and the town itself. Sharon needed to face it and overcome it, or her suffering would never end.
Chris doesn't understand that. That's why I should tell him everything after it's all over. Just tell him about the happy ending. But a happy ending didn't seem easy to reach.
Suddenly, she heard a siren from behind. In the side mirror, she saw the motorcycle cop from the gas station. With a sigh, she realized the officer was catching up fast. She signaled her to pull over to the side of the road. Rose sighed deeply and slowed down. Conveniently, a dirt shoulder appeared ahead. She pulled over and stopped the car there.
Sharon woke up in the passenger seat.
"Are we there yet?"
"Not yet, honey."
Rose replied with a smile. A flashlight beam was approaching. What could this be about? She had been driving safely. She hadn't broken any traffic laws. So why had she stopped her? Was she just being nosy, checking if they were okay? She had followed them all the way out here. How did she know where they were going?
Rose quickly realized. The woman must have asked the girl at the register. Why did she go to such lengths to follow them? Did Chris report them as missing? If so, she might be detained here until Chris came to get them. If they had to turn back now, Chris would never let her do something like this again. And Sharon would be sent to that hospital.
The bright light was getting closer and closer. Thinking desperately, Rose looked ahead. An old sign stood by the roadside. An arrow pointing straight ahead read "Brahms," while another arrow pointing to the left read "Silent Hill."
Finally, she found it.
"Sharon, buckle your seatbelt." Rose said seriously to Sharon and shifted gears. After confirming Sharon had buckled up, she said, "Here we go, honey."
She stepped on the accelerator. The tires screeched as the car leaped onto the road. The steep incline didn't slow the Jeep down at all. It sped up the hill but the cop was still right behind them. Soon, a curve loomed ahead. The tires squealed as the car turned left, toward Silent Hill. Just around the bend, the road was blocked by a chain-link fence.
"Mommy!!"
"It's okay, honey"
She spoke to Sharon, gripping the steering wheel tightly with one hand and holding her body steady with the other. The "No Entry" sign rapidly approached. There was a loud crash, but almost no impact. The chain-link fence was knocked down instantly. Beyond it, a narrow one-lane bridge appeared and the road continued uphill after the bridge.
Suddenly, the car radio started making a crackling noise. Sharon, startled by the jarring sound, covered her ears and began to cry as if the noise was piercing her ears. Rose glanced at the digital clock displaying 9:29 and tried to turn off the radio. Despite pressing the button repeatedly, the noise wouldn't stop. Sharon screamed from the passenger seat, pressing her hands against her ears and continuing to shriek in a high-pitched voice.
"Don't worry, it's just the radio!" Rose shouted loudly, as if to reassure herself. She kept pressing the button over and over. But the noise didn't stop. As always, the voices began to emerge from the static.
"They're coming. They're coming."
It was a warning voice. She glanced at the clock again without really looking.
9:24.
Sharon continued to scream as Rose drove on desperately. Suddenly, a small figure appeared in the light of the headlights. A child? A girl? It was too close to stop in time.
"Nooo!"
Rose screamed and turned the wheel. The tires screeched, sending up smoke. The car lost control as it skidded sideways, heading straight for the childlike figure. Rose lets out a blood-curdling scream.
In the next moment, the darkness swallowed everything. Rose winced as she lifted her head from the steering wheel. Her vision was blurry with white. At first, she thought something was wrong with her eyes, but she quickly realized it was fog. Light diffused into the fog, casting a hazy glow surrounding her. Suddenly, her forehead throbbed with pain. She touched it, feeling something slippery on her fingers.
Blood.
Startled, she looked at the passenger seat. It was empty.
"Sharon?"
She called out as she checked the back seat. There was no one.
"Sharon!"
She yelled, getting out of the car. Her head swam, and she felt dizzy. She looked at the front of the car. There was no sign of the car having hit anyone. No small girl, neither in front nor behind the vehicle. It seemed the child was unharmed. Could Sharon have gone somewhere with that child?
"Sharon!"
Rose shouted. Sharon was nowhere to be seen. The milky fog blocked her view in every direction. Suddenly feeling short of breath, she took several shallow breaths. The headache continued to worsened.
"Sharon! Where are you?"
Something white fluttered down. It looked like snow, but it wasn't. Rose caught it with her fingers. Rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger, she saw it stained her fingers with ash. The same ash that had fallen in the room. Rose immidiately remembered of the coal mine fire in Silent Hill. Coal and natural gas still burned beneath the town, spewing toxic gas and ash.
So this was Silent Hill and Sharon was somewhere here. The thought quickened her pace. She saw an old sign, covered in ash.
"Welcome to Silent Hill," read in ornate letters. There was nothing moving on the road. No people, no cars, nothing at all. Not a trace of anything alive.
Eventually, she reached Main Street. Three dead traffic lights hung from wires overhead. On both sides of the wide street, low brick buildings lined up. Each of them stood in the thick fog, covered in ash. The scene was gloomy, like a row of crouching giants. Her throat began to hurt, so Rose covered her nose and mouth with a handkerchief. There was a foul smell, burnt and sour, simply unpleasant.
The old town, abandoned since the 1970s, looked like tombstones for the dead.
"Sharon!" Rose called out.
The thick fog swallowed her voice. Could Sharon be in one of the buildings? Lost, seeking help, still wandering? Maybe injured. Badly injured. She shook her head to dispel the bad thoughts.
She’ll be okay. Sharon is a smart girl. She wouldn't do anything foolish. She wouldn’t go with a stranger. The most likely explanation is she sleepwalked again. If so, she would wait for Rose when she woke up.
That's right. Sharon must be waiting for me, trusting that I'll come for her. I have to find her. Just calm down, think clearly, and find Sharon.
Rose called out Sharon's name as she walked along the road.
An old green pickup truck was abandoned by the sidewalk. In this town, time had stopped ever since that great fire. The unending fog and the rain of ash. Nothing could be more depressing. The fog and ash made everything look vague. The outlines disappeared, and if you stayed still, you might even feel like you were melting into the thick fog.
Rose pressed her temples, enduring the headache. There was no sign of Sharon. Still, she kept moving forward as only the filthy ash continued to pile up on her hair and shoulders.
There was no one there. Nothing could be heard. Rose stopped and slowly looked around. As her body turned in a circle, the fog swirled with her. Occasionally, there was a chemical stench. Rose suddenly thought that hell might smell just like this.
"Sharon!" She called out but there was no answer.
Wait, didn’t a shadow just pass in front of her? A small shadow. A child, surely a girl.
"Sharon!" she shouted. "Sharon! Hey! Wait!"
The shadow ran past a red Volkswagen and into an alley. Wait for me. Mommy is coming to help you. Rose ran after it and arrived at a narrow alley between brick buildings. Entering it, she saw the figure running away. She chased desperately. The alley opened onto a small path in a residential area. Shuttered garages lined the path. The pavement was cracked, like an old dog with a bad skin disease. An old car was abandoned at the curb. The running figure disappeared into another alley. It was a narrow one between garages.
"Sharon!" Rose shouted as she pursued.
The space between the garages was more of a gap than an alley. And there was a long staircase there. Rose descended the stairs at an odd angle. She had a bad feeling. It felt like putting her arm into a snake's den. She had to get her daughter back quickly.
"Sharon!" She called her beloved daughter's name.
"Honey? Where did you go?"
At that moment, a piercing sound hit her head.
A siren.
It didn’t diffuse into the fog but reverberated through the air at a deafening volume. It was a terribly nerve-racking sound.
A siren? But why would there be one here? Wasn’t this supposed to be an abandoned town?
Thinking about it wouldn't lead to any answers. She had to keep moving forward. Grabbing the wooden handrail with one hand, she descended the dark, long staircase. The stairs were narrow and long, seemingly endless. And the siren wailed on, rising and falling.
Gradually, her surroundings sank into deep darkness.
The darkness was deep. She could see nothing. She longed for a source of light.
Rose searched her pockets. She was sure she had a lighter. Though she knew it was a bad habit, she couldn't give up smoking. She had never smoked in front of her child, but she couldn't be parted without her cigarettes and lighter. She took the lighter out of her coat pocket and lit its flame to life. The warm glow offered some small comfort. The flame flickered, casting shadows on the crumbling walls.
What’s happening?
Rose asked herself with this question in her mind. Why had it suddenly become so dark? A sudden storm? No, a storm wouldn’t make it this dark. This was the darkness of night.
Could it be an eclipse? Perhaps the fire that had burned underground for thirty years had reignited the houses somewhere. Maybe the black clouds covered the sky and triggered the town’s old alarm system.
In any case, she couldn’t figure out the reason. The surroundings were shrouded in darkness. She had to accept that fact. This was the worst place for anyone to be. This was no place for people to live. Understanding that much enough, She had to get Sharon out of here quickly. That was Rose’s only wish now.
"Mommy?"
She heard a whispering voice from below.
"Sharon?"
Rose hurried down the stairs.
"Are you there? Sharon!"
She almost tumbled down the stairs as she rushed down. Sharon was right there. Soon, she would take her out of this town. Rose told herself of this.
Rain began to fall. The dry ash absorbed the rain and sizzled. The rain was strangely warm. It felt like someone’s bodily fluid. Her feet slipped on the slimy ground. Covering the lighter’s flame with one hand to check her footing, she hurried down the stairs.
Finally, she reached the ground.
It was an alleyway between large buildings. The warm rain dissolved the ash, carving and eroding, flowing like a river through the alley. Various metal barrels, big and small, were scattered around. They were all terrifyingly corroded and covered in red rust. The smell of ash dissolved by the rain mixed with rust, creating a stinging odor that made her eyes water. Her mouth and nose felt as if they were being scraped raw.
"Sharon? honey, where are you?" She called out, walking slowly to make sure she missed nothing.
The windows in the brick walls were all dark and closed, their glass too dirty with ash to reflect anything. There was a mechanical sound coming from somewhere. It sounded like machinery working. She felt as if she were trapped inside a giant clock tower. The foaming water flowing at her feet seemed almost like a strong acidic substance. The black water appeared to be dissolving the soles of her shoes, and the rainwater that seeped in burned her feet.
It stung painfully. Was this even Earth? She doubted that.
She had to find Sharon quickly. She didn’t want to leave her daughter in this place for even a second. She must be nearby and was waiting somewhere for Rose to find her. She would find her and take her home.
Before she knew it, Rose had entered a courtyard surrounded by tall buildings. There are plastic sheets draped over wire mesh formed fences here and there, transforming the place into a bizarre maze. Rose spotted the figure of a girl beyond the fence.
"Sharon! Hey, Sharon! Wait!"
Whether the girl heard her or not, she kept running. Rose tried to navigate the maze-like fences to catch up, but it was impossible to get closer to the fleeing girl.
"Sharon, wait!" She shouted desperately.
Soon, Sharon's figure disappeared completely.
Would she really be able to bring her back? Rose thought, her shoulders slumped, her body scorched by the acidic rain. She tried to stay strong, but in such a situation, few could. For the first time, Rose regretted bringing Sharon here.
As she walked, her eyes cast down, she noticed something mixed in the flowing water. She had smelled it even before seeing the smell's origins. A sickly sweet, pungent stench. That’s why she noticed the even darker streak flowing in the dark water.
Blood. A massive amount of blood was flowing. And then she saw it.
A man, dressed in a miner's outfit, was tied to the wire fence with barbed wire. The man was covered in blood. His skin had been flayed in several places. He looked as if he had been subjected to gruesome torture. His abdomen was split wide open on both sides. Most of his internal organs had been removed, and his intestines lay coiled on the ground. The man wore a hood and goggles. Rose cautiously brought the lighter closer. The man looked back at her with eyes full of agony. He was still alive. Alive, despite everything. The amount of pain he must be enduring was unimaginable.
Dragging her stiffened legs, Rose backed away. She was terrified. She wanted to drop everything and run. The only thing keeping her going was the thought of rescuing her daughter.
She sensed something behind her.
What? Rose turned around. There stood a small, gray, childlike creature. Only that it wasn’t a child. It wasn’t even human. Humans don't have knife-like claws. It swung its sharp claws, approaching with distorted, short legs. Its grotesquely large head swayed like seaweed. Red veins ran across its face but as it got closer, Rose realized the red network was cracks in its skin. Burnt skin split open, revealing raw flesh underneath. No, the red wasn't flesh. It was the same glowing red as the burning coal beneath the town. This creature was burning from the inside.
As it got closer, the stench of burnt hair grew stronger. Rose kept her eyes on it, slowly backing away. It shook its head and screamed. It was a scream of agony. Its mouth opened wider and wider until it was nothing but just a mouth. With the scream, a sorrowful wail filled the air. It cried and screamed, inching closer to Rose. As it approached, Rose kept backing away, shouting.
"No! Stop! Go away!"
Her voice eventually failed her. Her throat gasped for air. And then she saw it.
More of them emerged from the fog. The untold amount of fear threatened to drain all strength from her. They were like decaying children, their limbs trembling as they slowly advanced. Their large heads swayed. Their long claws scraped the floor. Screeches and more screeches. Rust and ash were scraped away. Rose turned her back on them but not seeing them only heightened her fear.
She screamed. She screamed and ran and collided with the fence, shaking it.
"Help!"
She screamed, knowing it was futile. If they caught her, would she end up like that crucified man? Her insides ripped out by those sharp claws? The thought drove her imagination to darker places. What if Sharon...? That horrifying thought turned into anger. She refused to be killed by these damn things without saving Sharon first. Rose left the fence and ran at full speed.
She saw a corridor and dashed into it. She didn't dare look back. But the sound of claws scraping the walls and floor never stopped. She ran and ran until she hit a dead end. There was a door. She tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. The knob turned, and the door opened a crack, but something on the other side was holding it back. She judged this in an instant and threw her shoulder against the door.
It burst open, and Rose tumbled through. There was a sulfuric smell. As she got up, she saw them. Not one or two but a cluster of monsters filled the room like a bunch of grapes.
She couldn’t even scream. Her body froze in place, as if paralyzed. The countless large heads pressed forward, pushing toward Rose. Sharp claws extended toward her all at once. The smell was overpowering. She looked into one of their eyes right in front of her. Its eyes were red and raw, staring at her intently. There was nothing but malice in those eyes.
She felt a deep sense of frustration. The thought of perishing here, leaving Sharon behind, was unbearable. She grabbed a steel pipe that had fallen to the ground. She was determined to take at least one of them down with her. With a scream, Rose swung the pipe wildly. There was resistance. She heard their screams. She heard their groans. Their hot bodily fluids splattered onto her. The stench grew even stronger.
Something grabbed her ankle. She was thrown to the ground and pain shot through her back. They piled onto her all at once. It was like an avalanche. She had reached her limit. Both her body and mind were at their limits. Her vision started to narrow rapidly. As her world faded, she saw the monsters retreating as if a wave was receding.
And then, Rose lost consciousness.
A trumpet fanfare echoed.
"Get away!" She shouted and opened her eyes.
The small monsters were gone. The music played, and a faint light illuminated the room. Am I dead? But if this was heaven, it was too dark. Rose propped herself up on her elbows. The trumpet notes marked the beginning of a song, and Johnny Cash's deep voice flowed from a jukebox.
Slowly, Rose stood up.
She was alive. Her body creaked with movement, the pain a testament to her survival.
Saved.
Rose felt a renewed sense of gratitude for her survival. She had no idea what had just happened, but she was alive.
It looked like an old bowling alley. There were broken furniture scattered everywhere. The jukebox continued to play music.
I fell into a burning ring of fire I went down, down, down And the flames went higher And it burns, burns, burns The ring of fire The ring of fire
Rose quickly left the abandoned building. The clammy mist clung to her instantly. She found herself back at the place she had descended into from the stairs. However, there was no chain-link fence, no crucified man, and no small monsters.
The impression was entirely different. Though it was still far from a pleasant place, the feeling of being in some otherworldly realm enveloped in darkness had vanished. Ash was falling, blanketing everything in a grimy gray layer.
The music gradually faded away.
What was that world of darkness? Was I dreaming? Rose pondered, but intuition told her that it wasn't a dream—at least, not that of her own. However, it certainly had the hallmarks of a nightmare: running around in a frantic state, chasing something important yet unreachable, being pursued by terrifying creatures, trapped in rooms and alleys with no escape. And then, the monsters—their forms condensed all that is unsettling, eerie, and horrifying, yet somehow vague.
Yes, she understood now. This was Sharon's nightmare. The horrific visions that had caused her to wake up screaming—that was what she had been trying to convey, even if she couldn't remember upon waking. And now Rose was here.
"Sharon," she spoke to her absent daughter. "I understand now. I know how much you've been suffering. But don’t worry. There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. I will save you. No matter what, I will save you."
Tears welled up, but Rose did not cry. There was no time for tears. She had to find Sharon and take her home.
Rose returned to Silent Hill's main street. This town seemed to be perpetually shrouded in fog, making it impossible to see far ahead. She called Sharon's name repeatedly, but there was no response. There wasn't even a hint of another person's presence nearby. Ash continued to fell incessantly, like grimy snow. The ash had an oily texture, smearing Rose's fingertips when she crushed it. Under the relentless fall of ash, Rose walked, peering into abandoned stores and parked cars along the way.
And then, she finally reached it.
The road was heavily cracked, heaving like colliding icebergs. The road—and the world—ended abruptly there. It was a cliff, a sheer drop-off. Beyond the deep chasm, everything was shrouded in mist, as if this were the edge of the world. Peering down, the bottom was invisible. The asphalt felt hot. She sensed hellfire burning directly below. Rose dropped to her knees, calling Sharon's name into the unseen depths. This time, she was grateful for the lack of response.
A voice spoke from directly behind her.
"Only the darkness can open and close the doors of Silent Hill."
Rose stood up in surprise.
There was a tall, middle-aged woman standing there. She wore a dirty coat the same color as the falling ash. Her greasy hair twisted over her pale face, and she glared at Rose with an intense expression. She didn't look quite sane, yet she was undeniably human.
"Do you know what's going on here?" Rose asked, approaching the woman. The woman evaded her with a feather-light movement. "I'm looking for my daughter," Rose explained. "We got separated. She's just a little girl. I'm worried she might be hurt."
The woman, glaring at Rose with bloodshot eyes, said, "We've all lost our children. Our future." As she spoke, she orbited around Rose like a satellite. "Fear drives us to it. Fear of what we've done. But still, Alessa is my child."
Rose looked into the woman's red-rimmed eyes. They were dim and perpetually tear-filled, yet her gaze was sharp, piercing Rose's heart like an arrow, as if she were peering directly into her soul. The woman's face hardened beneath the heavy, sodden curtain of her hair. "They deceived me. Those wicked people," she said sharply. "Alessa!" Rose began to realize that this woman might be more insane than she had initially thought. "They hurt my child," the woman continued. "They did terrible things to Alessa."
Rose opened the locket hanging around her neck. "This is my daughter, Sharon." She showed the woman the photograph inside. "She has a condition that makes her sleepwalk. I need to get close to her to keep her safe. If you see her, please tell her to wait for me."
The ragged woman looked at Sharon's photograph with a serious expression, then smiled. Rose felt a small sense of relief. Perhaps this woman had lost her own child and gone mad because of it.
"She's a beautiful child," the woman said, her lips tightening into a grim line as she reached for the locket. "This is mine!"
"No, it's not!" Rose shouted, pulling back. But the woman grabbed her wrist, trying to wrest the locket from her.
"It's mine!" The two struggled, grappling with each other. Rose was gradually pushed towards the edge of the cliff. "It's mine! It's mine!" the woman shrieked. "You were drawn here, but the darkness will deal with you. Now give it to me!" She shoved Rose with all her strength, pushing her towards the abyss.
At the last moment, Rose managed to steady herself, then shoved the woman back. The woman fell unceremoniously to the ground. Rose turned on her heel and ran without looking back.
"Foolish woman!" the woman screamed behind her. "Alessa is mine!"
Ten o'clock in the morning.
Christopher was at a gas station in Brahms. He felt exhausted like a rag. It wasn't just because he had been driving all night but it's also he could not stopped thinking about his wife and daughter. He hated dwelling on things, but he couldn't help it. Christopher felt that this situation was entirely his fault. He had been blaming himself the whole time.
Rose took such drastic actions because I was too busy to be there for her. She was worrying about Sharon all by herself. I thought I was offering support, but Rose probably saw me as self-righteous. She had been thinking alone, just worrying every day. I should have taken responsibility for Sharon's issue before Rose got this desperate. I should have found that hospital weeks ago, slowly convinced her, and then admited Sharon there. Eventually, Rose would have understood that it was the best solution. If I had done that, everything would have gone smoothly.
Christopher couldn't figure out what was causing his daughter to have nightmares or sleepwalk but he didn't think it was a serious problem in itself. Every doctor said that children sleepwalking is a temporary condition. It would go away in time. Sharon is artistic and exceptionally sensitive. She's always drawing, much more intelligent, and perceptive than the other children. There were no issues within the family. His relationship with his wife was good, and his work was going well.
She probably saw something scary on TV and exaggerated it in her imagination. That led to nightmares, and those nightmares led to even worse ones.
It was a common vicious cycle.
Christopher didn't know where Sharon had heard the name Silent Hill. However, it was still a town that made it into the newspapers recently. She must have seen or heard about it somewhere. Boys love ghost towns and ghost stories. Maybe they told such stories to get Sharon's attention. Anyway, if she were admitted to that hospital in Canada, the doctors would break the cycle.
Unlike the incompetent doctors who had treated Sharon thus far, the doctors at that hospital were reportedly highly capable. If she could get a good night's sleep, Sharon would surely get better. And if she were in the hospital, Rose would also be able to get some rest. Everything will be fine. I'll make sure of it.
Christopher walked toward the gas station. Inside was an older man with graying hair who might know something about his wife and daughter's location.
"Hello," Christopher called out.
The man was tinkering under the hood of a small car. He only grunted and didn’t bother to look up. Christopher took out a photo of Rose.
"My wife should have passed through here last night. Did you see her?"
The man went to fetch another tool. Then he reluctantly opened his mouth.
"At night, only my daughter’s here," he said.
He didn’t seem like a very friendly type.
"Actually, they were heading to a place called Silent Hill," Christopher said. "Do you know how to get there?"
"You can’t go there," came the immediate reply.
For the first time, the man looked directly at Christopher.
"The coal’s still burning underground, so the town’s sealed off. Poison gas and all that," he said.
The man lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.
"They say you’ll die if you inhale too much smoke," he said, exhaling a puff of smoke.
Christopher saw his unshaven face, beer belly, and nicotine-stained fingers. He pulled out his wallet so the man could see the money inside.
"I get it. So, how do you get there?"
In search of her car, Rose retraced her steps. She was exhausted. Just moving her legs felt like it took a monumental effort. She had left her cell phone in the car and was heading back to get it. She intended to call Christopher for help. Alone, she had reached her limit.
This place isn’t normal. It’s not just a ghost town.
She needed to apologize to Chris and find Sharon together. This wasn’t the time for stubbornness. If there’s no signal… then she’d head back to Brahms. Finally, through the mist, she could faintly make out her car sihlouette. Summoning her last bit of strength, she ran toward it.
She saw something on the ground. It was a piece of paper—a page from a sketchbook. It hadn’t been there when she left the Jeep. Rose bent down to pick it up. It was Sharon’s. A beautiful drawing of three sunflowers against a blue sky. Did Sharon return here?
"Sharon!"
Rose called out and looked around but Sharon was nowhere to be seen. Had she come back here? Or had someone else placed this? Inside the car, on the driver’s seat, there was another page. It had been scribbled on with black lines, much like the picture she had seen at the gas station. In the center was a black building. Nearby, crudely drawn people were either committing acts of violence or coughing up blood. The picture was done in black, blue, and red—colors reminiscent of bruises.
Rose felt a dark cloud settle over her mood.
The word "School" was scrawled across the top.
Was this some kind of note? Did someone trying to tell her something? Maybe Sharon was trying to contact her.
"Could Sharon be there?"
Rose sat in the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. Her cell phone had fallen between the seats. She put the strap around her neck, pressed the auto-dial button, and turned the key. The engine sputtered but wouldn’t start. She tried the ignition again.
"Come on, start," she whispered to the car.
If she could reach Christopher, she would take the car to the school. Even if she couldn’t find Sharon, she would go down the hill and call for help. But that was only if the car started. The call went through. Unfortunately, it went to voicemail.
"Hey, this is Chris. Leave a message."
It felt like ages since she last heard his voice. His voice was incredibly normal, the voice of a person living a normal life in a normal society. It was exactly what Rose needed right now. After the beep, Rose left a hurried message.
"Chris, it’s me. I’m in Silent Hill. I’m sorry—I was wrong. Sharon’s gone. But I think I know where she is. I’m going to search the school." Rose took a deep breath. "Chris, I need your help. I’m really sorry."
She hung up quickly, almost in tears, and tried the key again. But the engine just kept turning over. Maybe some ash was clogging it. If she kept trying, it might clear out. Hearing Christopher’s voice had given her a bit of her strength back.
"Come on!" she shouted at the car. "Fuck!"
As if in response, there was a tapping on the side window. It was the female police officer, the one on the motorcycle—Cybil, if she remembered correctly.
"Don’t move," Cybil said sharply. "Keep your hands at where I can see them."
When Rose tried to speak, Cybil Bennett repeated, "Put your hands on the wheel."
She was pointing a gun straight at Rose’s head, glaring at her with no hint of friendliness. She peered inside, checking the passenger and the back seats. Then she opened the driver’s side door.
"Where is the girl, ma’am?" Cybil asked.
"My daughter is missing. This is perfect timing. She is missing in this town. Please, I need help."
Cybil’s face twisted, glaring at Rose with eyes that screamed, "You crazy woman!"
Why was she so angry? What on earth was happening?
"Get out of the car. Now" Cybil demanded, grabbing Rose’s arm and dragging her out.
"Wait, what’s going on? I’m asking you to help find my daughter!"
Rose was roughly shoved against the hood of the car, sending the accumulated ash swirling into the air.
"I'm placing you under arrest," Cybil said, efficiently twisting Rose's arm behind her back.
"For what?" Rose shouted. "On what charges?"
"You have the right to remain silent," Cybil said, taking out her handcuffs. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
Is everyone here crazy? Rose tried to stay calm. She didn’t want to get into more trouble.
"Listen to me. This place is not normal. If this is your patrol area, you should know what I mean. My daughter disappeared right here. Do you understand? She’s in danger right now."
Cybil handcuffed Rose's hands behind her back.
"Wait a minute."
"If you were so worried about your little girl, you wouldn’t have run off last night," Cybil said, checking Rose's body for weapons.
"Please listen! Sharon is sick! She sleepwalks! That’s why—"
"Alright, calm down," Cybil soothed. "It's my job to find missing children."
That was a reasonable statement. This officer didn’t seem like the type to take someone’s kid. Considering Rose had sped away from a cop and lost her child, it wasn’t surprising she was suspected of a crime. Cybil took out her radio.
"Officer Bennett to base, over."
The radio crackled with static.
"Base, this is Bennett. Do you copy? Over."
There was only noise.
Cybil clicked her tongue. Rose noticed blood on her forehead. She must have had an accident too. Maybe she entered the town and experienced the same terrifying things Rose had. Is that why she’s so on edge?
"You're bleeding," Rose said sympathetically.
Cybil touched her forehead, seeing the blood on her fingers. She seemed confused.
"Cracked my head on the road pretty hard when i crashed my bike. I must’ve been out for a while. Can you walk?"
"Sure."
A normal conversation. Rose was grateful to meet someone she could talk to. With Cybil's help, she might find Sharon.
"Then we'll be walking back to Brahms."
Cybil grabbed Rose's arm and started walking, leaving the car behind.
"What?!"
"We're going to the station."
Cybil dragged Rose along as she marched.
"You’ve got to be kidding! Did you not listen to anything I just said?"
"I'm listening," Cybil answered without stopping. "You lost your daughter, so you need help" Cybil said without stopping.
"But then why…" Rose was at a loss for words. Was this officer really planning to leave Sharon alone in that town? How could she do something so cruel?
"We have to walk for miles, ma'am. Pull yourself together. Understand?" Cybil continued walking, her tone firm and unyielding.
Rose planted her feet in the middle of the road. "My name is Rose. Rose Da Silva. My daughter is at the school and we need to go there. I can't leave her alone in this town!"
"I'm Cybil Bennett and I'm an officer. Let me tell you this, I don't trust you. You ran from me. You had a girl with you, and now that girl is missing. You say she's your daughter, but there's no proof. Two years ago, a man came here and threw the boys he had kidnapped into the mine vents just because he thought it was fun. I helped with the rescue, but we couldn't save everyone," Cybil said, her voice filled with disgust. "As a cop, I can handle most things but seeing dead children is something I won't tolerate. I never want to see that again."
"I would never hurt my own daughter!" Rose exclaimed, her anger flaring up.
"How do I know she's really your daughter?" Cybil retorted, pulling on Rose's arm. There was logic in her words. She wasn't acting out of spite or arbitrary decisions; she was a decent officer. Realizing this, Rose felt a small sense of relief, and her anger subsided.
She began to think about how to gain Cybil's trust and make her an ally.
"Chris, it's me. I'm in Silent Hill. I'm sorry." Rose's voice on the answering machine was drowned out by loud static. Through the noise, he could barely make out the words "school" and "I need your help." His heart wrenched as he listened to the message over and over again.
What about the school? Should he go there?
One thing was clear: She needed his help.
Christopher pressed the accelerator. He had already left the highway and was driving along the mountain road leading to Silent Hill. He should be arriving at the town soon. Heavy rain had started pouring at some point. He saw the chain-link fence that closed off the old bridge. However, it was no longer effective. Someone had broken through it. A police car was parked diagonally, blocking half of the narrow bridge. On the other side, three policemen were huddled under a single umbrella. It was a police barricade. With a sinking feeling, Christopher approached. A young officer came up to him as Christopher got out of the car, instantly soaked as if he had been plunged into a pool.
"I'm sorry, but this road is closed. You'll have to turn around" the young officer said.
"I'm looking for my wife. She was driving a car with Ohio plates."
The young officer, looking surprised, spoke into the microphone attached to his collar.
"Sir, this man's wife is the one that was driving that car."
Christopher's anxiety grew. Had Rose broken through this fence? Had they found her? A man in the distance turned to look at him. He was quite tall. Since he wasn't in uniform, he was likely a detective or something similar.
"What happened to my wife?"
The young officer didn't answer. Christopher tried to pass him and cross the bridge. The man in plain clothes approached, holding an umbrella.
"Inspector Thomas Gucci" he introduced himself, extending a gloved hand. "Lovely weather, isn't it?"
"Where is my wife?" Christopher had no patience for the detective's joke. Detective Gucci shrugged. Christopher attempted to walk past him and cross the bridge.
"Hold on a second."
Gucci blocked his path.
"We found the car you're talking about, just across the bridge. But there was no one inside and there were no signs of anyone being harmed, either."
"That's a relief."
Christopher ran his hand through his wet hair, trying to spot his wife's car through the rain, but Gucci was obstructing his view.
"So? What is your wife doing out here? Uh, Mr.…?"
"Da Silva. Christopher Da Silva."
"Are you from Portugal?"
"That's not important right now. You should be starting the search immediately. Isn't that your job? Talking with me here isn't helping."
"Calm down, Chris," Gucci soothed. "One of our officers is missing too. A very capable officer named Cybil Bennett. She’s probably out there looking for your wife and daughter."
Christopher prayed that the officer had already found them. Then he realized something: Gucci knew about Sharon, even though he hadn't mentioned her. After glancing at him, Gucci addressed the young officer. "Bobby! Make sure no one passes through here. We're gonna get our asses to Silent Hill." He turned back to Christopher. "On the way, you can explain the situation to me. Is that alright?"
Christopher had no choice but to nod. They headed to Gucci's car and got in.
"We lost contact with Bennett, which is why we started to investigate," Gucci began, fastening his seatbelt. "She was last seen at a gas station in Brahms, then disappeared. Just before that, a woman with a young girl was seen at the same station, asking for directions to Silent Hill." Gucci started the engine and asked, "Why did your wife take your daughter to that town?"
"It's a long story. Did my wife crash the car, or did she just abandon it?"
"Chris," Gucci said, still looking straight ahead, "I'd very much like to hear that long story."
How could she persuade Cybil to turn back to Silent Hill immediately? Rose pondered this as she walked with her. There were no cars or people passing by on the road. Despite everything, Cybil kept walking briskly. The greasy ash was falling more heavily, and the fog remained dense, making everything feel even more dismal.
"Why did you come here in the middle of the night?" Cybil suddenly asked.
"I came here just after nine. That's too early to be considered midnight," Rose replied. Then she remembered. Just before the accident, the clock had read 9:24. The previous time she had looked, it was 9:29. A split-second discrepancy might happen, but a five-minute delay, especially one that seemed to have turn back time by five minutes, was impossible.
At that moment, the radio had given a warning, and Sharon started screaming. Something had happened then. Something that caused time to rewind by five minutes. Perhaps, at that moment, the two worlds connected. One was our world. The other was the world inhabited by monsters.
Rose gasped. She almost bumped into Cybil’s back.
"Don’t stop so sudden..."
Beyond Cybil, there it was. A giant fissure, like a crevasse in the polar ice. The other side was obscured by fog. Peering down, she saw no bottom. It was an abyss that separated this world from the other.
"What the hell..." Cybil stared at it, her face pale.
"Walking back to Brahms is impossible," Rose said. "We need to go back to Silent Hill."
Cybil pondered for a moment and then spoke. "There’s a fire-lookout tower on the other side of Toluca Lake. There should be a radio there." She grabbed Rose’s arm and started walking back the way they had come.
"The other side of town is in the same condition," Rose said. "This town is isolated—from the world. Common sense doesn’t apply here. Please, take off these handcuffs. If we work together, we can..."
Cybil released Rose’s arm, staring intently at a nearby slope.
"Hey, you there! Stop!" Cybil shouted. "I’m a police officer!"
At that moment, Cybil’s radio began emitting a harsh noise.
"They’re coming," Rose said. "We need to run. That’s not a person."
There was a smell. A metallic, rotting odor. Whatever was on the slope was slowly approaching.
"What is that?" Cybil was stunned.
It moved awkwardly, its back hunched. Rose couldn’t identify it, but she knew it wasn’t human.
"Stop right there," Cybil ordered.
"Damn it, we need to go. It’s a monster."
Cybil drew her gun from its holster. "Stop right there!"
The creature’s misshapen legs pushed its body forward jerkily. It was naked, its skin a fleshy color, with dark veins visible beneath the surface. It had no arms. Its large head was a mere lump of flesh. The smell grew stronger, more nauseating. There was a puckered hole in its chest.
"What the fuck?" Cold sweat trickled down Rose’s clenched hand. "It’s a monster. Can’t you tell?"
Cybil aimed her gun at the creature with both hands. "Stop!"
The creature then widened the hole in its chest and sprayed black liquid from it. Cybil quickly dodged, but the black liquid hit her helmet and uniform. Instantly, white smoke started to rise.
It was melting.
Cybil threw her helmet to the ground. The hard white plastic dissolved like a sugar cube. The acrid smell stung the air. She tore off her melting jacket and discarded it. Then she fired. Eight shots in rapid succession and all hit the monster in front of her. It shuddered, as if laughing, twice, three times. But it did not fall. It continued its awkward advance towards Cybil. There must be many of these things here. If Sharon even encountered one of them... The thought made Rose frantic. "Damn it!" she yelled, firing a ninth shot. Finally, the monster collapsed.
Seeing this, Rose ran. Cybil might be an excellent cop, but she was too stubborn. Maybe she'd understand eventually, but by then, who knew what would happen to Sharon?
Rose realized she had to find Sharon herself. And she had to get her out of here.
School. That was the only clue.
As Rose reached each street corner, she kept searching for the school, moving into the residential area on the outskirts of Silent Hill. But there was no school anywhere. Her hands were still cuffed behind her. She had almost tripped several times, but it seemed she had put a good distance between herself and Cybil. Rose stopped and stepped over the handcuffs, bringing her arms from behind to the front. That made things a lot easier.
Finally, she had a moment to think. Simply running around wouldn’t help her find the school. She needed a plan. If she stayed calm and observed, she might find a solution. In the mist, she saw a bus stop ahead. Rose ran towards it and looked at the stop. As she expected, one side of the pole had a map. It was a route map. This was the 119 route, which seemed to run across the town.
Rose read the street names as she went. She was currently on Lindsay Street, which marked one end of the bus route. Next came Bachman Street, Neely Street—where there was a post office—and then Madison Street...
She started to run again. She would follow the bus route. Schools were usually located along major bus routes. Even if the school wasn't on this street, she might have more time to look at the map at the next stop. The map she had seen earlier marked the location of the post office, so the school should be marked as well.
Rose kept running along Madison Street. The next bus stop was coming up. She eagerly looked at the map on the pole. The next stop was on Carroll Street, then the following one was Midwich... Midwich Elementary School! It was close.
Passing by modest brick houses for two or three blocks, she finally saw the school. It was labeled Midwich Elementary School. The stately, old-fashioned brick building stood before her, with leafless trees in front. The skeletal trees and the dead lawn were thickly covered with ash. Could Sharon be hiding here? Rose ran up the stairs and stood at the front entrance. She hadn't noticed the three men standing behind her. The men, dressed like miners, watched her enter the school, exchanging uneasy glances.
Rose entered through the front door and glanced up at the staircase ahead.
"Sharon!" she called out.
Silence was the only response. The entrance door behind her closed on its own, echoing loudly. Rose turned around. It was a wooden door with stained glass in the upper half. She recognized the pattern. In the center was a cross depicted in blue and purple. She remembered immediately. It was from one of Sharon's drawings. The emblem on the steeple of the church Sharon had drawn—four crosses extending outward from a circle. It was distinctive enough to be memorable. This cross was identical.
How did Sharon be able to draw this so precisely? Could she have known this place? Perhaps she had seen it in her long, wandering nightmares.
Could she still be here?
Rose began to climb the stairs. The walls bore inscriptions from the Bible:
Let the wicked be slained; The foes of the righteous will be condemned.
This place might have been a school run by a religious organization. Rose emerged into the upstairs hallway. The paint was peeling off the walls, and various debris littered the floor. Despite the damage, it seemed to have escaped the fire that ravaged the town in 1974. However, the acidic fumes and toxic gases that permeated the town had corroded everything. Metal was rusted, paint melted, burnt, crumbled, and decayed.
Rose walked carefully, knowing those monsters could be nearby. Her footsteps echoed through the empty corridor. She came across a room marked "Office." Entering, she found it empty as well. Dust rose as she rifled through papers on the desk.
She found a set of keys.
Testing them in various locks, she eventually discovered a flashlight in a drawer. Switching it on, the light flickered to life. The battery still had some life left. Slowly, Rose illuminated the dim office. The light only accentuated the overwhelming darkness.
The rain had stopped. A hint of blue sky was visible. It was clear just how essential the sun is to people. Christopher gazed out the car window, feeling a glimmer of hope even in such a place. He had entered Silent Hill with Inspector Gucci. It was a ghost town. For thirty years, underground fires had been turning the town into a massive oven. The asphalt melted and glistening, and thick white smoke rose from the seemingly bottomless cracks.
A gray, dead town. That was Silent Hill.
They arrived on Main Street. Christopher rolled down the window and called out Sharon's name.
"Close the window!" Gucci shouted. "The toxic fumes will get in."
The car was immediately filled with a foul stench. Christopher quickly closed the window, feeling like his throat was coated in sand. He coughed violently. Watching him coolly, Gucci smirked and grabbed the car's microphone.
"Mrs. Da Silva, we are the police. We will take you back to a safe place," he said slowly through the car's speaker.
"Let me try," Christopher said, but Gucci ignored him.
"We are the police. We are here to take you back to a safe place."
"I said, let me do it," Christopher repeated, reaching for the microphone. Gucci blocked his hand. Now clearly irritated, Christopher insisted. "Why won't you let me talk to her?"
"Chris, when a wife runs off with a child to a place like this, nine times out of ten, she's damn mad at her husband. Or she's very scared," Gucci said, amused. "If she hears her husband's voice, she'll bolt like a rabbit that caught the scent of a lion. It happens all the time. Rich or poor, marital troubles are the same."
Gucci listed several common marital issues.
"So, why did your wife bring your daughter here? She’s headed to a school, right? Is she planning to transfer her?"
"Is the school still far?" Christopher asked, ignoring Gucci's question.
Gucci laughed derisively. "You don’t seem eager to talk about it, Chris. Whatever secrets you have…"
"I don't really understand it myself. Why my wife did this. Why she brought our child to a town like this, like hell," Christopher admitted.
Gucci smirked. "There's coal still burning under this town. Yeah, it might be hell. Maybe that day, the town really did fall into hell." Gucci stared ahead with a dark expression. "They were good people. Well, most of them. Some deserved what they got to them."
After talking non-stop, Gucci fell silent, lost in some memory from the past.
Rose walked down a dark hallway lined with rusted lockers. The doors were broken, revealing tattered blue uniforms hanging from the ceiling. All of them looked worn out, as if they had been corroded by acid fumes.
There was a sound.
Rose pointed the flashlight in the direction of the sound, but whatever it was ran away.
"Who's there?" she shouted as she ran. "Sharon!"
Then she heard birds chirping. Rose stopped, sensing something ominous. Someone was at the bottom of the stairs. She quickly turned off her flashlight and hid, holding her breath. She could hear the birds fluttering in their cages. Beams of light crisscrossed as men carrying metal cages ascended the stairs.
They were coal miners, wearing overalls made from thick canvas and leather, seemingly pieced together from mining gear found around the area. Their faces were obscured by old-fashioned gas masks, making them look like robots made of mud. They were human, or so Rose thought, but they scared her as much as the monsters did. She stayed hidden until the men passed and then silently ran outside without turning on her flashlight.
She found herself in the schoolyard, surrounded by school buildings. Rose circled the courtyard and entered the school again through another door. The ceiling had collapsed, and the desks and chairs were strewn everywhere, all covered in a thick layer of dust and ash. It was a clear picture of utter desolation.
Navigating the difficult corridor, she passed through multiple classrooms. She peered through the dust-coated windows but saw no one. Something was drawing her to one in particular, so she opened the door. She felt there was a hint hidden here, perhaps being guided by someone. Rose moved slowly between the desks like a teacher supervising a test. The curtains were deteriorating, ready to fall apart. Dust filled the air with every step, making her feel like she was walking on the ocean floor.
It was a dreadful place. The fact that children once learned here made it even worse, like being in a place where women and children were massacred during a war. Rose suppressed her unease and finally found what she was looking for. On a desk was a fresh handprint, small, like that of a child, seemingly made as a deliberate mark. It was left there on purpose, to signal something.
Tracing the handprint with her fingers, she knew. "Sharon," she called out. "Where are you hiding?"
In the middle of the handprint was an old scar, a knife-carved mark on the desk that read "WITCH." Though it was just graffiti, it emanated a profound sense of malice, as if hatred and evil were seeping from the wood. Rose opened the desk lid to find old notebooks and broken pencils. One of the notebooks had a name written on it: Alessa Gillespie. This was likely the name of the girl who once sat here.
Hadn’t the woman who tried to push Rose off the cliff mentioned her daughter's name was Alessa? "They did something terrible to her," she had said.
At that moment, a burst of light exploded in Rose's mind. It was like a blow to the head, a sudden shock, and Rose found herself standing amidst a riot.
There were girls in blue uniforms, all seething with rage.
"Burn the witch! Burn the witch! Burn the witch!" they chanted, throwing scraps of paper and books. At the center of this storm of anger was a small girl with her head down on a desk. Books and paper scraps weren't the only things falling on her—malice, reeking like acid, was attacking her.
"Burn the witch! Burn the witch! Burn the witch!" The children surrounded her in the darkness, their chanting fueling their hatred. Drunk on their own malice, the girls were closing in on their prey.
"Stop!" Rose shouted involuntarily.
In an instant, everything vanished, just as it had appeared. It was likely a memory from the past, as if someone had hammered it directly to her mind.
"Alessa Gillespie," she murmured.
And then, as if called by that name, Rose saw a small girl running down the corridor. Rose lets go of the desk lid in shock, causing it to slam shut and send up a cloud of dust. She darted out of the classroom. Something in her mind was starting to connect. The girl she had just seen wasn't Sharon. She was wearing a blue uniform—the same uniform that all the girls in the vision were wearing. It must be the uniform of this school.
"Wait!" she called out, chasing after the girl. She had been running so much today, and Rose knew that her body could move even more when pushed to its limits. She raced up the stairs and saw the girl’s back down the corridor. She followed her until the girl vanished through a door, passing right through it like a ghost in a movie. Rose opened the door and found herself in a bathroom.
She heard the sound of a child crying. It was coming from one of the stalls, but as she got closer, she couldn't tell which one. The sobbing echoed throughout the room. Rose held the flashlight like a knife and peeked under the stalls. She saw black shoes with buckles. Rose swung the door open.
The stall was empty, and the crying stopped abruptly. Rose started opening the stalls one by one. This was another message, another attempt by the girl to communicate. But all she found were filthy toilets. Finally, she reached the last stall. An overpowering stench of blood and excrement hit her, something she should have noticed earlier. She heard the child's sobbing again.
"It's okay," Rose said, half-reassuring herself. "Don't cry." She illuminated the stall with her flashlight and placed her hand on the door. "I promise I'm gonna help you."
Rose slowly opened the door. She instinctively turned away.
Inside was yet another grotesquely tortured body. The man’s back was arched so severely that his heels touched his head. Barbed wire, like Christmas tree garlands, wrapped around his body. His chest bore a name tag that read "Colin." Colin’s abdomen was slashed open, his intestines spilling out. His spine was clearly broken. Most horrifying of all, an IV was inserted into his wrist, connected to a bag filled with sludge and waste that was being pumped into his veins.
The stench of blood and excrement filled the air. Rose fought hard to suppress her nausea. There was nothing left to see here. She had to get out. As she backed away, she noticed something on the wall. Scrawled graffiti read, "GO TO HELL!" with an arrow pointing to the man's head.
That girl. She must have done this and led Rose here. But why? For what purpose?
The man’s mouth gaped open, and something inside caught the light. Rose, with her flashlight, approached cautiously, holding her breath as she brought her face closer. There was something inside his mouth. She couldn't hold her breath any longer. Rose reached in and pulled out the object. It was a tarnished copper plate with some letters etched into it, though the writing was faded and difficult to read.
“...SODO... HOTEL”
Sharon is at the hotel! This was what the girl was trying to tell her.
But there was no time to think further. The stench was overwhelming, and Rose’s head began to throb again. She dashed out of the restroom, only to find the miners there. They all turned simultaneously, pointing their lights at her. Panicked, she retreated back into the restroom and slammed the door shut.
She fumbled in her pocket for the set of keys and began trying them one by one. Her fingers trembled, making it difficult to fit the keys into the keyhole. The third key finally fit, and as soon as she locked the door, there was a loud pounding on it. Rose braced the door with her back. The door groaned and creaked under the force of the men’s kicks. The old wooden door seemed ready to splinter apart at any moment.
She had to do something. It was only a matter of time before the door gave way. The men outside were silent. They didn't ask who she was, what she was doing there, or tell her to come out. They just kept kicking the door relentlessly, like somber workers focused on their grim task. Maybe this was their job—kicking down doors and dragging people out. She didn’t want to imagine what might happen next.
There was a flutter of bird wings, desperate and frightened, trying to escape something. The kicking stopped. Their footsteps receded as the miners withdrew. Outside, it was eerily quiet. Rose waited a while longer before cautiously opening the door. No one was there. It was as if no one had ever been there. She had to find the hotel now, wherever it might be.
Rose stepped out into the hallway. That’s when she heard it—the siren. It was starting again. The faint light began to fade, and darkness enveloped everything. They were coming again.
The walls turned red with rust, corroding and crumbling away. The toxic gas caused the paint to peel off with a harsh, cracking sound, scattering like confetti at a party. The world was decaying around her. Rose stifled a scream, pressing her hand to her mouth. She survived once before. She would survive this time too. She had to believe that as long as she was safe, Sharon would be safe as well.
Acidic vapors rose from beyond the restroom, and the hallway filled with a slimy, insect-like fluid. Unbearable mechanical noises began to echo. It was a nightmare and she had to overcome it. She would survive. Rose mustered her dwindling courage and started down the hallway. A sound came from the direction of the restroom. She turned her flashlight towards it.
There was a man there. A man whose abdomen had been split open, spine broken, unmistakably dead. Yet he crawled, twisting his body down the hallway. Blindfolded with barbed wire, he groped at the walls and floor, sticking out his swollen blue tongue. Like a venomous snake, he seemed to sense Rose's presence with his tongue. Wherever he touched, the walls and floor instantly rusted and decayed. His claws scraped at the corroded walls. Rose stepped back.
Run.
She thought it, but her legs wouldn't move. The man's outstretched arms, hands, and fingers squirmed towards Rose. When it touched her leg, she felt the touch of death. It was as if she were rotting alive. Rose screamed. Her voice freed her body, and she bolted down the hallway at full speed.
The darkness engulfed everything. The hallway was fenced off. No, this wasn't a school hallway anymore. The walls peeled, the ceiling crumbled, exposing innards-like frameworks. The space distorted and crushed, oozing putrid fluids. Rose ran blindly through the morphing space.
Run. Keep moving. Escape and find Sharon.
The smell of rust and blood filled the air, mixed with the stinging scent of acid. She found herself at a staircase, which led into a room as she descended. Steam hissed from the ruptured walls. Things hung from the ceiling, like meat in an abandoned slaughterhouse. Had these once been people? Their pale, swollen skin peeled and decayed, turning them into grotesque figures. It was like a haunted house. A disturbingly real one, a place to experience fear for a moment at a summer carnival. Only this one was far too well made, and there was no exit at the end.
Rose swallowed her scream and ran past. Flashlight in hand, she tumbled down the stairs, passing through another mutilated corpse hanging upside down. She ignored it and continued down the spiral staircase, which seemed to stretch endlessly below. She refused to be deceived by abnormal illusions. Without thinking, she kept descending, believing no staircase was infinite. Finally, she reached the last curve. She had made it to the bottom. There was no such thing as an endless spiral staircase. Every nonsensical event has an end.
But she couldn't celebrate just yet. The hallway's walls and floor were seething, like the surface of boiling water. She heard a noise, like a paper bag being scratched by countless needles. Her flashlight revealed it. A swarm of insects, numbering in the thousands or millions. Their glistening bodies and long antennae made them look like cockroaches, but they were over thirty centimeters long. They fell from the ceiling, crawled up the walls, and swarmed over each other, all converging on their prey.
Their....prey?
It was the three miners who had tried to capture Rose. The men flailed their arms and stomped their feet madly. Their dance didn't last long. They soon collapsed to the floor, unable to stand, and were buried in a swarm of insects. Their screams were heard but these too were short-lived. Like drowning men, their final outstretched arms disappeared into the swarm. The mountain of insects gradually grew smaller as the insects sated their ravenous appetites. Rose had no intention of witnessing their horrific deaths to the end. She screamed and fled.
But escape wasn't easy. Once again, chain-link fences formed a maze. Desperate for an exit, Rose ran. She kept running. There was a door. It was strangely deformed, but unmistakably a classroom door. She opened it and burst inside. At that moment, Rose saw her. The girl in the blue uniform. Alessa Gillespie, the girl who had been bullied and called a witch. The pale girl's hair was black and her eyes were gray. Despite the dark expression that changed her demeanor, she looked exactly like Sharon.
What does this mean? Rose couldn't think any further. The floor had split open. She stepped into the crevice. Her body floated in the air.
When she awoke, Rose was lying in the hallway. Her entire body ached terribly, and even the slightest movement made her groan. She managed to prop herself up on her elbows and noticed that she was still clutching the flashlight tightly in her hand. She let out a sob. She was scared. Terrified. For a moment, she even considered just lying there. But that wasn't an option. She looked up at the sound of rustling. A swarm of insects.
They surged like a flood, swarming into the hallway. At the center of the wave, there was a figure. At first, she thought it was another victim. But it wasn't. He was like the king of the insects, leading the swarm toward Rose with a certain dignity. His upper body was bare, and instead of a head, he had a massive pyramid-shaped helmet. The metal pyramid was the same rust color as the rest of this world, corroded and rusted, dripping with blood and pus. He carried a similarly rust-colored, massive sword.
The man walked straight toward Rose, treading on a carpet of insects. What hung loosely around his waist was not cloth but skin. Likely that of humans. He wore their flayed and bloodied skin, flapping around his waist, fluttering like intestines in the wind. There was nothing more horrifying than this creature. Rose stood up and started running.
Flames licked up from the cracked ground. Run, run. Whether this is hell or not, just keep running and get out. Like a marathon runner, Rose focused only on escaping. This nightmare will end eventually. If Sharon is trapped in an unending nightmare, I will end it for her. Forward, forward. Rose continued to run relentlessly until she reached the schoolyard.
Alongside Gucci, Christopher arrived at the school. As he hurried to get out of the car, Gucci stopped him and handed him a gas mask.
"The coal is still burning underground. Toxic gas is leaking from there. If you don't want to burn your throat, put this on."
Wearing the mask, they proceeded into the desolate school building. They searched thoroughly but found no one and no clues. Disappointed, Christopher stepped out into the schoolyard.
And then he felt it. It's hard to explain that feeling to someone. For example, when you're relaxing in the living room after work and suddenly sense your wife's presence beside you. You don't see or hear her voice, but you feel the gentle wave of kindness that she exudes. Haven't you had that experience? Sensing the very existence of a trusted family member, that feeling.
That's what Christopher felt now. Rose was nearby. He felt it instinctively. Right under his nose.
He removed his mask and shouted, "Rose!" Reaching out as he called, he felt her presence there. She was undeniably there. For just a fleeting moment. His fingertips brushed against that warmth.
Chris...
She had definitely heard her husband's voice. Rose looked around but she couldn't see him. All she saw was the pyramid-headed man still pursuing her.
Something touched her cheek but she wasn't afraid. She knew that touch belonged to Chris.
"You came for me."
That fact encouraged her. She ran toward a door in the brick wall, pushed it open, and reentered the school building. Then she ran down the hallway. Lockers lined one side. Was it the same hallway she had entered earlier? But in this dark, oppressive world, she couldn't even trust what she saw so she kept running. However, she was reaching her limit. She felt like she was running endlessly, but only sticky footsteps echoed, and she made no progress. It was like trying to escape a nightmare.
Finally, her knees gave out, and she collapsed to the floor. Once she stopped, it was even harder to stand, let alone run. Then she heard that sound again—the sound of sharp insect claws scratching at the walls.
"Persistent, aren't they?"
Muttering to herself, she tried to stand. She planted her hands on the floor and managed to get up. The sound was right behind her. She looked and saw a wave of giant cockroaches surging toward her.
Keep going, keep running.
Panicking, she couldn't move forward. Was this the end? Rose prayed to God. Then, a bright light pierced her eyes. Rose shielded her eyes with her hand. An angel? In her tired mind, she thought an angel had appeared. Her hand was grabbed, and she stumbled, being dragged along the floor. A door closed behind her. She had been pulled into a room.
Is this a new enemy? But... I can't escape anymore.
Preparing herself, Rose looked up from the floor.
"Cybil!"
Standing before her was the police officer, Cybil Bennett. Holding the door with her body, Cybil spoke.
"Grab that pipe!"
Rose looked into the room. There was a large fan pushing air in, with a twisted pipe sticking out. She rushed over and tried to remove the pipe. Her arms, shoulders, and hips creaked and ached. Behind Cybil, who was holding the door, she could hear the insects crawling. One of the insects managed to slip in and tried to bite Cybil's leg. In an instant, it was crushed under Cybil's boot, its dirty yellow guts splattering.
"Hurry! Get it off!" Cybil shouted.
"I got it!"
Rose shouted back, clutching the pipe. She ran back to the door, and together with Cybil, they wedged it in. For a while, they were safe. For the first time since arriving at the school, Rose could catch her breath.
"Is there a way out of here?"
In response to Rose's question, Cybil answered curtly.
"No."
Cybil took out a magazine from her pocket and showed it to Rose before loading it into her gun.
"This is my last one."
Then she took out a key and removed Rose's handcuffs. For the first time in a long while, Rose's hands were free. Things were starting to look up, she thought. Chris had come to rescue her. It wouldn't be long now. Soon, she would bring Sharon home.
"Thanks," Rose said, rubbing her wrists.
"Just know," Cybil looked at Rose sternly, "I haven't ruled out the possibility that you're a kidnapper."
"Do you really believe that?"
"...Well, unlikely."
"You came all this way to help me."
"I never let someone I've arrested escape. Then I remembered you mentioned the school. So I came back here to arrest you. I never expected to find giant cockroaches. Those things spewing black goo... How am I supposed to write a report on this?"
Rose chuckled. Even now, Cybil was seriously worrying about the report.
"What's so funny?"
"It's just..."
"Try writing even one accident report. You'll see how hard it is."
"If I can get out of here safely with my daughter, I'll write that report for you."
"It isn't a student's homework," Cybil said, and then she laughed too.
Suddenly, there was a nerve-wracking sound of metal scraping against metal. Rose shivered. Cybil cautiously stepped away from the door.
"It's him," Rose said. It was the sound of the pyramid-headed man scraping his long sword against the floor and walls.
"Who? An acquaintance of yours?"
"No. He's someone you definitely can't put in a report."
"One of those types, huh? Once a day is enough."
There was a loud bang. The door split open, and a rusted sword thrust through. It was unbelievably large, its tip reaching the far end of the narrow room. The blade swung left and right, searching for them like a giant snake looking for its prey. Then, with a dreadful scraping sound, the sword retracted. A huge hole was left in the metal door.
From the hole, a swarm of insects poured in, pushing and shoving each other as they rushed toward the two women. Impatient, they bit and tore at each other, yellow body fluids splattering. Rose and Cybil desperately stomped on the approaching insects. They brushed off those that climbed their legs, throwing them against the walls. The filthy fluids pooled on the floor, making it slippery.
If they fell, it would be over. Or maybe it was already over.
One insect crawled up to Rose's chest, opening its jaws to bite her throat. Just then, the insects suddenly retreated like a receding tide. Standing among them was the pyramid-headed man. He had given the retreat order. It seemed he intended to finish the job himself.
Cybil fired. There was no hesitation. She instinctively knew this was no human. Two, three, four shots—gunfire echoed continuously. Rose pressed her hands to her ears. Each bullet caused the pyramid-headed man to jerk and shudder as if dancing. Blood or rust spattered, she couldn't tell which. But it was clear he wasn't mortally wounded.
He raised his long sword and advanced. If he swung that heavy sword with full force, he could split someone from head to groin. At that moment, the world pulsed and wavered like a heartbeat. The insects at the pyramid-headed man's feet began to dissolve, turning into dirty stains like melted ice cream on the pavement. The man awkwardly turned, lowered his sword, and left the room. Light shone from behind.
There was a window. Despite the mist, the schoolyard looked normal. The wooden walls, stripped of their paint, transformed. The time of darkness had finally ended.
Christopher stared at the gloomy, fog-covered landscape with a heavy heart. Gucci was driving, taking them back to the bridge where the fence had been. Rose and Sharon were still in that desolate place. Gucci was doing his best to explain how competent Cybil, the officer searching for Rose, was. He assured Christopher that there was nothing to worry about, and that Cybil likely had both of them safe by now, waiting for the rescue team, equipped with gas masks, to reach them.
Gucci kept talking to the silent Christopher.
"Cybil knows the rules, but she also has the courage to do things her own way when necessary. She's an exceptional officer, incomparable to the cowards you find around here. I've always said that a small town like this doesn't deserve someone like her. You don't have to worry, everything will be fine. Cybil will get it done and your wife and daughter will be safe. By afternoon, the three of you will be eating in town. I'll take you to the best steakhouse; their T-bone is amazing."
Gucci kept talking. Maybe he was naturally talkative, but it seemed more like he was talking to avoid saying something else. He was hiding something.
Christopher thought so.
"I'm the one who arranged for her to patrol the town on a motorcycle. She's a lone wolf type, like a sheriff riding into town alone. It's about putting the right person in the right place. I'm sure it's the same in the big city. That's why I assigned her to motorcycle patrol."
Half-listening to Gucci's monologue, Christopher questioned. What really happened in Silent Hill? And what was happening there now?
Shuttered shops lined both sides of the street, abandoned cars, houses with closed shutters. The unease he felt when he saw that town was becoming clear. In that town, millions of dollars' worth of property was abandoned and left behind. No matter how big the fire was, the townsfolk wouldn't have evacuated all at once. There was a significant distance between the burned buildings and those untouched by the fire. Yet they left everything they had gained, their furniture, store inventory, and cars, and left in a hurry.
Even if they had to leave quickly due to toxic gas, why was it left untouched for so long? Thirty years. There were many things that they could have done. Normally, they would have tried to recover what they left behind.
Why didn't the people ever return to that town? Were they afraid of something? And the biggest mystery of all: despite the fire making headlines, no one ever mentioned its cause. While the devastation and its aftermath were repeatedly covered in articles (even recently as a town destroyed by toxic gas), no one touched on the initial cause of the fire.
There was nothing stranger than that.
Did it violate some sort of taboo?
Thinking about this, it also made him question why Gucci was so eager to get him out of town. True, the gas was dangerous, but they had protective masks. And it wasn't immediately lethal if they took them off. There was no need to go back in such a haste.
"I haven't asked why your wife went there," Gucci said, snapping Christopher back to reality. He thought he didn't owe an explanation but decided that sharing might get some information from Gucci in return. A sort of trade. Christopher began to speak.
"Do you know about somnambulism?"
"Walking around while asleep, right?"
"Yeah, my daughter has it. She has nightmares and walks around in her sleep. During those times, she repeatedly mentioned Silent Hill. It's still in the news, so she probably saw it on TV. She would say she wanted to go there while sleeping. But I never imagined Rose would actually try to make it happen. My wife was exhausted. She believed that visiting the town Sharon saw in her dreams was the best way to cure her. It was a gut feeling, not logic. So, I can't fully explain what she was thinking."
As Gucci listened quietly, Christopher seized the moment to ask.
"What caused the fire in Silent Hill?"
Gucci glanced sideways at Christopher. The chatty country cop's expression disappeared, replaced by a somber look.
"They never found out." He muttered in a low, small voice.
"There was an investigation, though."
"By the federal and state governments. Even top brass from Troller Mine came in. Ah, the guys all dressed in sharp and crisp Armani suits."
Gucci looked at Christopher's suit as if to say he could recognize an Armani suit anywhere.
"There was one thing that became clear." He continued.
"You can't expect anything from them. A bunch of people asked all sorts of questions, but they weren't investigating what happened. They were looking for someone to blame. The state wanted the federal government to cover relocation costs. The feds wanted to find violations at the mine to levy hefty fines. Troller declared bankruptcy in the midst of it all. Not a single person cared about the people. Thousands of pages of reports were written. You can read them if you want. They're perfect for bedtime reading. They'll put you to sleep in no time."
What happened in the end?" Christopher asked.
"In the end... some died, and some lived," Gucci replied. "And those that lived will eventually die. Everyone will die without ever really knowing what happened in Silent Hill."
The car had returned to the bridge without Christopher even realizing it. Gucci braked and turned off the engine.
"That’s your car over there, right?" he said, signaling for Christopher to get out.
Reluctantly, Christopher stepped out of the car and started running through the continuing rain. Three uniformed officers were still standing by the fallen chain-link fence.
Gucci called out from behind him, "Don’t do anything rash, Chris. There are guards here all night. We’ll find your wife. We’ll find your daughter. Trust us."
Christopher got into his own car, slamming the door shut. He rolled down the window and asked, "What really happened in Silent Hill?"
Gucci shrugged. "Some things are better left alone, Chris."
Christopher sped off aggressively. He made a vow to himself, and to Rose: legal or not, he would do whatever it takes. No matter the cost, he would bring his wife and daughter home.
Rose and Cybil were searching for a hotel, walking through the foggy, ghostly town. Despite the eerie atmosphere, the town was simply a ghost town.
"What the fuck is going on here?" Cybil muttered. "What exactly..." she trailed off.
"It's hard to wrap your head around it," Rose said.
"Hard?" Cybil scoffed. "With thirty-centimeter cockroaches and monsters spewing acid from their chests, it's impossible to even wrap my head around it."
"But there is a pattern. Those creatures only come out during specific periods when the darkness takes over. If we can just get through those times, we'll be okay. As long as we act quick, we'll be okay. And I've always been a smart kid," Rose said.
"Is that a boast?" Cybil smirked.
"Yes, It's my only boast," Rose replied, grateful to have an ally in this search. This gruff police officer seemed to believe Rose was telling the truth. Rose had shown Cybil the copper plate they found in the mouth of the man named Colin at the school. The plate had faint writing indicating it was from a hotel. Rose explained that she believed Sharon was there or that someone had left the next clue there. Rose couldn't explain why, but she felt certain of it. She knew it sounded like the ramblings of a crazy woman, but Cybil didn't question why she thought Sharon was there. She simply said:
"Well, you would know best. She's your daughter after all"
And then added:
"At least in a hotel, the doors have locks. Your daughter is smart."
Those words were a huge comfort to Rose. Cybil kept her gun ready, scanning their surroundings. She was committed to protect Rose despite the dire situation.
Silent Hill wasn't a large town. The hotels were likely clustered on the main street in the town center, Rose thought. She recalled seeing one when they were looking for the school, a sturdy four- or five-story building. Sharon must be there, or at least someone must have left another clue there. Rose was convinced everything was a message. From one place to another, there were always paths left behind. If she didn't misinterpret them, she would find Sharon.
Why were they being led around the town? Rose didn't know yet. But it was best not to think too far ahead. The darkness, which Cybil called the "eclipse," would eventually come again. That was inevitable. But it was a matter for when the time comes. There was no use in worrying and being fearful. They had to move forward, to wherever they could. Rose was determined, surprised at her own resilience. All she could do now was pray. Pray that her daughter was safe and that whoever might be guiding her to her daughter would be kind to Sharon.
But in this town, with its stinging ash and strange fog that obscured visibility, there seemed to be no room for kindness, only mercilessness.
"I've heard stories that the place is haunted," Cybil said as she walked beside Rose. "I guess they were righ—oh, there it is."
Cybil pointed to a familiar building, the hotel they had passed while heading to the school. A five-story brick building with most of its large windows shattered, possibly from the fire thirty years ago. The sign on the roof read "Grand Hotel."
Rose looked at the copper plate in her hand. It read "—and Hotel."
With Cybil, Rose ran toward the front entrance. They might find Sharon here. They would find her, hold her tight, and take her home. Suddenly, a voice came from the fog.
"Help! Stop! Go away!"
It was a young woman's voice coming from inside the hotel. Rose and Cybil hurried. The front entrance was boarded up with plywood.
"This way," Rose said, spotting a pair of double doors wide open. Cybil led the way, gun drawn.
They entered a large lobby. Before the fire, it must have been luxurious. Shops lined both sides, selling clothes, antiques, and imported foods—all high-end items left behind in the hasty evacuation. This opulent hotel seemed out of place in a small town like Silent Hill, Rose thought. Perhaps during the coal mining boom, the hotel had been built for mining executives and wealthy investors.
Now, the wallpaper was peeling, half the floor was covered in debris, and the other half was full of holes. Large windows let in the foggy daylight, but it wasn't enough to fully illuminate the room. Something seemed to be sucking away the light. Cybil noticed two sets of fresh footprints in the dust on the floor. She spotted someone beyond the lobby and ran. Rose followed. They found a red-haired woman in dirty clothes, muttering to herself while holding a stick.
"Stay away, sinner!" The woman shouted at Rose and Cybil with her back turned. The voice they heard from the hotel seemed to be hers. Though her voice was young, she didn't appear as young up close.
As they approached, they saw the woman beating someone with a stick. In the dim corner of the room, a figure was cowering. The woman was holding something in her right hand and repeatedly striking with the stick in her left.
"Hey! What are you doing? Stop!" Cybil grabbed the woman's arm, and Rose quickly grabbed her other arm. They glanced at the figure cowering on the floor.
Could it be Sharon? But no, it wasn't. The person on the floor wasn't a girl. It was a tall, thin, middle-aged woman. Rose recognized her—it was the same woman who had tried to push her off the cliff. Her hair was tangled and matted like clay. She slowly stood up.
"Think you of they who cast the first stone," the woman rasped, then backed away. Suddenly, she turned to the woman Rose and Cybil were holding and said, "It's sins which hold you here."
"Shut your lies!" the restrained woman yelled.
The thin woman turned and ran, her long coat flapping behind her. The remaining woman struggled desperately to free herself from Rose and Cybil's grasp.
"Calm down," Cybil said. "We're not going to hurt you. I'm a police officer, see? The uniform."
The woman looked at Cybil with a face that seemed ready to bite.
"It's okay now. That woman is gone," Rose reassured her.
"Okay, I understand. I'll stop. Let me go," the woman said.
They released their hold on her.
"What's your name?" Cybil asked.
"Anna. My name is... Anna."
Anna was petite and frail, with a voice that seemed youthful—like a teenager's—but up close, she was not as young as she seemed. Her gaunt cheeks and the wrinkles around her eyes suggested she was about Rose's age. Anna wore a gray uniform-like garment, made of coarse handwoven fabric reminiscent of old Catholic school uniforms.
It was filthy and smelled terrible. Anna herself was covered in grime, and her bright red hair was greasy and matted. Given her age, Anna must have been born either just before or just after the coal mine fire. She must have lived in this town ever since. No wonder she was so dirty and wild, like a feral animal, Rose thought.
"Tell us, Anna. What were you doing?" Cybil gestured with her chin towards the direction the thin woman had run off to. "Who was she?"
"I've met her before," Rose said. "She didn't seem very... coherent at the time."
"That's Dahlia. She's been cast out. Not even the 'darkness' want her," Anna said, crawling to the backpack on the floor. Around her were scattered canned food and household items. It seemed Anna and Dahlia had been fighting over these cans. They must have been scavenging the town for survival.
Rose remembered what Dahlia had said by the cliff.
"She also lost her daughter," Rose told Cybil. "She mentioned it when we met before."
"She's a sinner, so it's only natural sinners lose their spawn," Anna said, stuffing the collected items into her backpack. Her bony elbows twitched with each movement.
"What were you doing here, Anna?" Rose asked.
Anna held up a can. "My mother needs more food," she said in a frightened voice, as if she thought Rose was criticizing her.
"You mean, there are other people living here? Besides you and your mother?" Cybil asked.
"Christabella keeps us safe," Anna said, hugging the can to her chest as if she feared Cybil might snatch it away. "We all take refuge in the church when the time comes."
Cybil looked at Rose, silently asking if she understood what Anna was saying. Rose shook her head.
"Actually, it's forbidden to go upstairs in the hotel. We're not supposed to leave for the First Church," Anna added.
Rose's intuition when she met Dahlia was correct. There are inhabitants here. They must be fighting those terrifying monsters from the nightmares every day. That group—Anna's companions led by someone named Christabella—cast out Dahlia, branding her a sinner. Could Sharon be hiding with that group?
"Hey," Rose called out.
Anna looked up at her with a face like a frightened child. Rose spoke in a gentle voice, as if addressing her own daughter.
"I'm looking for my daughter. She's wandering somewhere alone in this town. You can understand how terrifying that is, can't you? Have you seen her anywhere? A girl about this tall?" Rose placed her hand at her chest level.
Anna shook her head, seemingly uninterested. Then she grabbed the remaining cans and stuffed them into her backpack. There was an old meat cleaver among the items. Rose quickly took it before Anna could.
"I'll be taking this," Rose said. She wanted something to protect herself with, and she also thought it was too dangerous to let this woman have a weapon.
Anna showed a brief flash of displeasure and said, "Outsiders are just toys for them. I like watching them play." Anna giggled. Neither Rose nor Cybil understood why.
Rose noticed a strange doodle on the floor near the woman. "Have you seen this before?" she asked Cybil. It was four crosses extending from a circle. Cybil shook her head.
"I've seen same pattern at the school," Rose said.
"It's on everything the elders of my elders built," Anna said. "It's a symbol of our unity, a sign of our faith."
"Very devout," Cybil commented. Anna, no longer listening, continued packing. Cybil kept talking. "I'm not saying faith is bad, but fanatics often speak of virtues while being narrow-minded. They praise tolerance yet constantly judge each other, calling each other infidels, like you did to Dahlia. Though, Dahlia might not be any different."
Rose was surprised by Cybil's sudden harshness. Seeing Rose's reaction, Cybil added, "I respect human laws over divine ones. People have the right to a proper trial before being judged by faith."
Cybil headed to the front desk, went behind the counter, and started searching. She quickly called Rose over.
"Look, It's the same as the one you had," Cybil said, pointing to numerous copper plates scattered on the floor. They were like the one Rose had taken from the mouth of the man with a broken spine.
"These seem to be..." Rose examined one, "attached to room keys."
Looking up, she saw a key rack on the wall and began inspecting it.
"There," Rose said, finding a folded white paper.
"Look," Rose unfolded it and showed it to Cybil. It was a disturbing drawing by a child. A black-haired girl in a blue-striped blouse stood in yellow flames, her face twisted in fear. Birds flew in the blue sky above, and several black figures watched the burning girl.
"Maybe it's a game," Cybil suggested. "These copper plates and this paper. The person who kidnapped Sharon might be leaving clues as part of their game." After a moment of thought, Cybil asked, "Which room was this in?"
Rose checked the key rack again. "Here," she pointed to Room 111.
Folding the drawing back, Cybil said, "Then we should check out that room."
The rain continued to pour heavily, showing no signs of stopping. Christopher wondered if it would keep raining until it washed away all the sinners. He stood across from the Brahms County Records Office, staring at the old brick building where two windows on the lower floor were still lit. It was now completely dark outside. Christopher hadn’t slept much for the past two days. He had driven all night from West Virginia, arriving in town at dawn.
Was that really this morning? He had refueled and downed five or six cups of coffee at a diner frequented by long-haul truck drivers. Then he had looked up the number for the Toluca County Records Office and called them on his cell phone. The rain was so loud that he had to strain to hear the woman on the other end.
"Do you have any records on Silent Hill?" he asked.
"Yes, we do." The woman answered curtly.
"Police records as well?"
The woman fell silent. Christopher waited, listening intently. After a long pause, she started making excuses, saying that a permit was needed to access those records, which required the police chief’s signature, and obtaining that would take some time…
"I don’t have time for that. This is an emergency!" he insisted. The line went dead with a click.
It was a strange response. Why did everyone in this town act so secretive?
He had been waiting here, watching for the last light in the office to go out. Finally, one light turned off. Soon after, the second one went out as well. Shortly, the front door opened, and a woman with a red umbrella locked the door behind her. Christopher waited until she went around the corner and was out of sight.
Fortunately, there were hardly any cars on the street, no pedestrians, and no open shops. He crossed the rainy street and headed for the side door of the records office. He had scouted this door hours earlier. It had a glass upper half with a simple latch on the inside. Christopher broke the glass with his elbow, his thick coat protecting his arm. He reached through the broken glass and unlocked the latch. He opened the door slowly and deliberately.
If there was an alarm, it would be over. But luck was on Christopher’s side; no alarm sounded. He climbed the narrow stairs without incident. The second floor was filled with small rooms lined with boxes of documents and files. He searched for a shelf that might have relevant documents, passing through the reading room, which had a sign stating “Staff Only” and “Confidential.” Though the sign was imposing, the contents were not interesting.
Then he found it.
Among the well-organized shelves, only one was carelessly stacked. He opened the door and turned on the fluorescent light. Inside the boxes were water-damaged documents and charred files. The labels on the boxes read "Silent Hill." It was unclear if this was everything, but it was at least part of it.
Boxes filled with such items lined the shelves on both sides. They looked like they had been salvaged from a burning building, thrown into a truck, and brought here along a bumpy mountain road. Perhaps that was exactly what had happened. They had been left here, untouched and forgotten. No one wanted to know about them, let alone touch them.
Christopher quickly scanned the labels: school records, council records, library, parks department… And then he found what he was looking for: Silent Hill Police Department records, divided into several boxes. He took two of them and returned to the reading room. To avoid being seen, he didn’t turn on the overhead light. The small fluorescent light in the storage room was enough to read by.
He went through the documents: petty crimes in Silent Hill, break-ins, domestic disputes, a bar fight where someone got stabbed, a drowning in Toluca Lake… Nothing useful. These were all from years before the fire. Christopher started on the most recent file. Shoplifting, hunting accidents, a woman criticizing the mayor for opening shops on Sundays for tourists…
Tourists in Silent Hill? Christopher skimmed the report and understood. The mayor owned a restaurant, and the woman felt the mayor was using his public position for personal gain (likely with good reasons). He set the document aside. No time to waste on irrelevant details. He returned to the small room for another box. He had already spent a considerable amount of time here and needed to hurry.
He tossed aside the lid of the cardboard box and pulled out more documents. One name caught his eye.
Case #5612: A. Gillespie - Filed by T. Gucci
That inspector. Before the fire, he was a police officer in Silent Hill. Why did he keep that a secret? In all his long-winded talking, there wasn't a hint of this. Was this what he tried to conceal with his loquacity?
Christopher opened the thick file and found a handwritten report on a horrific incident. It was a report about the girl. Before the fire, a missing persons report had been filed by her mother. The girl was later rescued from the fire. Apparently, it was Gucci the one who saved her and this report was written by him.
The girl barely survived but had severe burns. "Third-degree burns," the document stated. If Christopher's memory was correct, first-degree burns cause redness, second-degree burns cause blisters, and third-degree burns char the deep layers of skin, creating deep wounds. It's the worst type of burn. Thinking about the girl pained him.
Gucci had written that he knew this girl "personally." The end of the report seemed deliberately erased. Gucci had removed something. There were several monochrome photographs inserted. The first was of a room burned and destroyed by fire. Then there was a picture of children going on a school trip. The edges were charred. Was it taken from the fire scene?
For what purpose?
Christopher saw a school bus with over twenty girls in old-fashioned uniforms. He couldn't see the connection between Gucci's case and this, so he looked at the next photo. Christopher stared at it, stunned. It was a large monochrome photo. To anyone else, it might seem as meaningless as the field trip photo.
There was a girl in it.
In the old, thirty-year-old photo rescued from the fire, the girl looked exactly like Sharon. He might believe it if someone said they were the same person. The shape of the mouth was only slightly different, but he could tell. The structure of the face and the impression it gave were astonishingly similar to Sharon. The girl was wearing the same uniform the students wore in the field trip photo. Christopher went back to the school bus photo. He hadn’t noticed before, but the same girl was standing at the bus entrance.
The girl's name was written in white ink above the large photo.
Alessa Gillespie. So this was the girl Gucci rescued from the fire. That's why the photo was inserted. Alessa, the girl with third-degree burns. The girl saved by Gucci. She must have survived.
And then... she gave birth to Sharon. Christopher thought. Otherwise, there was no way to explain this uncanny resemblance. Without the time gap, he would have thought they were twins.
What exactly happened? The girl was saved and grew up to have a baby. But the aftermath of third-degree burns made it difficult to raise a child. She abandoned the girl at the orphanage. The girl fell into the hands of social services and became our adopted daughter. Our family's happiness was built on the misery of Alessa Gillespie.
Assuming this is true. But even so, how did Sharon find out her birth mother was from Silent Hill?
Did Gillespie trace us and call? And Sharon happened to answer the phone? Sharon knows she is adopted. But if her birth mother suddenly called, it must have hurt and disturbed her deeply. She blocked the phone call from her mind, but the name remained deep in her heart. If so, it explains the nightmares.
Wait, don't jump to conclusions. Christopher told himself. This is just like Rose taking that outrageous step of bringing Sharon here. The basis for these thoughts is only this series of old photos. Anyone else might call it a delusion.
But he knew where he could get more information, if he had the courage to ask. He took out his cell phone and called directory assistance. He tried to steady his voice as he asked:
"I need the number for Toluca County Orphanage."
As the operator found the number, Christopher turned over the monochrome photo. There was a typed label on the back.
"Do you have the address?"
While the operator searched, Christopher read the girl's name and the file title again.
Alessa Gillespie. The incident occurred on November 1, 1974. Ah, the fire broke out that night. All Saints' Day, Christopher remembered. The report date was November 11, ten days later. Probably because the fire required to evacuate the residents immediately, so there was no time to write the report.
Under "Type of Crime," it said:
"Kidnapping and Assault."
The girl was only nine years old. The same age as Sharon now. "Incident Location" was Room 111 of the Grand Hotel. After getting the orphanage's address from the operator, Christopher thanked her, hung up, and sat for a moment with his head in his hands, thinking about the disaster that had befallen a girl the same age as his daughter.
107. 108.
Cybil's flashlight illuminated the room numbers one by one. Anna followed behind the two of them. Cybil seemed to be annoyed with her, but Rose considered her to be an important asset. As her flashlight illuminated the number 109, Rose's heart began to pound. Was Sharon really close by? Or was this game still ongoing? They passed room 110, turned the corner, and shone the light on the next door… Cybil's face turned puzzled. The door's number read 112.
"There's no room 111," said Cybil.
But Rose's eyes were drawn to a large oil painting hanging on the wall.
"The first burning," Anna said from behind.
"What did you say?" Rose asked.
"The first burning. Before this town had a name. The elders of the elders protected us," Anna explained.
Rose and Cybil exchanged glances. Do you think this is a clue? Cybil’s eyes seemed to ask. Rose turned her gaze back to the oil painting. It depicted a young woman being burned at the stake, with people in blue clothing watching expressionlessly. In stark contrast to the contorted face of the young woman in agony, they used a stake, not a cross, for the execution.
Rose suddenly remembered the children's drawing Cybil had found on the key shelf. It was drawn with the same chaotic black lines and primary colors that Sharon had used to scribble over a picture. It was a child's view of this painting, showing a woman being burned alive and shadowy figures watching. The article Rose had researched on the website detailed the history of Silent Hill, dating back to when immigrants first arrived on this continent. Puritans settled in New England, German immigrants in New York. Among these people, those with particularly extreme beliefs separated and settled in the hills of West Virginia.
"The founders of this town were fanatics," Rose said to Cybil. "Maybe this kind of thing went on until quite recently." Rose traced the painting with her finger. "It must be here."
She took out the knife she had hidden in her boot and, without hesitation, slashed at the painting. Anna's eyes widened, and she pressed her fists to her lips to stifle a scream, but no one noticed.
The canvas tore, paint flakes falling like dandruff. She slashed again and again. Through the mutilated painting, there was a door with the number 111. Rose reached for the knob. It wasn't locked. She opened the door and entered the room. The stench of dust, mold, and a stronger smell of burning filled her nose. Rose covered her mouth and nose with her hand. Cybil's flashlight illuminated the room.
It was badly wrecked. Even a drunken party would not have caused this much destruction. The striped wallpaper was torn to shreds, as if attacked by a horde of nervous cats. The chandelier had fallen onto the bed, scattering broken glass everywhere.
And Sharon wasn't there.
This wasn’t the place after all. Rose's shoulders slumped, and Cybil stood behind her, shining the flashlight around the room. There was a large hole in the wall, leading to the neighboring building. The window was wide open, almost invitingly.
"Maybe that’s the next clue," Cybil said. "Let's check it out."
The gap between the buildings was small, easily crossed with a step. Cybil jumped effortlessly into the neighboring window and extended her hand. "Watch your step," she said. Rose focused straight ahead and leaped. She landed without any trouble. Anna jumped next, also safely reaching the neighboring building. This building was equally destroyed. Old machines and furniture were piled against the walls of the large floor.
"What was this place?" Rose wondered aloud.
Cybil shone her light around and said, "Maybe a factory."
The ceiling was two stories high. This wasn’t an original design but a result of the upper floor collapsing. Exposed beams and broken concrete revealed the steel framework.
"There was a fire here too," Rose said, looking up.
Cybil aimed her light where Rose was looking. Long hair swayed, and they saw a blue uniform.
That girl.
"Wait!" Rose shouted, running across the room. Among the machines and shattered concrete, large rolls of cloth lay. Maybe this was a textile factory. She leaped over everything in her path, running as if it's an obstacle course. She saw a sturdy iron staircase ahead and ran up the stairs, clanging as she went. At the top, she found a stage in the middle of the floor, draped in purple curtains. It looked like an old theater or altar. The banners on the walls had Latin inscriptions. Rose recognized the word "Deus" meaning "God."
In the corner of the room, broken benches and unrecognizable chairs were piled up. It might have been used for religious gatherings or worship. The center stage’s floor was missing, opening into a pit that seemed to descend to hell. Looking down made her dizzy. Far below, in the darkness, fires were burning. There must have been a major fire. The building’s floor had burned away entirely, likely extending down to the tunnels running beneath the town. In the center of the room was a large iron ring hanging from chains. It was unclear what it was used for, but it bore religious symbols.
A sobbing sound echoed. Although it was hard to see clearly, someone was crouched beyond the hole. Several beams remained across the gap. By crossing them one by one, it seemed possible to reach the other side.
"Wait. I’m coming," Rose said, drawn by the crying voice.
She stepped onto the first beam, which creaked under her weight. The sobbing continued.
"It’s okay. Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you. I promise," Rose called out.
She crossed the first beam and leapt to the next. The beam wobbled. Far below, flames glowed red. Don’t look down, Rose told herself. She eyed the next beam, thin and swaying in the wind. It didn’t look sturdy enough to support her weight but she jumped.
Her foot landed but the beam dangerously shifted. She lost her balance and her foot slipped off the beam.
She was falling! Her outstretched hand grabbed the beam just in time. She clung there, terror threatening to overwhelm her.
"Rose?" Cybil’s voice called. But Rose was too frightened to respond. She summoned all her strength to pull herself up, first her elbow, then her whole body onto the beam. She lay there, breathing heavily. If not for the crying, she might have been paralyzed with fear. She had already crossed more than half the gap and the crying grew louder.
"I'm almost there. Hold on," she encouraged herself.
She stood and made the final leap to the other side. There was a small section of floor left by the wall. A girl was crouched there, her back to Rose, sobbing uncontrollably. A girl in a blue uniform, with long hair. Rose crouched beside her.
"It’s okay. Don’t cry. I’m here to help you," she said gently.
The girl turned. Rose saw her tear-streaked face. She couldn't believe it. The girl looked exactly like Sharon. The straight eyebrows, the gray eyes, the small nose, the gentle mouth. It was like looking at a twin.
"Are you Alessa? Do you know where my Sharon is?" Rose asked.
The girl stood up. The floor beneath them began to crumble.
"Look at me! I’m burning!" The girl raised her arms, her face serious.
Her arms burst into flames with a small explosion. Rose screamed. The fire enveloped the girl and then spread to the purple curtain behind her. Everything was consumed in white-hot flames. Rose covered her face from the brightness and heat. When she looked again, the flames and the girl were gone.
The floor was collapsing with a creak.
"Rose!" Cybil shouted.
She was holding what looked like a thick cable, probably from the wiring. It was connected to the ceiling.
"Grab this!" Cybil threw the cable.
Rose grabbed it.
"Alright! Hold on and swing over here," Cybil instructed.
"Swing?" Rose saw the drop to the bottom. The beam she had crossed earlier was tilted dangerously and wouldn’t support her weight again.
"Think of yourself as Tarzan," Cybil said.
Rose took a deep breath and pushed off the floor. With a roar, the floor fell. Before it could be swallowed by the flames below, Rose swung to the other side. Cybil caught and pulled her in. They collapsed to the floor together.
"You okay?" Cybil asked.
"Yeah," Rose replied, standing up a bit shakily.
Cybil exhaled deeply. "What the hell were you doing over there? You almost got yourself killed."
"I saw Dahlia’s daughter. It’s her who has been guiding us here," Rose explained.
"What are you talking about?" Cybil was confused.
"It was her, Alessa, who guided me from the moment I had that car accident," Rose said.
Anna, her red hair disheveled, said, "Don’t say her name!"
She knelt, her eyes fixed on the iron ring, as if looking at a crucifix in a church. At that moment, the sound of flapping wings echoed. Birds flew in from somewhere, their wings making a commotion.
"We need to get out of here!" Anna screamed. "Quickly! Now!" She started running but Rose and Cybil can only stared after her in surprise. Anna screamed, "The darkness is coming!"
At these words, Rose and Cybil hurriedly followed Anna.
"Hurry, hurry!" Anna shouted as she ran ahead. The three of them raced through the hotel lobby. "Come on, faster!" Anna urged.
The birds were a warning of the approaching darkness. Rose realized this as she ran. The miners must have carried birds to protect themselves from the darkness. Hopefully, Sharon had found some way to protect herself too. The three of them burst out of the hotel.
"Hurry, to the church!" Anna commanded. "Run!"
Birds flew overhead, in the same direction they were running, as if in panic. Rose, Cybil, and Anna ran desperately through the foggy streets, heading towards the cemetery. The fog grew thicker, obscuring their vision. They ran, using the withered trees and tall crosses as landmarks. Finally, the sirens began to wail, heightening their sense of urgency.
Hurry! Run! Go! Or death will catch you!
The sound of the sirens pounded in Rose's head.
"Hurry!" Anna's voice was almost a scream.
At last, the church at the top of the hill came into view. They dashed up the steps. Rose looked up at the church emerging from the fog and stopped in her tracks, stunned. The church looked exactly like the one Sharon had drawn, with Gothic-style windows and brickwork, and the four crosses arranged in a circle on the roof, even down to the black birds.
Sharon, are you telling me to go in? Or to stay out?
"Rose!" Cybil noticed Rose had stopped and ran back to grab her arm. "Come on!"
Anna was already waiting at the top of the stairs, still playing her role as a guide despite her fear.
"Let's go!" Cybil pulled Rose along.
Rose glanced back.
People were emerging from the fog, running up the stairs. They wore the same old-fashioned gray clothes as Anna. Dozens of them, men and women, but no young people, all older than Anna. The ragged crowd pushed past Rose, scrambling up the stairs. She and Cybil were swept along by the throng of people. The first person reached the church, and the enormous doors opened. The crowd surged inside like dust being sucked into a vacuum.
A voice called out. It was Dahlia, descending the stairs as the others ascended.
"You run not towards sanctuary but from your fears," Dahlia cried, trying to touch the people rushing past. "Justifying your sins?"
The crowd parted around her like a river around an island.
"Do not join the others," she said hoarsely, approaching Rose. "They're decievers. They'll all burn in hell." She grabbed Rose's hand.
"I'm going inside!" Rose said, trying to shake her off.
"No!" Dahlia shouted desperately. "They brought about their own hell. They'll take you with them!"
Suddenly, Dahlia staggered, a large stone hitting her forehead. She released Rose and fell to the stairs, groaning. Rose looked up to see Anna, glaring angrily.
"Flith and Lies!" Anna spat.
"Stop it!" Rose commanded.
Anna glared at Dahlia. Rose knelt beside the fallen woman. The last of the gray-clad crowd disappeared into the church. Cybil remained, watching. Anna picked up a piece of broken concrete. Turning her back on Anna, Rose shielded Dahlia.
"Please, i saw your daughter. Alessa," Rose said.
Dahlia remained silent, looking down.
"She is dead, isn't she?" Rose asked.
Dahlia looked up at Rose with sad, old eyes. "Fire doesn’t cleanse. It only leaves blackened ashes, a miserable end."
"It's coming!" Cybil shouted, running towards Rose.
Rose grabbed Dahlia's shoulders. "Alessa looks just like Sharon. Did she bring us here?"
"Rose! Hurry!" Cybil called again.
"Why? For what purpose? What does Alessa want?" Rose asked quickly.
Dahlia looked at her with pity. "Evil wakes in vengeance. Be careful what you choose."
The darkness began to consume the world, as if ink had been spilled into the fog. The air disintegrated, revealing a rusty, decayed landscape.
The darkness had begun.
Cybil grabbed Rose's arm, pulling her towards the church.
"Wait, what about Dahlia?" Rose asked.
Cybil shook her head. "We can't take her."
They raced up the crumbling stairs, pieces of the world falling away around them, turning to ash. As they ran, they passed Anna, who was picking up another rock.
"Damn it!" Cybil cursed. "Rose, you go on ahead!"
She started after Anna and saw it. A hulking figure with a pyramid-shaped head grabbed Anna. It was shockingly efficient. The creature peeled Anna's skin off more easily than undressing a doll and her screams was cut short. The man twisted Anna's neck with one hand. Her head snapped to an impossible angle, and she went silent. Then, with a sickening, wet sound, her skin was peeled off from head to toe in one swift motion.
"Oh my god..." Rose whispered in horror.
The pyramid-headed man turned towards Rose.
"Let's go," Cybil said, rushing back to grab Rose's hand. She held on tight, painfully tight, and they ran.
The man began to ascend the stairs slowly. The doors were closing. Rose and Cybil slipped through the narrowing gap just in time. A wet, smacking sound echoed behind them. Blood splattered, leaving red spots on their clothes. The man had thrown Anna's flayed skin.
The doors shut immediately after.
The two of them stood in the foul stench of blood. They used handkerchiefs to wipe their blood-splattered faces. One can never get used to such brutal deaths. Fifty or so people in monochrome clothing were staring at Rose and Cybil. They must be the congregation, gathered here believing it to be safe. Anna had said this place was safe, and she was probably right. The vicious pyramid-headed man hadn’t been able to break through the doors. This church was one of the rare buildings in Silent Hill that remained intact.
The polished wooden walls, stone floors and columns, high ceilings with chandeliers and candles glittering—all indicated this place had not been touched by the darkness. The monsters couldn’t get inside. A sturdy church built over centuries; perhaps this truly was divine protection.
Yet Rose couldn't fully trust it. The eyes of the congregation watching them held no kindness. Rose sensed the same malice and hatred here that she felt outside in the darkness. She recalled Dahlia's warning to avoid the church people. “They're decievers. They'll all burn in hell,” Dahlia had said. “They brought about their own hell. They'll take you with them!”
But Rose couldn’t entirely trust Dahlia either. She had tried to steal the locket and push Rose into an endless abyss, whatever her reasons.
“Witch!” A woman screamed.
Rose stopped in her tracks. A scrawny woman, wearing a dirty lace veil, pointed at Rose and Cybil.
"Witches."
The word rippled through the congregation, growing louder and more hostile. Everyone pointed at them.
“Witches!”
“Witches!”
“Cast them out!”
“Expel the devil wenches!”
People surged towards Rose, their faces twisted in anger. Hands reached out, grabbing her arms, shoulders. Someone grabbed the locket. She was tripped, pushed. Rose fell, landing on her backside. The crowd piled on, chanting like a spell, “Cast them out, cast them out, cast them out,” faces contorted, shouting “Witches, witches.”
Rose curled up, trembling in fear. She couldn’t make sense of the sudden quiet.
“Get away from her!” It was Cybil's voice.
The crowd parted. Cybil emerged, holding her gun. Rose realized that the earlier noise was a gunshot.
“This is a sanctuary,” a woman's clear voice echoed in the now quiet church. The congregation slowly rose, stepping aside to clear a path.
A beautiful, pale woman stepped forward. She was much older than Rose and Cybil, probably closer to Dahlia’s age. Her brown hair was tied up neatly, and her intelligent eyes regarded them with a stern expression. She wore a blue outfit similar to the Midwich Elementary School uniform, and four men stood behind her.
Suddenly, there was crying. A pitiful, wrenching sob.
Everyone turned to look. The woman who first called them witches, wearing a tattered brown lace veil, walked forward, hands clasped in supplication, head bowed.
“Please, Christabella,” she pleaded through her tears, “those two lured my Anna to her death, gave her to the fiend.”
So that’s it, Rose thought. Her heart ached. She must be Anna’s mother, having witnessed her brutal death. Christabella smiled kindly, taking the woman’s trembling hands in hers. Anna had said Christabella was the leader and protector of the congregation.
“Eleanor,” Christabella addressed the woman. “We must also remember that your daughter went against our laws. Anna went outside into the devil’s playground on her own. These two are not to blame.”
Anna’s mother collapsed against Christabella, sobbing. Christabella embraced her, looking over her head at Rose and Cybil with an intense gaze. More than a gaze—it was a glare. It was a powerful, knowing look. She is a charismatic leader, Rose thought. The congregation would do anything she commanded.
“We will deal with them later,” Christabella declared.
Christabella stared intently at Rose and Sybil as she spoke. Then, she gently lifted Anna's mother’s chin with her fingers, looking into her eyes. The look in her eyes said, “Calm down.” The mother hiccupped like a child a few times before quieting. Christabella smiled and looked at the congregation.
“Now, let us pray,” she said.
Supporting Anna's mother, Christabella led the congregation deeper into the nave. Rose noticed that this place resembled the altar they had seen in the factory. The congregation took their seats. The four men who had accompanied Christabella followed her and knelt in prayer. Around them, candles were lit, casting a mystical light. The floor was inlaid with symbols, the familiar emblem of their faith: a circle surrounded by four crosses, drawn in crimson stone.
Christabella began to pray before the congregation.
"And then, I saw them from those who were forsaken, Earth and Heaven fled away."
"I saw them from those who were forsaken," the congregation echoed.
Rose glanced at Sybil, who seemed restless, like a child sulking after being dragged to church.
"And I saw the dead,” Christabella intoned. “the great and the small, and they were judged according to their deeds."
"Judged according to their deeds," the congregation repeated.
Rose looked up at the rafters, noticing the birds perched there. The ceremony felt meaningless to her, probably because it seemed to be for Christabella, not for any deity. That made it hard to take it seriously. Cybil, too, was looking around uneasily, seemingly repelled by the ritual.
Behind Christabella was a large painting. It was the same "First Burning at the Stake" painting Rose had seen in the hotel. The shabby gray-clad congregation looked just like the black shadows depicted in that painting—zealots of a witch hunt, people who used hatred to sustain themselves by purging heretics. Had that intolerance and hatred truly been left in the past? It was nearly certain that these believers had inflicted terrible suffering on Alessa. That was why Dahlia and Alessa herself bore such resentment toward them. Even now, the believers continued to fear and hate witches.
A cycle of hatred, violence, and vengeance perpetuated over decades, if not centuries. As Rose pondered this, she wondered: Did Alessa really die in the coal mine fire? Or did the witch hunters start that fire?
"And the darkness within the dead abandoned them, and the death and hell within the dead abandoned them. And they too were judged according to their deeds."
“It seems,” Cybil remarked, “this place has been judged as well.”
Christabella shot Cybil a glare. Did she hear that? The congregation remained oblivious, repeating Christabella’s words.
“Judged according to their deeds.”
“And anyone's name not found written in the Book of Life, they will be thrown into the lake of fire,” Christabella said, still glaring at Cybil.
Above Christabella’s head was a window. Light shone through it, weak and shrouded in mist, but it was unmistakably light. Christabella finished her prayer.
The darkness had passed.
Christabella released her tightly clasped hands. The congregation seemed exhausted, but they had survived once more. Rose thought back to encountering the darkness outside, in the devil’s playground. It had seemed like an endless nightmare. Yet here, it had passed quickly.
Now was the time to search for Sharon as Rose took a deep breath.
Rain pounded against the windows of the dormitory, streaming down the outer walls of the Toluca County Orphanage. Sister Margaret listened to the girls' prayers.
“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep…”
Sister Margaret joined the prayer silently.
“If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”
“Amen,” Sister Margaret said.
She looked with loving eyes at the twenty-four girls kneeling at the foot of their beds. Some hugged their friends tightly before climbing into their own beds. The younger children curled up like cats, trying to warm their feet. Precious daughters. Why won’t anyone adopt the older children? Sister Margaret couldn’t understand it. They were all such good, kind children.
“Now, everyone, into bed. Hurry up!” she clapped her hands. “There’s no cozier place than a bed on a rainy night.”
Sister Margaret patted a young girl’s head. “There, Lucy. Don’t forget your teddy bear.”
Heading towards the door, she repeated her usual refrain. “No talking after lights out.” Knowing this would be ignored, she said it cheerfully. She reached for the switch outside the room and turned off the lights.
“Good night, children. God bless you.”
Christopher stood by the hall window, watching the rain and listening to the children’s giggles. He turned at the sound of the door closing.
“I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, Sister Margaret, but it’s urgent.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Sister Margaret said, crossing her arms. When Christopher had called the Toluca County Orphanage for information, she had been the one to answer. She refused to provide any details, insisting he contact the social welfare agency that handled adoptions. The orphanage was only for caring for the children, she said, not for answering inquiries.
But Christopher had the address, so he came in person.
“Nine years ago,” Christopher began, “a baby was left on the steps of this orphanage. My wife and I adopted her.”
“That’s wonderful, Mr. Da Silva,” Sister Margaret replied, passing him with arms still crossed. “But I cannot provide any information about the children.”
Christopher quickly followed, blocking her path. “Look at this,” he said, trying to pull out a photograph of a girl named Gillespie he had found in the records. His cold, trembling hands fumbled to unfold the small, worn picture from his bag. Finally, he found it and showed it to her. “This girl looks just like my daughter.”
He looked at her with hope. Sister Margaret's face showed shock, as if she had been struck. But it was only for a moment. She regained her composure and shook her head.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” she said, starting to walk away. “It’s late.”
“She’d be about forty now. This is an old picture, probably from thirty years ago,” Christopher persisted, walking alongside her.
Sister Margaret ignored him, hurrying toward the stairs. Christopher grabbed her arm as she began to descend.
“Where is she?” he pleaded.
Sister Margaret pushed away the photo he thrust at her and tried to escape. The large photograph slipped from his hand.
“This concerns everyone,” Christopher shouted. “You people—” He tightened his grip on her arm, not noticing her pained expression.
“What’s going on here?” a voice said, and a firm hand grabbed Christopher’s shoulder.
Christopher turned to see Officer Gucci.
“Violence won’t solve anything,” Gucci said.
Christopher released Sister Margaret’s arm. She was in tears.
“I’m sorry, but I…”
“Do you understand your situation, Chris?” Gucci asked slowly, locking eyes with him. “You’ve added assault to trespassing.”
“Thank you, Thomas,” Sister Margaret said, trying to compose herself. She wiped her tears and quickly descended the stairs.
Christopher glared at Gucci, who glared back coldly. Damn cop! He was more of a hindrance than a help. His wife and daughter were missing. Shouldn’t the police be doing everything to find them?
“How did you find me?” Christopher demanded.
“Following you is like trailing a marching band. Even a child could track you,” Gucci said, bending to pick up the fallen photograph.
“You know this girl, don’t you, Gucci? Is she my daughter’s birth mother?”
Gucci looked away.
“Is she?” Christopher insisted.
The officer slowly shook his head.
Ten minutes later, Christopher sat in the orphanage's dining hall. Gucci paced restlessly, considering how much to reveal. Sister Margaret remained in the corner, waiting for Gucci to start talking. What was the problem? Christopher couldn't understand. He had asked a simple question: Was the girl named Gillespie Sharon’s biological mother? It required a yes or no answer. If yes, he could visit her and ask about Sharon's whereabouts. If no, he would start from scratch again.
"I know the girl in this photo," Gucci finally admitted. "But I believe she’s dead. She couldn’t have survived that night—the night of the big fire in Silent Hill."
Gucci sat down across from Christopher, clasping his gloved hands together, the leather creaking.
"There was a very devout… fanatical group in that town," Gucci continued. "They did terrible things to this girl. But that was thirty years ago. It’s long over."
“It’s not over for me,” Christopher retorted.
The girl in the photo might be dead, but she must have had a family. Where were they? One of them might be Sharon's biological parent. He also wanted to know about those who abducted Alessa Gillespie. Did they cause the fire? Were they the fanatical group Gucci mentioned? Were they still in Silent Hill? And why were people still afraid to go to that town thirty years after the fire? Most importantly, why was Gucci trying to keep him away from Silent Hill?
Gucci said it was over, but Christopher didn’t believe it. He opened his mouth to argue, but Gucci cut him off, shaking his head.
“That’s enough. It’s time you went home,” Gucci glared at him. “Remember, the only reason you’re not in handcuffs is because I’m letting it slide. I can throw you in jail if I want.” He forced a smile. “Leave the search for your wife and daughter to us. We will find them.”
"Is that your definition of justice?" Christopher glared at Gucci.
“There are many forms of justice, Chris,” Gucci replied, removing his gloves and showing his scarred palms, remnants of severe burns. Perhaps from rescuing the girl?
"Man, God’s, and even the devil’s,” Gucci said, slowly clenching his fists as if the old wounds still pained him, then lowering them under the table.
Devil’s justice? What did that even mean? Christopher stared at Gucci, trying to understand.
Gucci met his gaze and said, “So, I want you to go home and sleep in your warm bed. Leave this town and what happened thirty years ago to me.”
How could he convince this man? Christopher thought.
“Alright?” Gucci added in a low voice, ending the conversation. “That’s all.”
Rose had been led to this church. The clues had been scattered, leading and guiding her here. If someone had orchestrated this, then the key to finding Sharon must be here somewhere and she was willing to do anything to uncover it. Christabella remained in the center of the room. Rose approached her and said, “I’m looking for my daughter. Can you please help me?”
There was no doubt in Rose’s mind that Christabella was somehow involved in her daughter’s disappearance. If she was respectful, maybe Christabella would assist. Rose gambled on Christabella’s religious inclination.
“Let’s discuss this upstairs,” Christabella said, walking off with four men in tow. Rose and Cybil followed, passing a massive painting of a burning at the stake and stopping in front of a plain wooden door. Latin inscriptions adorned the top of the painting, similar to those found in the factory: “In the hands of the Almighty God…”
Christabella opened the door. “Tell me first, how did you find your way here?” she asked.
Rose thought for a moment before answering, “Honestly, I don’t know. I just came to this town, and since my daughter's disappearance… I was guided to this church.”
“Who guided you?” Christabella inquired.
“Well…”
Rose’s hesitation made Christabella narrow her eyes. “Are you a person of faith?”
Truthfully, Rose despised those who flaunted their piety, using it to assert superiority and pity others. She suspected Christabella was such a person. But honesty didn’t seem like the best policy here.
“I… love my daughter.”
“And?”
“That’s all. I live for my loved ones and would do anything for them.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Christabella seemed slightly irritated.
“But without our loved ones, faith is meaningless, isn’t it?” Rose countered.
“Love without faith is barren,” Christabella replied with a serene smile. The candlelight scattered around gave her a mystical glow. The four men watched her with devout expressions. It was all a performance, a production to create the charismatic leader, Christabella. “And faith is necessary to protect those you love,” she continued.
“Are you saying that faith will help find my daughter?” Rose asked.
“Our faith keeps the Darkness of hell at bay here. You must have seen this yourself.”
Indeed, the Darkness hadn’t penetrated the church. They must possess some power. So…
“Then use your faith to help me find my little girl,” Rose pleaded.
“Your daughter cannot be found,” Christabella responded bluntly, almost gleefully. Had she taken satisfaction in besting an unbeliever?
“Is that the extent of your faith’s power?” Rose challenged.
“The only one who knows your daughter’s whereabouts is the demon. And it was your daughter who chose to consign her fate to the demon. Unless she wills it, she cannot be found.”
“Then tell me, where can I find this demon?” Rose asked.
Christabella exchanged knowing glances with the four men, a smirk playing on her lips.
"No one has ever returned from the core of the darkness where the demon lies in wait," Christabella said, her voice almost gleeful.
Cybil, unable to contain herself any longer, interjected, "This woman is a waste of time. Let's just go."
Christabella glared at Cybil with terrifying eyes, then quickly turned back to Rose with a smile.
"If you wish to face with the demon directly to find your daughter, I won't stop you."
"Christabella!" one of the men protested. "Sending them to that place is—"
"Silence, Adam," Christabella whispered, her voice low but commanding. The man immediately retreated.
Christabella stepped closer to Rose, peering into her eyes. "Perhaps your faith will protect you."
"It's only your own strength that can protect you," Cybil said.
"You saw it yourself. The Darkness couldn't enter here. That's the power of our faith."
"Alright, I see that you are very devout. And maybe that faith did repel the Darkness. But if you have that kind of power, you should use it to protect innocent people. Otherwise, it’s worthless."
"We are protecting innocent people here in the church."
"If someone doesn't share your faith, you abandon them. You just said you wouldn't save a little girl."
"We will guide you to the demon's lair."
"How kind of you. I'm sure you plan to offer us up as sacrifices to the devil."
Christabella's eyes blazed with anger.
"There, see?" Cybil sneered. "Right on the mark."
"Cybil," Rose said, shaking her head at her friend. Whatever Christabella's intentions, Rose believed they had no choice but to rely on her. Cybil understood this too but couldn't stand people like her.
"Do as you wish," Christabella said, regaining her composure. "The choice is yours."
Rose looked up at the church on the hill. From this angle, it looked like a cemetery against the blue sky. Fog flowed around her feet, making it feel like she was walking on clouds. The withered trees looked like hands reaching for the sky. She thought she probably wouldn't come here again. When she thought about it, she felt a strange sadness. This scenery seemed both beautiful and poignant. If Sharon was drawn to Silent Hill, she could understand why. There is beauty in the winter, especially if one forgets the freshness of spring. Though Rose had been here only a short time, her memories of home had already become a bit hazy. Abruptly, Rose realized this and shook her head. She tore her gaze from the church and looked ahead.
Leading the way were four men wearing old miner's work clothes and leather gas masks. They carried cages with small birds, hooks, and spiked iron pipes, all of which looked terrifying. Behind them, walking with a straight posture, was Christabella. Rose resolved once again to find Sharon and get out of here as quickly as possible. She looked at Cybil, walking beside her, and said, "If you don't wanna do this, I'll understand."
Cybil only shrugged.
Some of the believers who had come out of the church with them dispersed to their nearby homes. They lived in broken houses, with half the windows boarded up, and ash mixed with rain forming dirty clumps stuck everywhere. The houses themselves looked like clumps of mud stuck to the ground. Their miserable way of life seemed to reinforce their sense of righteousness and deepen their faith. They believed they were preventing the apocalypse from happening, a notion Christabella had instilled in them.
But that wasn't true.
They were the ones who had caused all the terrible things to happen. They were responsible for the great fire in the mines and the death of Alessa Gillespie. Dahlia had insisted they were evil. Even if that wasn't entirely true, they certainly weren't as good as they believed themselves to be. As she thought this, Rose realized she was also drawn to the life here, to the sad beauty of the ruins, like a winter landscape. That was the scariest thing of all for her.
We have to get out of here. Find Sharon and get out of here.
Christabella was heading towards a building that used to be the county hospital. It was a grand building made of limestone. Although the windows were dirty, not a single pane of glass was broken. Considering the state of the rest of the town, this was strange. The men climbed the steps to the entrance first. Following them, Rose saw a narrow lobby with peeling white paint and laundry carts left as they were. The hallway twisted like a snake, turning past what seemed to be the reception area.
The four men at the front illuminated every corner with their flashlights. Christabella walked in the light with a leisurely stride. She was cautious but didn't seem very frightened.
"Quiet," she said to Rose. "This is the devil's domain."
Rose neither saw nor felt anything. Christabella led her to a place where a map was displayed.
Next to the elevator was a map labeled "Brookhaven Hospital." It showed six long floors with shorter wings at each end, roughly in the shape of an "H."
"Study this map carefully. Do you see this room?" Christabella pointed to a rectangular area deep in the basement. It looked like a maze, with corridors branching off in many directions. It was hard to believe this building had ever functioned as a hospital.
"This is where the [Darkness] lies. The demon is hidden deep within the bowels of this building, hiding behind the face of an innocent."
Is she talking about Alessa? Rose wondered. It seemed Cybil was thinking the same thing, as she asked, "You mean a child?"
"Don't believe your eyes. They lie," Christabella said sternly. "Faith is the only truth."
That's not true, Rose thought. The only truth is love.
When Christabella placed a hand on her shoulder, Rose suddenly thought, I've never heard this woman speak of love. I've never seen her show love to anyone. Even when comforting a grieving mother, Christabella seemed more concerned with how she appeared to her followers. There was no love, just a performance of it.
No, Christabella doesn't matter.
Rose studied the map intently, trying to memorize it. Alessa had led her here, that much was certain. Of course, Alessa must have been dead for a time now. She was killed the night of the great fire but her spirit remained in this town, teasing and taunting Rose, giving her new clues to lead her to Sharon.
Why...?
Rose believed there must be a blood connection between Alessa and Sharon. They looked so alike they could be twins. It was hard to think otherwise. Sharon must have been born into the Gillespie family, meaning she was also related to Dahlia. Still, the exact relationship didn't matter. What mattered was that both Alessa and Dahlia, in their own ways, were helping Rose find Sharon. Alessa left clues, and Dahlia warned her about Christabella. In hindsight, they was very good advices.
Is Alessa the one Christabella calls the demon? This restless, vengeful spirit was using the Darkness to plague Christabella and her followers.
Alessa is not omnipotent. Christabella's followers were able to hide inside the church. Although Alessa had frightened Rose nearly to death, she never actually harmed her. It was all just for fun. She was like a mischievous child. However, she is not just any child. Those monsters, the humanoids that spewed corrosive acid from their chests, the giant cockroaches, even the ferocious Pyramid Head—they all obeyed Alessa’s commands. She must have sent them to play with Rose and the others.
But when it comes to Christabella's followers, Alessa allowed these creatures to attack them at will, bringing them brutal deaths. That power could turn on Rose and Cybil at any time. After all, she is still a young child. While examining the map, Rose thought there might be a chance to reach the basement, where she could speak with her spirit. If she could do that, maybe she could find out why this game was being played. And then, maybe—just maybe—she could get Sharon back.
Christabella likely believed this attempt would fail. She expected both Rose and Cybil to die here, as Cybil had guessed, intending to offer them as sacrifices to the darkness. Regardless of Christabella’s schemes, Rose thought, it didn't matter. She had unwittingly brought Rose one step closer to ending this game. Whether this game could be concluded depended entirely on her shoulders.
At the first corner, she would turn left, then left again, right, left once more, and finally right at the last corner to reach the room Christabella had indicated. Rose closed her eyes, trying to memorize the route.
"Left, left, right," she whispered. "Left, right."
"Adam!" Christabella called to the man behind her. He stepped forward, his heavy boots thudding. Like obedient hounds, they followed their master.
"Take these two to the lower levels," Christabella said quietly.
"To the basement?" the man asked.
"Yes."
The man nodded silently under her glare.
Two other men stepped forward with crowbars. They pried open the elevator doors. As soon as a gap appeared, a third man wedged in an iron bar, widening the opening just enough for someone to slip through. Beyond the gap was darkness. What lay there was unknown. Was the elevator even waiting?
One man handed Rose an old flashlight.
"Take this. They’re attracted to the light like moths. But it's dangerous to keep it on all the time. Yet without it, you won’t be able to see anything."
"Thank you."
But who were ‘they’? Cockroaches? The acid-spewing creatures? Or something worse? She wondered but didn’t ask, not wanting to know the answer.
"Does this… thing actually works?" Rose asked Christabella.
"It will. If the demon wants you, it will. Now go on. Oh, I almost forgot." Christabella reached into her pocket and pulled out a locket. "Forgive me, when you live off things discarded long enough, it becomes a habit. I believe this is yours?"
Rose touched her neck and was shocked to find it missing. She hadn’t even realized it was gone. As she reached for it, the locket opened in Christabella’s hand.
Fate would inevitably unfold. Christabella's expression changed from surprise to hatred.
"Witch!" she screamed, pointing at Rose.
The men murmured.
"This woman's child is a witch! Her child's the likeness of Alessa!"
The men surrounded Rose and Cybil, brandishing their weapons. Cybil grabbed her baton and braced herself.
"Stop them! The witches must not go down!"
Without a word, Cybil pushed Rose into the elevator and stood in the doorway. One man swung a crowbar, but before he could bring it down, Cybil's fist met his face, sending him to the ground. She elbowed the second man, who doubled over, clutching his stomach, only for Cybil to kick his bowed face, her heavy boot smashing his nose. The third man jumped her from behind, locking her in a hold.
"Get in, quick!" Rose shouted from the open doorway.
The fourth man grabbed Rose’s hair, trying to drag her out. Cybil dropped her weight, bringing her head up sharply into the third man's face, breaking his nose. His arms loosened.
"Stop!" Cybil swung her baton at the man pulling Rose. It struck his head with a sickening crunch, brain matter spilling from his crushed temple. Cybil drew her gun, leveling it at the three rising men, who froze. She reached behind, grabbing the iron bar lodged in the door.
"Find her," she said, pulling the bar out.
The doors slammed shut with startling speed.
Cybil turned, gun aimed at Christabella’s forehead. The men yelled, but none dared approach. "Are you ready?" Cybil asked. Christabella trembled with fear, pleading silently with her eyes.
Cybil slowly squeezed the trigger.
Click.
Nothing happened. The last bullet had been fired into the church ceiling. Cybil smiled, satisfied with her small victory. The men lunged at her with shouts of rage.
"No, Cybil!" Rose screamed, pounding on the doors in the pitch-dark box. The thought of what Christabella and those men might do to Cybil made her shudder. "No, no, no!" she repeated, hitting the doors over and over. She frantically pressed the buttons, trying to stop the elevator, even attempting to pry the doors open. But it was all in vain.
The fluorescent light flickered, the motor started humming, and the elevator jolted before suddenly plummeting downward with tremendous speed. Rose felt her body lift off the floor, and she screamed, bracing herself for impact. Was this what the demon wanted?
The elevator abruptly jerked to a halt, throwing Rose against the floor. She clung to the ground, barely having a moment to gather herself before the doors opened. Heat rushed in from the darkness beyond.
Rose turned on the flashlight and cautiously stepped out. Sparks flew from short-circuited wires in the dark hallway, smoke or fog creeping along the floor, obscuring her vision in the flashlight’s beam. A bitter, rotten stench filled the air, mingling with the smell of burnt rubber and blood. The deep darkness amplified her fear, making her hesitate and nearly paralyzing her.
She thought of Sharon and then Cybil standing in the doorway, refusing to stop. She couldn't afford to stop here. She had to keep moving and forced herself forward.
The wooden walls, slick and glistening dark red, looked like they were bleeding. Discarded prosthetics and overturned wheelchairs littered the hallway. Rose shook her head, trying not to imagine the horrors that might have happened here. Mechanical noises echoed—hammers pounding and motors whining. The flashlight illuminated a sign at a corner: Block 8A, Block 7A. Rose closed her eyes, recalling the map on the wall upstairs. Left here.
The mechanical sounds grew louder. Stretchers lined the hallway, scattered with prosthetics. She averted her eyes from the twisted limbs. Was someone muttering nearby, or was it more mechanical noise? Steam hissed from all directions, clouding her vision further.
She saw a sign for Block 6A. Time to turn. She hurried around the corner. The floor here was slippery as if oiled. This seemed to be a lab area. Block 3A. Rusted pipes of varying sizes twisted everywhere like a nest of snakes. The damp heat and humidity made the hallways and rooms feel alive.
The room Christabella had indicated must be nearby. Where was Sharon?
"Mommy’s here," Rose whispered, quickening her pace.
She passed abandoned stretchers, turned another corner, and climbed a few stairs. She was almost there. The room she sought was just around the next corner. Rose stopped in her tracks. Mannequins blocked her path. Nurses? They appeared to be nurse mannequins, striking poses as if mid-task, in short uniforms with incongruous high-heeled shoes.
Why were they here? The flashlight beam revealed dark splotches on the uniforms—dried blood. These were bloodstains.
She would have to pass them.
She shone the light on their faces, molded from clay, without eyes or mouths, just scratches and deep holes. It was crude, failed artwork. As she stepped forward, they all moved at once. Rose recoiled. The nurse mannequins let out cat-like growls, stumbling toward her awkwardly like puppets on strings, their limbs twitching.
Despite their slow pace, they were closing in on her. Some dragged pipes; others held scalpels or ominous medical tools. With no eyes or ears, how did they know she was there? Heat? Scent? Rose remembered what the man had said: They’re attracted to light. So, she turned off the lights.
The nurse mannequins froze mid-step, as if in a game. The hall wasn’t entirely dark; red light seeped in from somewhere, illuminating the corridor.
Cautiously, Rose approached. They wouldn’t harm her. Alessa was trying to scare her. Rose told herself this as she, sweating from the steam rising everywhere, passed the first nurse mannequin. As she did, the mannequin twitched like a puppet. But that was all, their movement ceased. Rose hunched her shoulders and carefully weaved her way between them. Holding her breath, she moved cautiously and slowly, ensuring she didn’t attract their attention.
Her elbow brushed against one of the mannequins. The nurse turned mechanically, raising an arm and slashing at Rose with a scalpel. Rose jumped to the side just in time, and the scalpel slashed the neck of the nurse behind her. The sickening sound of flesh tearing filled the air, and blood spurted out.
The nurse with the slashed throat remained standing, blood gushing from the wound like a fountain. The scent of blood seemed to excite the other mannequins, who began waving their scalpels and knives wildly. The frenzy increased with each injury, like sharks reacting to blood in the water. Rose crawled on the floor beneath their frenzied feet, blood raining down on her like a sudden downpour. Finally, she emerged from the cluster of nurses.
One of them spotted her and let out an animalistic growl. In an instant, all the others turned their gaze toward Rose and started after her again.
Rose placed the flashlight on the floor and turned it on. Then she quietly moved away.
The plan worked. Like cats entranced by catnip, the nurse mannequins, some of them bleeding from various gashes, cooed and moaned in pleasure as they converged on the light.
While they were distracted, Rose ran. Ahead, she saw the double doors. If she hadn’t miscounted the turns, those doors led to the heart of the demon’s lair. Finally, she might get some information about Sharon. Or perhaps, Sharon herself might be beyond those doors.
Rose dashed through the doors and was blinded by a dazzling light.
The intense light forced Rose to cover her eyes with both hands. It felt as though the light was piercing not just her eyes but directly into her mind. She was blinded, unable to see anything. She couldn't hear or feel the ground beneath her feet. The unpleasant stench of blood had vanished. She had lost all sense of direction. It felt as if she had been thrown into a pure white void.
Rose screamed at the top of her lungs, but she couldn't hear her own voice. If she had been left in this state for long, she might have gone mad with anxiety. Then, she heard a voice.
"Congratulations, Rose."
It was an unpleasant voice, gritty and unsettling, like sand mixed into sour cream.
"You finally made it."
Whose voice was it? It was unmistakably a child's voice.
"Your reward is the truth."
The truth? Rose didn’t want the truth. She wanted Sharon, that was all. Yet, whoever this was knew exactly what Rose wanted. If they were offering the truth as a reward, it must contain the next clue. It had been that way up until now. This was the final step in the game to find Sharon.
Rose accepted the offer and said, "Then, tell me."
As soon as she answered, the world seemed to warp and twist. And then she saw it. The world melted into a white, glowing screen, like a movie being projected. A slender girl with dark brown hair appeared. She looked exactly like Sharon. So, it must be Alessa.
"Burn the witch! Burn her! Burn her!"
The shouting filled the air.
"Did you see? Alessa was a good little girl," the gritty voice said. "But nobody else thought so."
The images became clearer. Alessa, in a blue uniform, stood in a school hallway, lockers lined up on either side. It was Midwich Elementary School. The school was well-kept, with no peeling paint, as it was before the great fire. Alessa was surrounded by a group of girls, looking terrified. The other students were chanting with their fists raised.
"Burn the witch! Burn the witch! Burn the witch!"
The scene was grainy and full of noise, like an old film, but Alessa's expression was clear. She was scared, anxious, on the verge of being crushed by fear.
"Their parents told them Alessa was a bad girl," the raspy voice continued. "Unlike the other children, Alessa didn’t have a father. That was the only reason."
Every tragedy might have a simple beginning. In a small, rural town, anyone who was slightly different was pecked at by the others. It must have been a frequent occurrence in such a stifling environment. There was always a victim to bear the growing malice. The town was built on the foundations of those victims. Until that time.
"Burn the witch! Burn her! Burn her!"
Alessa was terrified. She was pushed to the brink by fear and suddenly started running. She ran down the hallway, looking for a place to hide. She found a door and slipped inside. It was the restroom. Rose recognized it. It was the place where a man had been mutilated with barbed wire.
There was someone there. A man, cleaning the toilet. He had a name tag on his uniform.
Colin.
That was the name written there. No doubt about it. The man who had been bound with barbed wire, bent backward like a scorpion, chasing Rose—the creature crawling among the dead. That was this man. The man saw Alessa enter. He looked at the frightened girl and her disheveled clothes with predatory eyes. Grinning, he approached Alessa.
"Alessa was all alone. You know what can happen to a lonely, weak little girl..."
A scream echoed. A girl's scream, so painful it made one want to cover their ears.
Rose thought, if that girl had wished to turn the world to ash at that moment, it would have been justified. If Sharon had experienced something like that, Rose would have turn the world to ash herself. She thought this as the image suddenly shifted.
Time stretched and warped like melted candy. It broke and connected again. Time had taken a shortcut. They were still in the restroom. A woman was speaking kindly through the door.
"It's okay. It's me, come out."
It was Dahlia. A young, beautiful Dahlia with glossy red hair. The restroom door opened slightly. Alessa peeked out. Dahlia reached in, pulling the girl out, and hugged the wounded child tightly.
Another figure entered the restroom. She stood tall, wearing the same uniform as the students. It was Christabella. Rose immediately understood—she was the principal of this elementary school. From behind her, there are curious students peered in. "Go away," she said sternly, closing the door.
"The relatives just gave orders. They didn't help."
Relatives? Rose didn't understand what that meant at the time. Dahlia was still holding Alessa tightly, but Alessa was looking at Christabella with a face full of anxiety, as if anticipating the next misfortune. Christabella approached. Time skipped again, leaving Christabella as time fragmented.
She was reprimanding Dahlia harshly. "We know! Even the children know! That girl is threatening our unity."
Dahlia weakly shook her head, muttering, "It's not Alessa's fault. It's not Alessa's fault. It's not Alessa's fault."
Christabella's cold eyes were fixed on Alessa as she continued toward Dahlia. "You brought this sin amongst us," Christabella declared. "The faithful must gather in judgment for we are called to cleanse this filth." She spoke slowly, as if to a child.
"What does she mean, mommy?" Alessa asked anxiously.
"It's okay," Dahlia said, trying to comfort her daughter, but her voice lacked strength.
Christabella smiled confidently. "Yes, there's nothing to worry about." She brushed a strand of hair from Dahlia's beautiful face. "Trust me, my dear sister."
Sister! Christabella and Dahlia were sisters. The unhelpful relative was Aunt Christabella.
"It's always been that way. I've listened to everything you've said. Haven't I, Dahlia? So trust me. I'll cleanse this sin."
Dahlia's eyes were filled with fear. Rose sensed that Dahlia was resigned to their judgment, hoping for her daughter's acceptance. Rose didn't know how Dahlia had come to bear Alessa, but she had bravely given birth and struggled to raise her child against their strict rules. Now, Dahlia was seeking forgiveness from them. Christabella had won.
"They always have. Over and over, since this town was founded," the voice said. Time skipped again.
Rose suddenly stood outside the Grand Hotel, as if in a dream. Black cars were pulling up to the entrance. A doorman hurried to open the back door. Christabella, her face hidden by a black lace veil, stepped out. The people lined up outside the hotel respectfully parted to let her through. Alessa emerged from the car, looking confused but no longer frightened. Dahlia followed, taking her daughter's hand and leading her into the hotel. Behind them, followers in suits trailed silently. Christabella led them through the thick carpeted hallway.
"Do you remember the hotel?" the raspy voice asked. "I led you to all these places, and you didn't miss a single clue."
Christabella stopped in front of the painting of the burning. The one Rose had torn apart. She turned to look at her poor sister. "You may go home, Dahlia. We will fight the sin, but not the sinner."
Dahlia stared at her sister in shock. What was she planning? Rose wondered.
Christabella pressed a button, and the painting slid aside, revealing the door to room 111. Christabella pushed Alessa forward, who turned back in terror.
"Mommy!" Alessa screamed. "Mommy! Mommny!"
Christabella grabbed Alessa's shoulder and quickly shoved her inside. The two disappeared through the door. The men surrounded Dahlia. Christabella had deceived her sister. Dahlia stepped back, tearing off her veil with trembling hands, overcome with fear, sadness, and regret. She didn't know what to do, tears streaming down her face.
"You know how that feels, don't you Rose," the child’s voice said. "You know what it's like to lose your little girl."
"Oh, what have i done!" Dahlia screamed, running her hands through her hair before she started running.
Christabella's voice echoed. "Once again, we are locked facing a moral battle!" She was speaking from an altar deep within a factory. Dressed in a purple robe, she addressed the congregation fervently.
"They thought they could defeat the demon," the child's voice said.
"Praise God and our unity!" Christabella continued shouting. "Praise the innocent for their sacrifice!"
The child's voice laughed thinly. "But you should be careful how you fight evil."
Christabella raised her arms, her voice high-pitched. "The innocent will bring our purification."
The voice added, "Sometimes your weapons can turn back on you."
A large iron cauldron stood at the center of the altar, filled with white-hot coals, spewing flames. Suspended above it by two chains was a large metal ring, to which a girl was bound, arms and legs spread. It was Alessa. It was an unbelievable sight. The girl was being burned alive. Flames licked at her, and the intense heat turned the iron red. Her naked body was charred, her skin cracked and oozing.
Rose wanted to turn away, to close her eyes, but she couldn't. She was forced to watch the girl burn.
The large iron ring, balanced on two chains, swung like a pendulum. Alessa's rage, her sorrow, and her hatred broke one of the chains. The unbalanced ring swung wildly, hitting the cauldron and spilling the burning coals. Flames quickly spread to the surrounding curtains.
The calamity had begun. The sound of an angel’s trumpet could be heard. The believers pushed their way past each other, scrambling to escape, with Christabella leading the charge. In an instant, the area was engulfed in smoke.Soon, the flames would burn through the floor and collapse into the tunnels below, triggering the massive explosion that had once destroyed the town.
The cycle of revenge had begun. It was bound to happen. Rose thought so.
Perhaps there truly was a God. A single girl, bathed in the malice of the townspeople, betrayed by her aunt, denied her mother’s salvation, and burned alive. Seeing the result now, Rose realized that the people who terrorized the girl would be forever haunted by that same terror. If this was God’s work, she thought she might even start believing.
Voices could be heard from below. Angry shouts.
Dahlia and uniformed police officers pushed through the fleeing believers and ascended. Dahlia immediately realized what had happened to her daughter. She fell to the ground, weeping in a prayer-like posture. Her face was no longer that of the former Dahlia. Sorrow had robbed her face of all its radiance, filling the gaps with rotting regret, hatred, and madness.
"The Dahlia you met was born here and now," a voice said.
A tall police officer ran towards Alessa. Despite burning his hands, he tried to unchain the girl. Dahlia, crying and tearing at her hair, shouted curses.
"Take her away!" the tall police officer shouted.
Other officers took Dahlia down the stairs. The tall officer, despite his burning hands, finally freed Alessa. and wrapped her in his coat.
"There were good people in this town. People like you, Rose. People trying to help others. People who extend a hand to those in need."
The smell of burnt human flesh made Rose feel nauseous. But she couldn’t look away. And then she saw it. A small hand moving. The twig-like burnt fingers of Alessa clutched the officer’s coat.
Alessa was alive.
Time shifted again.
It was a hospital. Brookhaven Hospital. Another place Rose was guided to. Alessa was in the hospital. Her burnt body lay on a stretcher, covered in plastic tubes. The nurses lifted her, sheet and all, from the stretcher to the bed. Alessa’s small hand gripped the clean sheet. Her entire body was cracked and split. It was a wonder she was still alive.
"She was all alone, in great pain and fear," a child’s voice quietly informed.
Alessa’s ribcage moved up and down. Each breath sounded like a weak scream. A nurse entered. Wearing a red sweater over her white uniform, she efficiently went about her tasks with gloved hands.
The child’s voice spoke coldly. "She was gravely wounded, suffering, and afraid for so long. The fear and pain turn into hatred." The voice grew crushed and low, and labored breathing was heard. "And the hatred started to change the world."
The nurse didn’t notice the flowers in the vase wilting.
"Alessa’s hatred grew and burned within her, eventually intending to burn the world."
The nurse in the red sweater walked towards Alessa’s oxygen tent.
"Alessa was fed up with interacting with people. It only brought her pain."
The nurse bent down and peeked inside the tent.
"Her hatred sought to turn even those with mere curiosity to ash."
What did the nurse see inside? She quickly retreated and fled the room.
"This is when I was born," the voice said. A small black shadow walked behind the tent. It came to stand before Rose, gazing up at her with familiar eyes.Eyes partially hidden by black hair. Eyes with gray irises, just like Sharon’s. The eyes of the girl Rose met in the factory.
"Look! I’m burning!" said the girl who had guided Rose here. At first, Rose mistook her for Sharon. Then she thought it must be Alessa’s ghost. But that didn’t make sense. Alessa was still alive at that time. Yet, she walked around her.
"Now it’s their turn. I told her," the girl touched the tent. "I told her they would all become victims of her nightmares." Alessa lifted her charred arm. The girl placed her hand on Alessa’s.
Suddenly, the sound of machinery began. The sound echoed throughout the room. The floor darkened. Steam hissed and rose. The scenery lost its color. Darkness melted from the corners. The walls rusted and cracked like blood vessels.
Darkness. This was when the first Darkness was born.
"Now, Rose," a creaking voice said, "we must talk."
Just what she wanted. At last, she would understand about Sharon.
A blinding light emerged. Everything was swallowed by light, then the light receded. Rose was standing in Alessa’s hospital room. The smell of disinfectant and a hint of excrement. An oxygen tent was in the center. Inside, Alessa lay. The walls were red as if afflicted with a fever. Steam rose from the floor. The wallpaper on the ceiling peeled off and hung down limply. It looked like flayed skin.
A red nurse stood beyond the tent. Starched cap, white uniform. Red sweater, red high heels. She kept her head down, doing something. Rose approached her. The red nurse, head still bowed, silently left the room.
Rose peered inside the tent. A grown woman was inside. Multiple tubes and electrode wires connected to her body. Her skin was melted, contorted, and hardened. Blue-black, oozing creamy fluid. The woman opened her eyes. Those eyes looked at Rose. Sad eyes. Gritting her teeth to endure the pain.
"Don’t be afraid."
Rose turned towards the eerie, creaking voice. The red-sweater nurse stood there. A small hand rested on her shoulder. The girl from before appeared from behind her. Long brown hair, pale dirty skin. That blue uniform.
"She won’t hurt you," the girl said in a raspy voice, gesturing to the tent with her chin.
"Who is she?" Rose asked, though she already knew the answer.
"She is Alessa," the girl replied.
"Then who are you?"
"I have many names. I am many. And right now, I am Alessa’s dark side—the Dark Alessa."
Christabella had called this girl a demon. Rose had thought this girl was Alessa’s vengeful spirit. But she realized she was wrong. Christabella’s words were not just religious delusions. The Darkness existed. A universal Darkness that had existed since ancient times. Also known as a demon. Now it was the Dark Alessa. A goddess of hatred and revenge born from Alessa’s heart.
"Where is my child?" Rose asked fearfully.
"She’s not your child. Truthfully, she’s not even human." The Dark Alessa said with amusement. "Sharon is like me, born from that woman. She is the divided heart of Alessa." She pointed inside the tent. Through the crack, Rose saw the woman struggling to breathe smile. "Sharon is what remains of her goodness." Dark Alessa said. "That’s why I saved her from this hell and hid her in safety."
The scenery flipped, showing a new image. Rose saw a large stone building. She knew it was the Toluca County Orphanage. Dark Alessa arrived. In her dirty blue uniform, she carried something. A small baby. She pushed open the iron door and gently placed the doll-like baby in front of the entrance. The baby began to cry. A strong, vigorous cry, asserting its life. The door opened. A sister peered out from the gap. She found the crying baby, knelt down, and gently picked it up.
No doubt about it. That was Sharon.
The long, tragic story finally connected here.
Sharon, Sharon, my beloved Sharon.
"Now, the dream of this life must end and so too must the dreamers within it." When she noticed the voice, she was back in the hospital room. Dark Alessa approached Rose, looking up at her with Sharon’s familiar face. But this was not Sharon. Sharon was her daughter, an innocent good child. And she was…
"For over thirty years, they have lived by deceiving their souls. For over thirty years, they have denied their rightful fate. But now is the end of days, and I am the reaper."
"They" meant Christabella and her followers. Dahlia was undoubtedly included too. Sister and sister. Mother and daughter. Bound by hatred and twisted love.
But, Rose thought,
I am not involved. Neither Sharon nor I. Even if Sharon is Alessa herself, that doesn’t matter now. They were traders, bartering from ancient times. Rose's wish was simple: Sharon. To find her and return home.
"What do you want me to do?" Rose asked.
"All we ask for is satisfaction," Dark Alessa answered.
"Satisfaction?"
"Revenge." She smiled sweetly.
"But why me?"
"Because you chose Sharon."
"What does that have to do with—"
"Christabella will soon find Sharon. She plans to purify her. You know what purification means, don't you?"
"Oh, God, no...."
With a groan, Rose fell to her knees, clutching her head. She wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come. She was dizzy and nauseous.
"Because of their blind conviction to faith, I cannot enter the church. Not until they accept their fate." Dark Alessa crouched in front of Rose, who was kneeling. "But you can. Because you chose Sharon."
Dark Alessa gently touched Rose's cheek, just like Sharon would but she would never force such a choice on Rose. She had to go back to Christabella and somehow destroy them all. It wouldn't be easy. She would likely risk her life. She would offer many deaths to Dark Alessa in exchange for Sharon's safety. If she couldn't do it, she would turn back, leave this town, and convince herself it was the only way. To sell her soul to the devil or not. The hesitation was brief.
"Just tell me what i need to do," Rose asked.
"Tell them the truth," Dark Alessa replied. "It's simple. Really simple."
"The truth..." Rose muttered, then nodded.
Dark Alessa stood and pulled Rose up. As she stood, Dark Alessa suddenly jumped at her. She hugged Rose's waist tightly, pressing her dirty face into Rose's chest.
Electricity surged through Rose's abdomen. Her limbs convulsed uncontrollably. The current made her shake like a puppet. Like the nurses in the hallway, Rose was herself yet not completly. Something was creeping into her body. It felt like swallowing mud. When she realized, Dark Alessa had disappeared. A lonely wail echoed behind her. She knew without looking. The red nurse's wail. The red-sweater nurse shed bloody tears from her empty eye sockets, mourning Rose's fate and her pact with the devil.
The police car approached the county line.
On its roof, red and blue lights flashed. Christopher sat in the back seat, looking like he had just swallowed something bitter. His car was driven by Gucci's subordinate, while Gucci himself drove the police car. Gucci had promised Christopher that as soon as they crossed out of his jurisdiction, he would return the car keys. He also threatened that if Christopher stepped even an inch back into his jurisdiction, he'd throw him in jail, warning that the bed was hard and his cellmates would be unlike anyone he had ever encountered.
As they crossed the county line, Christopher's car pulled to the side of the road. The headlights of the police car illuminated a sign towering above them.
--Do you not know that the saints shall judge the world? --Do you not know that we will judge angels?
"Alright," Gucci said, opening the door for Christopher. He helped him out and removed his handcuffs.
Without a word of thanks, Christopher walked to his car and snatched the keys from the young officer standing by it. He planned to contact his friends and acquaintances as soon as he got home and request a search of the town, both politically and legally. He believed those country cops would be the ones judged then. It wasn’t just Rose; his child was missing too. Did Gucci think the world would take this lightly? What kind of world did that man live in?
"Listen, I’ll be back. Count on it," Christopher warned as he got into his car. "And you'll regret it."
As he shut the door, Gucci held it open. "Before you go, there's something you need to know about Officer Bennett." Gucci looked down at Christopher. "Years ago, some lunatic abducted children and threw them into a mine vent in Silent Hill. During the search, Bennett accidentally fell into that vent. She was there for three days before being rescued. During that time, she encouraged the children, administered emergency treatment, and kept them warm with her body heat. She was lucky, but she did everything right. That’s why they survived. We know what we're doing."
The story didn’t reassure Christopher. There was no guarantee that officer was still searching for Sharon and Rose.
"Whatever. I need to do everything I can," Christopher said, closing the door.
The church came into view. The steeple on the hill appeared and disappeared in the fog. Rose hurried through the quiet cemetery.
"Look," came a voice. It was the voice of Dark Alessa. "See what's happening there. See what they’re doing in the name of God. Look." Again, light engulfed everything.
Inside the church, it was like a festival. Excited believers, their faces flushed, moved like ants. They carried dry branches, piling them in the center of the sanctuary. Everyone was unnaturally elated, as if drunk.
"No, please stop," a woman cried.
Her gray, dirty hair whipped about as she screamed.
"Christabella. Please, stop."
Her sunken eyes were blood red. Her wrinkled face was smeared with tears and saliva. Five female believers in clean veils held her down. The hysterical woman was none other than Dahlia.
Christabella looked down at her with satisfaction.
"The truth is clear to those who see," Christabella proclaimed triumphantly. "Just as I saw that you were hiding this child."
This child?
Rose’s heart leaped.
Could it be Sharon?
"Please, Christabella. Let her live, she's innocent" Dahlia pleaded.
"Look at her! She’s the whelp of your daughter!" At Christabella’s words, the believers laughed mockingly.
Rose looked where Christabella pointed.
It was Sharon!
Rose wanted to scream. Sharon was being held by a large man from behind. Wait there. Mama’s coming. Rose tried to run but couldn't move. She was just an observer.
"The demon made that woman give birth to this vile, filthy child!" Christabella sang out.
"Stop, please!" Dahlia screamed. "Stop!"
Dahlia struggled desperately. One of the women holding her grabbed a thick branch and mercilessly struck Dahlia on the temple. Dahlia crumpled like a doll. A cheer rose from the believers.
Fireworks exploded in Rose’s mind. Time sped up. A towering pile of branches had been stacked. A ladder had been set up next to it, reaching up to the balcony on the second floor. A woman was tied to the top.
It was Cybil.
Her face was swollen and red. Her right leg bent where there was no joint. Thinking about what had been done to her made Rose shudder. And now, something even more brutal was about to happen.
"Once again, we are commanded to purify sin," Christabella shouted to the believers. "Outsiders have entered and spread filth. This arrogant woman fired bullets into this church. Their outrage gave the demon power, bringing darkness and disturbing the believers' peace. This witch will now receive her punishment."
Christabella paused, glared at the sky, and shouted.
"We burn this witch! We vanquish evil!"
"Burn the witch!" the believers echoed, raising their fists. It was just like the painting of the burning. Nothing had changed. The foolishness and cruelty of people.
"No, you can't, you can't!" Cybil said. The brave officer tried to reason with the believers, excited at the prospect of burning someone alive.
"Don’t listen to that woman! Think about it. You’re about to burn a living person!"
It was in vain. The believers jeered and laughed at her.
A believer approached Christabella with a purple robe. She donned it over her blue garments, looking like a high priestess. Raising her hands, Christabella quieted the crowd.
"Those who aid the demon," Christabella shouted, "must be cleansed by fire from whence they came!"
"That's insane! You're all insane!" Cybil screamed.
Christabella ignored her, taking a torch from a believer. The flame illuminated Christabella's ecstatic, pale face. The excited believers shouted loudly, their cheers echoing in the room. Their faces twisted with a horrifying anticipation. Their base desires had turned them into something less than animals.
"Why are you listening to this?" Cybil's desperate plea fell on deaf ears. "Why...?" It was a question only she could hear now.
Christabella approached the pile of branches, bringing the torch closer. The dry branches quickly caught fire, blazing up. Cybil was tied to a rope. The rope ran through a pulley system, held by several people on the balcony. As the rope was loosened, Cybil was slowly lowered toward the flames. Cybil screamed in terror as the flames began to lick at her body. Slowly, painfully, she was burned.
--Stop it!
Rose's mind screamed.
Enough already.
"This is where it ends," came the voice of Dark Alessa.
Suddenly, Rose found herself at the church entrance.
"This is as far as I can go. Now, it is up to you."
"Thank you," Rose whispered, and ran up the stairs leading into the church.
"The demon is a formidable adversary," Christabella declared to the still-excited believers. "But we are prepared to face it. There is nothing to fear. The demon's minions will be purified by the holy flame. We will stop the end of this world!"
The believers roared in agreement.
"Look there," she pointed again to the pile of branches. This time, Sharon was tied to a ladder atop it. She was sobbing, her eyes red and swollen from crying. "That child is sinful. She is a vessel of corruption. He has once again taken the form of an innocent child to tempt us. We will purify this evil being with fire!"
"That's not gonna happen!" The voice echoed through the church.
Christabella turned toward it. A dark silhouette stood against the light at the doorway.
"Mommy!" Sharon cried.
"Rose..." Christabella murmured.
"It's okay, baby," Rose called out to her. "Everything's gonna be okay now."
"You've come back," Christabella said with hatred. "But it won't turn out as you hoped. Not now, not ever."
Rose advanced forward. The believers gathered around, chuckling slackly, their laughter like that of beasts. Rose thought of them as the ones who had burned Cybil alive. They were drunk on the "cleansing ritual" and were looking for their next victim, their eyes wild like those of drug addicts needing a fix. The believers surrounding Rose parted to the sides. Christabella appeared, wearing the same purple robe embroidered at the collar and sleeves as depicted in the painting of the "First Burning."
"The witch has returned," Christabella announced.
The believers seemed unaware, but Rose could hear the fear in Christabella's voice. She was afraid. Did she suspect what pact Rose had made with the Dark Alessa?
"Witch!" someone cried out.
"Witch! Witch!" the believers echoed, soon pointing their fingers at Rose and shouting, "Witch! Witch! Burn her! Burn the witch!"
"Do not believe her lies!" Rose called out boldly. "I come from a world outside this town, I come from a world filled with life!"
Christabella retreated, men standing in front to block her. When Rose tried to push past, one believer slapped her face. The pain was minimal compared to the anger she felt. She glared at the man with burning eyes until he averted his gaze.
"Step aside," Rose commanded, and the believers parted. Beyond them stood a trembling Christabella.
"Why don't you tell them the truth?" Rose shouted at her. "Tell them the truth that you deny even to yourself."
Christabella averted her eyes, stepping back further.
"Then I will," Rose said, addressing the believers. "The end of the world isn't coming! You were all burned in the fire you started, and there's nothing left to save you. Because you are already damnedl!"
Murmurs of despair spread through the crowd, with some breaking into tears.
"Cry for your sins. Beg for forgiveness. You all died in the mine fire years ago. You've been living in this nightmarish limbo. This is already your punishment. This is your hell," Rose said, gently, as if speaking to children. "But it's over now. For a fleeting moment, reclaim your humanity, and let it guide you through the eternal darkness. Repent for your sins. Shed tears of remorse."
"Seize that woman!" Christabella commanded. "Burn her! Burn her as a witch!"
Her voice reignited the believers' frenzy. They shouted, "Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!"
"Burn me?" Rose asked, shaking off the hands that tried to restrain her. "That's your answer? Burn anything you fear, burn anything that is out of your control?"
Facing the believers, Rose declared, "This woman has used your fears to control you. She led you to burn Alessa Gillespie. She made you burn an innocent child alive. She burdened you with the guilt of murdering the innocent. This woman," she pointed at Christabella.
"That child was sin incarnate!" Christabella shouted.
"No. It's you who have sinned. You filled an innocent child's heart with hatred. And now you cower in the face of the that pure soul's revenge."
"Heresay! Burn her! Burn the witch!" Christabella screamed again.
"Burn her! Burn her!" the believers echoed, but their voices were scattered and hesitant.
Rose's voice grew stronger, realizing Christabella's hold on them was waning.
"Your faith brings death! Listen well, there is no god here," Rose proclaimed, standing before Christabella. She stared directly at her, unflinching. Unable to bear it, Christabella averted her eyes and reached into her robe, pulling out a ceremonial dagger. Before Rose could react, Christabella plunged it into her chest.
"Mommy!" Sharon screamed.
Rose fell back, landing on her rear. The ornate dagger's hilt protruded from her chest. For a moment, she didn't understand what had happened. Sharon's screams echoed.
Triumphant, Christabella shouted, "This woman is a blasphemer against God!" Raising her pale hand, she called out, "Behold! Witness God's judgment..."
Her voice trailed off as Rose stood up, black liquid dripping from her chest wound like darkness itself.
A sound like the wind was heard.
The believers fell silent, listening intently. The sound grew louder, like sobbing. Suddenly, all the lights in the church went out. The light from the windows vanished. The Darkness enveloped everything. The Darkness had invaded the church.
The circular light of the flashlight moved desolately back and forth. The darkness held overwhelming power. People's fears were growing. If pricked by a needle, they seemed likely to burst.
Rose lowered her head and placed her hands on the floor. She lifted her body and pulled the knife from her chest. A moan, akin to a sob, escaped her.
She was alive. "I'm alive," Rose muttered to no one in particular, placing a hand on her chest.
From there flowed a darkness like tar. Suddenly, an electric shock surged through her body. Her limbs began to move on their own. Then, a massive amount of darkness gushed from her wound. Something cold rushed through her body, seeking an exit, pushing towards her chest, and erupted explosively from there. Rose moved awkwardly, like a broken machine, as she moaned, "Oh, oh."
Dark Alessa had sealed the darkness inside Rose's body. She must have understood everything. That Rose, who had chosen the good part of Alessa, would be able to enter the church with the darkness inside her, and that Rose would be stabbed by Christabella, releasing the sealed darkness into the church.
Christabella seemed to realize what she had done. She had invited the darkness with her own hands. Her face twisted in fear, she fled into the crowd of believers.
A wind blew. A wind that carried the contagion of darkness. The world decayed at a furious pace. Everything that made this world what it was festered, crumbled, and fell away.
Rose stood before a large painting depicting a burning at the stake. She understood what was about to happen. Like the beanstalk that took Jack to the sky, countless barbed wires sprouted from the ground. At their tips was a metal bed entangled with the wires. It was a sturdy hospital bed. Supported by the wires, the bed rose, standing vertically, passing the balcony, and ascending further towards the ceiling.
The person lying on it glared down at the church from the bed. A woman wrapped in bandages soaked with blood and mucus. A woman who had once almost died from third-degree burns. She was Alessa, who had grown up on that bed for thirty years. She was tied to the bed with barbed wire, like a sleeping beauty surrounded by thorns. She opened her eyes resentfully, looking down at the people gathered in the church. From around the bed, countless barbed wires poured out like a flood. They carried her hatred, her resentment, her malice towards the believers.
Forgetting about Rose and Sharon, the people in tattered gray robes fled in panic.
Bundles of barbed wire attacked them. Those caught by the tentacle-like wires had their limbs torn off, their heads ripped off. The rapidly growing wires pierced their bodies like spears. The wires rampaged inside their bodies, their sharp thorns shredding their organs to pieces. Innards and flesh scattered like confetti. Screams echoed within the church.
Dahlia was awake, watching as her former "companions" who had once driven her out were reduced to mere pieces of meat. The iron tentacles dismembered the believers mercilessly but did not attack Dahlia.
"Why? Why don't they attack me?" Dahlia asked, looking at her daughter floating in the air.
She had resignation but no fear. Yet the terrifying barbed wires avoided her as if she were forbidden. Another mother also felt no fear. She, too, was spared from the disaster.
Rose picked up the dagger that had stabbed her and climbed up as blood rained down. Sharon was tied to the end of a long ladder propped up against the balcony.
Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! The daughter she had been searching for was right there.
Desperately, Rose ran up the stairs. She saw Christabella along the way. Christabella was floating in the air. Barbed wires had caught her hands and feet, pulling them in all directions as if to crucify her. Blood dripped from her wrists and ankles. The wires wrapped around her head and neck like a crown of thorns. She cried, begged for her life, and struggled to escape while floating above the fleeing believers.
She then noticed Rose climbing the stairs before her. Contorted with agony, Christabella still cast a hateful gaze at her. It lasted only a moment.
In the next instant, multiple wires pierced her abdomen and chest. The gleaming thorns churned her insides. Christabella writhed in agony, vomiting blood and screaming. With the precision of a surgeon, the barbed wires inflicted no fatal wounds. Her pain was endless. The wires holding her arms tightened. Her shoulders creaked. Suddenly, her shoulder joints could no longer bear the strain and dislocated. Tendons snapped with a sound. The wires sawed through the taut skin on her shoulders like a saw. In no time, her arms were severed. Christabella could no longer scream. A broken whistle-like sound escaped her throat.
The unimaginable pain didn't even allow her to faint. Christabella remained floating in the air, held by the wires around her neck and ankles. Some believers despaired further upon seeing her, their leader, in such a state. One man, who had always followed Christabella, bravely grabbed a wire and started to climb. His palms were torn and bled immediately, but he continued to climb towards Christabella. Just as his hand was about to touch her foot, the wire wrapped around his neck, pulling him away and throwing him into the bundle of thorns. No one else tried to save her.
As if waiting for this, the wires attacked Christabella with final force. Thousands of barbed wires struck her all at once. The wires inside her body burst out from her mouth and her torn abdomen, accompanied by flesh and blood. Her legs were spread to the extreme, ultimately tearing her body apart. The wires swarmed the torn body. She scattered into pieces of flesh. Until the very end, until her body was completely destroyed, Christabella remained conscious. By then, Rose had finally reached the balcony.
Sharon was right there. Calling her name, she rushed over. The man next to Sharon noticed Rose. He was the one Christabella had called Adam. With wild eyes, he raised a knife and charged. Reflexively, Rose thrust her knife forward. It stabbed into his throat. The man fell, turning his scream into a spray of blood.
He had been dead for thirty years. But that didn't stop Rose from feeling the sensation of the knife cutting through skin, flesh, and bone. There was no time for guilt. Another man, shouting "Witch! Witch!" at the sight of his comrade's death, came at her. He easily dodged her outstretched knife and swung down a club he was holding. Rose closed her eyes, bracing for the impact. But the man could not bring it down on her head. Dozens of wires wrapped around him, instantly reducing him to pieces of flesh. Alessa, surrounded by iron thorns, looked at Rose.
Another man who tried to take Sharon hostage also turned into chunks of meat in the next moment. Rose reached Sharon.
"Sharon, it's me, it's mommy."
Approaching her, Rose cut the ropes binding her daughter to the ladder.
"Wait, just a bit more, Sharon. We're going home."
With trembling hands, Rose cut the last rope. Her daughter was finally free.
"It's okay now, Sharon. Mommy's here." She said, holding Sharon tightly.
Sharon clung to her in return. Rose felt her warmth. There was no greater happiness. The screams of the believers continued unabated. The hellish carnage showed no sign of ending. Alessa, watching it all with satisfaction, looked at Rose and Sharon with a sad smile, then turned her gaze back to the massacre.
Rose, trying to shield her daughter from the gruesome scene, covered her eyes and ears. "Close your eyes." Rose said, escaping to the edge of the balcony wall. She didn't know what Sharon saw at that moment but Sharon was facing the darkness.
Light streamed in through the window. Several beams of light formed a ladder to the heavens, with swirling dust particles glittering in the radiance.
Everything was finally over.
Though still trembling, Sharon was now beside her. Rose gently relaxed her arms. Sharon looked up at her. Her face was expressionless.
Rose thought it was understandable. After seeing all that, it must have left a painful scar on her heart. But, Rose thought, of course, it was all over now. Sharon would no longer be haunted by nightmares every night. Time would be on Sharon's side. And, of course, they wouldn’t hesitate to lend a hand—both her and Chris.
Rose led her daughter down the stairs.
There was no one in the church. In fact, there was no trace of the disaster that had occurred. The blood and flesh that had been scattered on the floor were nowhere to be seen. Only a thin layer of dust remained. Dust to dust.
Rose took Sharon's hand and headed for the door.
There was Dahlia, sitting with her back hunched and her knees drawn to her chest. As they passed by, Dahlia spoke.
"Why did she not take me with the others?"
Rose turned back and replied, "Because you're her mother. Mother is God in the eyes of a child"
She opened the door and stepped outside. The fog still obscured their view. But there was no more fear lurking within it. The fog was simply just fog.
When they reached the edge of town, her jeep was parked there. Rose seated Sharon in the passenger seat and started the engine. It roared to life effortlessly. Sharon looked at Rose and smiled. Rose smiled back and ruffled her hair.
"I love you," she said, kissing her on the temple.
As the car started moving, Sharon curled up in her seat and fell asleep, sucking her thumb. Like a baby. Let's think about our daughter's future together with Chris. I won’t try to handle everything by myself anymore.
Rose was genuinely grateful to Christopher, who had come to their rescue. In the thick fog, Rose spotted a fallen motorcycle. It was Cybil's. Perhaps she had been taken to the hospital from here. Maybe she never reached the town and was now receiving treatment in the hospital. Like the town’s inhabitants, maybe the Cybil they saw in town was just an illusion. That’s what Rose believed. It was the only way she could cope.
Eventually, the car reached the cliff that had once surrounded the town.
There was no cliff.
Not even a crack remained.
Rose took out her cell phone. She pressed the button for home. The ringing started, and soon the voice on the tape was heard.
—Hey, this is Chris. And this is Rose here. And Sharon, too! Please leave a message.
The recording was utterly peaceful. Rose couldn't help but smile.
"Christopher, it’s me. I'm with Sharon." She looked at Sharon, who was sound asleep. Smiling, she said, "And, we’re coming home."
Christopher paced restlessly between the first and second floors. He had contacted every friend and acquaintance. Everyone had offered to help and advised him to stay at home and wait.
—The more you move around, the more troublesome it gets. His lawyer friend had said.
—You interfered with the investigation there. Oh, wait a minute. I understand what you want to say. But think about how the local police feel about people like you and me in suits. They already don't think well of us. And then you barged in and even trespassed. You understand, right? Stay home and wait for the good news.
Yes, what the lawyer said was probably right. After all, Christopher had been chased out of town by a detective named Gucci. But that didn’t mean he could just sit still. The more he stayed still, the more anxious he became.
The phone started ringing. Christopher dashed down the stairs.The ringing soon switched to the answering machine. Just before the recorded message finished, he picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
All he could hear was static on the other end. A continuous scratching sound. For some reason, Christopher felt like he could hear Rose's voice beyond the static. It might be a hallucination. Normally, one would think so. The noise was terrible but the last call from Rose had been like that as well.
"Hello? Rose? Is that you? Rose?"
There was only static from the receiver. And then the call ended.
She drove across an old single-lane bridge.
Finally, they had truly escaped that town—both Sharon and herself. The broken wire fence was nowhere to be seen. Soon, she passed by the Brahms gas station. There was still plenty of gas.
Sharon was lying on the back seat, exhausted. Rose wanted to let her sleep peacefully for now.
The fog didn't lift, but the oppressive atmosphere was gone. The absence of cars on the road was likely due to the fog. But what day was it today? Time had gone mad in that town. Could it be the weekend? How many days had they been away? Two days? Three? Longer?
Eventually, the car turned into the driveway.
Home was just a stone's throw away. She could see it now. A home brimming with modest happiness. She pulled the car up in front of the house. The windows were fogged up, making it impossible to see inside. Rose got out of the car and woke Sharon up.
Christopher must have heard that message, the door is open. She thought as she turned the handle.
The door opened.
She had managed to bring Sharon back home. Rose felt like dancing on the spot. She entered with Sharon. It was unbelievable that they had made it back here. A deep sense of relief, unlike anything she had ever felt, filled her heart. The marble floor, the polished glass table. The white leather chairs in the living room.
Everything was clean. A normal life, free of rust and bloodstains, awaited here.
I'm home.
She was about to call out when Sharon, with a mischievous smile, put her finger to her lips.Then she ran upstairs. She must be looking for Christopher, probably intending to scare him.
Rose entered the living room. She sat down on a leather chair and looked at the sofa across from her. She remembered how Christopher often napped there.He would sleep curled up with a peaceful expression, and upon waking, he would say, as if making excuses, "I always fall asleep here without realizing it," especially on rainy days. Remembering this, Rose smiled.
There was a large window behind the empty sofa. Through it, she could see a thick, milk-like fog. What would Chris do in this fog? Sleep? Or wake up? Thinking about this, a smile naturally spread across her face.
Christopher was dozing off on the living room sofa. Outside, it was pouring rain. The sound of the rain pounding against the window was loud. Normally, sitting on the sofa while listening to the rain helped him relax.
But not today.
The intense rain noise was only making him more agitated.
What was that phone call about? Why hadn't Rose called back? Where was she? Had he been mistaken? Was it not Rose after all? As he listened to the rain, lost in these thoughts, he had somehow fallen asleep.
Startled, he sat up.
For a moment, he thought he saw her sitting in the chair opposite him.
"Rose?" He called out as he ran to the front door.
A cold wind was blowing through the house. The door was open. Christopher looked outside from there. He searched for Rose's car but saw only the increasing heavy rain.