[Silent Hill Stylee.] Feb 2, 2013 20:51:13 GMT -5
Post by UlrichAcheronNacht on Feb 2, 2013 20:51:13 GMT -5
[Silent Hill Stylee]
“Welcome to Silent Hill,” The words peered back at her through the photograph as a chill ran up her spine. Annabelle hadn't seen that side of the sign in a dozen years, just the foreboding message on the other side: “You are never leaving Silent Hill.”
Anna crumpled up the photograph and tossed it out of the ramshackle house, along with the unpleasant memories that clung to it. She had lived in Silent Hill before ash fell from the sky, in the days before 'the Darkness' came and the world around Silent Hill crumbled away.
She left the room, having found nothing of interest aside from the photograph. The woman pulled on her blue denim jacket's sleeves and blew one of her long, golden locks out of her face. Her worn boots no longer clacked as she stepped down the stairs – she missed that old, nostalgic sound.
Anna leaned out of the shattered window and glanced at both sides of the alley: nothing. She pushed her lithe form over the windowsill and took a left – she came from the right, so she was going to take a different course. The lonesome lady's fingertips found themselves toying with the hem of her black skirt. She was feeling a little nervous, her hand almost delved into her jacket.
It was the fog. As long as it remained, Anna could never overcome it. It always unnerved her. The stench of sulfur burned her nostrils with every breath she took, a result from the ash cascading from the cloudy skies. But she could and would handle it, as always. Trekking through the mining town's scorched carcass appealed to her more than dealing with the religious zealots that led most of the survivors of Silent Hill. Even if it meant a lack of safety.
She tenderly took hold of her eyeglasses and lifted them away from her porcelain-hued face and wiped them on her white undershirt. The lenses acted as if they held the fog tight to their structure, making it almost impossible for her to see.
The distinctive sound of boot against wood sounded out to her right, causing her to instinctively look. Anna was able to make out a suited duo through the haze, one held a bird and they both held what looked like long, peculiar rods. Servants of the false prophet from the church, the ones that hunted people down in their air-proofed suits.
She slunk behind a nearby wall to keep herself out of sight, cursing their very presence. With her back to the wall, she proceeded to move away from the men. Unfortunately, Anna's fingers lost their grip on her eyeglasses and the sound of shattering lenses was loud enough to be heard by the pair.
Of course that happens.
“Hey!” A voice called through some sort of ventilated distortion, “Who's there?”
She didn't answer, but heard the rapid footsteps coming up the alley. As they rounded the corner, the servants were met with the muzzle of a Colt .45 staring them in the face. “Stop,” Anna growled, with her finger wrapped around the trigger. She was grateful that a police officer died with it fully loaded. She had yet to expend a round, but she knew it would prove to be valuable.
Thankfully, the men halted as ordered. The woman wasn't a murderer, but she wouldn't hesitate to kill them. But did they know that? Now, Anna could make out the rods – they were actually candlesticks clasping candles that had been lit. Part of her wondered how effective they were against 'the Darkness' and its minions. Maybe they're blessed or something...
“What do you want?” Annabelle demanded, “Another follower? Or another sacrifice?”
“Shut your mouth, you wh-”
The man holding the cage was interrupted by the pigeon's squawking.
The air sirens on the church sounded off.
The sky went dark and ash ceased cascading down from above. With the fog gone, she had less trouble seeing; the encroaching darkness had always blinded others, but never Anna. As if it was an extra skin, concrete began to peel off of buildings, revealing the iron bears and sheets of metal beneath. It was like an old factory made of rusted metal, the scent assailed her nostrils and she tasted it in the air.
Suddenly, the gun felt heavy in her hand, as if a stone had sunk in her stomach and weighed her hand down. She lost her grip and righted it, accidentally pulling the trigger back in the process.
The pistol bucked back, as the .45 round flew from the barrel. The sound of gunfire was proceeded by the slug soaring through one of their heads, creating a penny or nickel-sized hole in his forehead while doing so. Anna took a step back and gulped. I killed a man. Instead of dwelling on it, she ran out of the alley, leaving the other to his fate.
It was here and she had to keep away from Its minions. Taking a deep breath, Anna continued her pace down the street of rusted metal. The sirens were blaring behind her, encouraging her to continue her frenzied pace. One word gripped her mind: Survive.
The sirens stopped, but she heard him, instead. Heavy footsteps and the eerie screech of metal on metal announced his God-forsaken presence. Her own footsteps came to a halt as she panted for breath, the gun still in-hand. She detested running.
Anna craned her head around, witnessing the behemoth of a man. He had muscles bulged from his grayish flesh and his right hand dragged an enormous kitchen knife along the iron 'ground.' He wore a gigantic iron helmet shaped like a pyramid filled with slits; the helmet covered his head and neck completely, making his appearance even more terrifying. He only wore ragged, torn pants, exposing the rest of his almost-inhuman form. His arms hung limply, as if he lacked the will to lift or move them.
She'd only seen Pyramid Head once: He had lifted a girl by the neck and wrenched her clothes from her writhing form; he then grabbed the girl's breast and yanked her skin free of her body and threw the bloody flesh suit at the church's door while they closed. As it struck the doors, blood showered them, along with everything it could within the doors' crevice.
Pyramid Head was definitely the most dangerous minion of 'the Darkness.' His presence frightened Anna phenomenally. She took a step back and aimed the Colt .45 at his chest and fired two rounds off. The slugs bore through his flesh and blood wasn't what exited the wounds. Of course it isn't... Swarms of baseball-sized cockroaches crawled out of the holes. They crawled down Pyramid Head's body and scurried towards her. Anna panicked, so her trigger finger went wild, letting a trio of rounds off. More cockroaches flooded out, as well as from the other wounds. Anna's voice sounded nervous and frail to her ears as she asked the monster if he could die.
But he didn't answer.
She heard the man from earlier screaming for the daemon to die. She recognized the voice, because it was the same one that told her to stop earlier.
Annabelle only heard her frenzied footsteps bearing down on the metal beneath her.
The squelch of metal bearing through flesh echoed from behind her.
The man began to scream like a little girl. Like how Anna almost screamed.
Are the cockroaches eating him..? She spotted another alley and ducked into it.
She heard meat being hacked apart over her deep breaths, as the screams died away.
Anna walked down the alley, her free hand holding her stomach as she took her long, deep breaths. She lifted the hand and held herself against the metal frame into the building. It was dark and eerie, but she had no other choice for shelter.
She shut her eyes and took in another breath.
When she opened them, everything was restored. She was standing in the living room of another ramshackle house. She plopped down on the couch as her eyelids began to droop.
Annabelle spent another lonesome night surviving the horrors of Silent Hill.