10

In my restless dreams I see that town. Silent Hill. You promised me you’d take me there again someday. But you never did.

- Mary Shepherd-Sunderland in Mary’s Letter, Silent Hill 2

2

He knew there was no one coming to save him.

So he remained bound in night, witnessing the scream and the blood and the impact of flesh on stone. He knew he should struggle, knew he had struggled in those final seconds before the collar of black stone had clamped around his neck.

But there was a thing waiting in the darkness, and he could not bring himself to fight it for much longer.

4

We ultimately fear what spawns from within us. 

Shinsekai Yori (2012)

mysterious little towns

- headlights cutting through fog like thin sheens of ice, the darkness pressing against your car windows, settling into your mouth, escaping through every rattled breath, driving down some disturbing route you took a wrong turn on, the highway lost in the jigsaw puzzle stretch of land behind you, nocturnal animals watch you from the shrubbery, their eyes like red, yellow, brown bruises, the trees here seem to whisper to you.

- veins leaping out of your skin, the soulless eyes of hitchhikers on cross country roads, you stop by a gas station lit like a zombie apocalypse, a stale hotdog and frosty beer at the moonlit diner for half the price you pay in the city, suspicious dark blotches on the waitress’ blouse, a smile like a knife to the throat, your heart flooding.

- an empty playground, houses that seem to weep silently, strange lights in the sky, a newspaper always headlining inexplainable deaths & animal maulings, a black sedan, men in suits, that unshakable feeling like you’re being followed, shrill disembodied screams reverberating from the parking lot; crawling into your ribcage like spiders that hollow you out, you close your eyes & pretend you’re safe as if sleep won’t invite other nightmares.

- the lady at your doorstep attempting to sell you cursed objects, the occultist symbols painted on your door, the little boy with a hole in his head, yard sales of ancient objects and dolls with eyes like wolves in the night.

- ritualistic chanting, the kid who killed himself on the bridge, ravens flocking the skies like dark, bloodied stars, a pet cat that crawled out of its own grave, a moon silver and wraithlike, the man on the radio speaking directly to you, a warning to be aware of witchcraft and voodoo.

- days that stick to your teeth like bubblegum, nights that feel like they’re burying you alive, a latched door slowly creaking open, a piano’s melody swimming through your ears even though you don’t own a piano, the old lady next door who tells you stories about a wedding that never happened, your knuckles choking white, a painting on the wall that seems to change position everytime you look at it.

- a perpetual roller coaster ride, getting lost in a labyrinth of funhouse mirrors, watching blood soak your favorite jumper, a boy watching you from under the blanket of shadows, poltergeists trashing your bedroom when you get back, spilled tea on the floor, a face that looks like yours; but you’re not so sure anymore.