Ashes and GhostMature

Into the vast nothingness of Silent Hill was perhaps the last haven of purgatory. One sole man was running through the impenetrable fog with only one thought on his decayed mind; completion. He was not disturbed as he descended even further into obscurity... which he seemed to recognize so well. The fog was becoming denser; as though it was swallowing the town. The buildings; the vehicles; even the road itself was fading into a sea of white.

But he continued with purpose. He had a job to do.

His memories jarred within his mind further increasing his doubt. He couldn’t even remember his name... his family (if he had a family) just one person who stood in his mind amongst the shadows. His anger at this person boiled inside his heart; hatred contorted his perception of the person he was. He knew who this person was... but that particular thought had submerged within his mind. Like where he had came from... and why he was here. A large wound upon his forehead still abound in a fusillade of blood was an indication of what had happened. But he couldn’t remember. Blinding images of that ‘person’ only fuelled his rage and enticed him to spiral within Silent Hill.

At odd intervals, he would cross over to a different street to reveal a different block. He was leaving the countless shops and markets to find himself in the residential areas. He could only tell where he was by straining his eyes to see the typical homes with the garages and the crudely painted kennels on each lawn.

He needed something. A glimmer of recognition filtered through his mind, as he wandered to one particular house which somewhat stood out from the rest. He stepped forwards slowly, unsure of what lay beyond the front door.
Similar to the other houses the other houses he had past, there was the obligatory kennel upon the lawn. He moved closer, seeing a small figure within the confines.

He knew what it was, even why it was in such a state.

It was a dog; long after death. It’s flesh was torn from its body; cradled by the furious pool of crimson which was splattered upon the kennel itself. Not one thought of sadness or empathy crossed his mind.

The person who haunted his mind will suffer a similar fate.

In an instant, he walked towards to plain white door of the house which was already stood ajar. A silver gleam caught his eye, as he saw a knife glinting on the floor in the hallway.

He stepped over to pick it up, not regarding the derelict state of the house.

Droplets of red smudged the knifes blade; but he was more drawn to the handle.

The letter ‘A’ had been carved for all to see.

The End

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