Silent Hill: Spiritual Dissonance (Horror)

[Noctros]

Hopefully I don't get in trouble for this, since this is an original fanfic.

See, I love Silent Hill. It is a video game series that explores the psychological aspects in the human mind, using horror to bring revelations about oneself. Unlike a majority of fanfics I've seen, I do not use pre-established characters. All of my characters are original, I merely use some locations. I expand on the town's mythos, putting up my own take.

While this may be a fanfic, I do plan on trying to get it published as a book. Along with hopefully in Video game form (One of the reasons I'm in the business).

Anyhow, I digress.

Here is the prologue.
================

An isolated Moon illuminates the sky above the quiet, small town of Silent Hill. An old black mustang glides upon the pavement of the interstate road. The headlights penetrate the darkness, allowing the driver to make out some visibility. The man steering this mechanical contraption is slowly being consumed by his own fatigue. Having endured fifteen hours of driving through an unknown number of miles, passing countless road lights, and barely remembering the blurs that were the cars he has passed. His eyes close many times, the siren's call of sleep trying to reel him in. But he perseveres through the want, knowing that the time for rest will be available soon. Following his GPS, he takes a right and goes down the exit into Silent Hill.


As he drives down the road, he turns on his mp3 player, putting on a music track to help him cope with the journey into Silent Hill. He taps his finger to the tune as it plays, enjoying the warm notes of the music. He then drives through a small bridge with a tunnel over it, passing through it quickly and entering Midway Avenue. As he drives across the street, he notices people out on the sidewalks, either walking to some unknown destination or just strolling about. The scent of saw dust faintly touches his nose as he passes by, vaguely reminding him of better days. A time when he was close to his father, enjoying woodworking itself due to having a fondness for creating objects. But now, those days seem so distant from the present.


After stopping at a red light and watching a couple cars pass by, the man continues on his silent voyage. But as quickly as he passes the turn into Canyon Street, he stops. He is enveloped in nostalgia as he notices a sight he hasn't glanced upon in years. The pet shop his grandfather ran, back when the man was young. He turns off his engine and gets out of the car, closing the door out of habit. He walks up to the door of the shop, seeing the owner closing up and coming towards the entrance. He is too busy remembering bygone days to notice her, touching the window glass. The middle-aged woman opens the door and walks through it, stopping next to the man and asking "Anything I can help you with before I go home sir?"
The man is thrust out of his memories by the woman's words, replying "Ah…no. I'm sorry; this shop just reminded me of my grandfathers back in Ashfield…" reflecting quite the doleful expression.


"But there hasn't been a pet shop in Ashfield for years." trails off the lady
"Didn't say I've been there recently ma'am" counters the man respectfully
"Oh…I'm sorry, I didn't realize who you referred to. It has been so long since that dark day, that I've nearly forgotten it…" the woman looking down at the ground, ashamed of her daftness. But the man just smiles "Don't dwell on it, it has been quite some time ma'am, I wouldn't expect anyone but my fellow family members to remember Papa Steve".
"The entire spree itself was chaotic, what was worse is that I knew little Walter. He was such an innocent man; I still don't understand what compelled him to kill all those people." Reminisces the woman
"I heard he killed himself out of guilt, blaming the entire thing on some strange red devil. Whatever was the case, he didn't seem mentally normal. I don't blame him, I just hope he finds peace in the afterlife" states the man, pitting Walter Sullivan.
"As do I. Well, this has been a nice, if a bit sad, chat. Good day…" begins the lady, "Garland."
"Ah, have a good day Mr.Garland. I hope you enjoy our quiet little town." Replies the lady as she turns around and leaves. Mr. Garland takes one last look at the Pet store, seeing the name "Veronica's Friends" on the window glass as he starts walking back to his car. He then drives off from the pet store, taking a left turn onto Crichton Street and another one onto Riverside Street before pulling into the parking lot of the Riverside Motel.


Mr. Garland steps out of his mustang, closing the door and going to the back to get his spare clothes. Once he acquires them, he shuts the door and locks the car doors. With that done, Mr. Garland walks his way to the reception office and enters through the door. Inside, the interior is rather homely. Green carpet lines the floor below a lone ceiling fan, spinning moderately as time passes by. Mr. Garland walks to the receptionist, waving casually "Any rooms left?" "Yeah, name?" questions the man behind the counter. "Garland. John Garland". "Alright Mr. Garland, here's your key, room is near the pool, 104, can't miss it." Explains the receptionist, John nods in appreciation and exits the office. He manages to find his way to the pool, noticing the faint glimmer of moon light reflecting off of the surface of the aqua blue water.


Afterwards, he locates his apartment and unlocks the door, entering his apartment. He turns on the light, throwing his clothes onto his bed as he takes off his coat. He takes in a deep, long breath and sighs. What could this town really offer him in regards to closure? Last time he was here, Liasah disappeared while he was left stupefied with a bleeding forehead. This town, from what he knows, doesn't have a good history, especially for his bloodline. His aunt, alongside a good number of the staff, disappeared shortly after he was born. The last thing his mother heard from her sister was in a letter asking her for money. After she disappeared, his grandfather wasn't the same. Depression fits hit him constantly, but from his young age, John could never tell that the happy, playful man his grandpa Steve seemed to be, was really a ruse to keep his family from worrying.


When he was killed by that poor man, it hit the family hard. John's mother sank into her own sadness, while his father tried his best to make her happy. Time passed, but old wounds never truly seal and as such, his mother never really recovered. She was always nice, always making time for John and his sister Jana, but as he grew older, John could see the sorrow perpetrating throughout her frail being. When he told his family where he was going, they were adamantly against it. Bringing up various examples to try and dissuade him, but in the end, he couldn't be swayed. Before he left though, his mother kissed him goodbye and told him to be safe.


He carefully takes off his clothes as he heads into the shower, hoping for some solace in the relaxing embrace of its warm water. He gets just that, afterwards he cleans up and puts on his undergarments. After drying his hair, he locks the door to the outside and closes the curtains, not wishing for any disruptions. He turns on the television as he lies down upon the bed, having placed his clothes on a nearby chair. After watching for an hour or so, John turns it off. As he gazes into the darkness above him, he silently wishes for some closure as he nods off and slips into a deep slumber
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Thank you for your time.

~Noctros

[hillwalker]

An interesting idea, and I can't imagine you getting in trouble for borrowing a fictionalised location. Much less than if you tried to write a story about Harry Potter and get it published.

As for what we have here, it struck me from the start that you have made an effort to describe everything that's happening, and in doing so painted a rather lifeless portrait of small-town Americana. You pay far too much attention to trivial detail which gives the reader no clue as to what he or she is meant to focus upon.

My advice would be to trim this down by 50% at least - the story will lose nothing by this drastic action but it will be easier to read and is more likely to maintain the reader's interest. There's also more chance of getting published if you have done the pre-editing yourself.

For example your opening paragraph is cluttered with unnecessary words/sentences:

- stringing 2 adjectives together is over-writing unless it's absolutely essential -

quiet, small town and old black Mustang suggests the writer is desperate to fill the page rather than clarify the scene

The headlights penetrate the darkness, allowing the driver to make out some visibility.
made me laugh put loud - what other purpose could headlights serve. This sentence tells us nothing new so leave it out.

The man steering this mechanical contraption is slowly being consumed by his own fatigue

is just a horribly long-winded way of saying 'the driver was growing tired' - again needlessly complicating things is a sign of desperation

Having endured fifteen hours of driving through an unknown number of miles, passing countless road lights...

- again - rather a clumsy way of telling us how monotonous the journey was.

Having driven for fifteen hours - countless miles, countless road lights... tells us exactly the same thing, and repeating the word 'countless' actually adds to the feeling of monotonousness which you were trying to impart.

His eyes close many times, the siren's call of sleep trying to reel him in. But he perseveres through the want, knowing that the time for rest will be available soon.

is very good - more of the same please...

I could go on paragraph by paragraph -

As he drives across the street, he notices people out on the sidewalks, either walking to some unknown destination or just strolling about.

- does the underlined bit add anything to the scenario? If not, it seems a rather pointless observation to make.

My final bit of advice, second-rate B movies always waste reels of film showing the main character getting out of his car, closing the door ('out of habit'?????), getting his case out of the trunk, closing the lid, locking the car, entering the hotel reception, climbing the stairs, unlocking the door to his room, closing it once he's inside, switching on the light, placing his case on the bed, etc. etc. You have managed to do a fairly good job of copying the style, but I'm guessing it wasn't done as a tongue-in-cheek homage to this kind of film.

4 words - Cut To The Chase. The reader doesn't need to know every single movement your character made. Telling us he found a hotel is probably enough for most readers to be able to fill the blanks in for themselves regarding the sequence of events.

This isn't at all bad because you have a certain flair, but you really do need to reduce it into something more readable. The section of dialogue and one or two descriptive parts suggest this can be salvaged and improved upon with some ruthless slashing and burning.

good luck

H

[Panglossian]

I remember playing Silent Hill 2 many years ago. Great game.

Just on the vibe of the piece, not the actual writing, I can imagine this being the decent intro sequence to a Silent Hill game. The nostalgic thoughts and feelings of Mr Garland (perhaps with grainy flashback footage merging in and out); the slightly disquieting conversation with the old woman shopkeeper; everything subdued yet seemingly normal ... Yes I can imagine it.

I suspect you would (first and foremost) want to turn this into a video-game rather than a novel..?

[Noctros]

Quite so. Which is likely why the prologue seemed a tad bit overly-descriptive.
To be honest, if I had to choose, I'd likely pick the video game industry, due to how I've basically always played video games (since age 2). But I'm just rambling.

I thank you both for your inputs, especially you hillwalker.
In regards to the mentioning of passing people: I wanted to show that the town isn't always a desolate town. See in Silent Hill the Video Game series, the game takes place in a realm outside of reality, one that is similar to Purgatory of various religions. One thing I want to show with this book/future game, is that it is quite the normal town in reality.

It is likely why I am so descriptive: I want this to be a video game one day too. But I can assure you, I focus attention on John instantly in the following pages. This prologue was just to place the setting, describe it for the curious, and set up how he got there.

~Noctros

[libernaut]

An interesting idea, and I can't imagine you getting in trouble for borrowing a fictionalised location. Much less than if you tried to write a story about Harry Potter and get it published.

As for what we have here, it struck me from the start that you have made an effort to describe everything that's happening, and in doing so painted a rather lifeless portrait of small-town Americana. You pay far too much attention to trivial detail which gives the reader no clue as to what he or she is meant to focus upon.

My advice would be to trim this down by 50% at least - the story will lose nothing by this drastic action but it will be easier to read and is more likely to maintain the reader's interest. There's also more chance of getting published if you have done the pre-editing yourself.

For example your opening paragraph is cluttered with unnecessary words/sentences:

- stringing 2 adjectives together is over-writing unless it's absolutely essential -

quiet, small town and old black Mustang suggests the writer is desperate to fill the page rather than clarify the scene

The headlights penetrate the darkness, allowing the driver to make out some visibility.
made me laugh put loud - what other purpose could headlights serve. This sentence tells us nothing new so leave it out.

The man steering this mechanical contraption is slowly being consumed by his own fatigue

is just a horribly long-winded way of saying 'the driver was growing tired' - again needlessly complicating things is a sign of desperation

Having endured fifteen hours of driving through an unknown number of miles, passing countless road lights...

- again - rather a clumsy way of telling us how monotonous the journey was.

Having driven for fifteen hours - countless miles, countless road lights... tells us exactly the same thing, and repeating the word 'countless' actually adds to the feeling of monotonousness which you were trying to impart.

His eyes close many times, the siren's call of sleep trying to reel him in. But he perseveres through the want, knowing that the time for rest will be available soon.

is very good - more of the same please...

I could go on paragraph by paragraph -

As he drives across the street, he notices people out on the sidewalks, either walking to some unknown destination or just strolling about.

- does the underlined bit add anything to the scenario? If not, it seems a rather pointless observation to make.

My final bit of advice, second-rate B movies always waste reels of film showing the main character getting out of his car, closing the door ('out of habit'?????), getting his case out of the trunk, closing the lid, locking the car, entering the hotel reception, climbing the stairs, unlocking the door to his room, closing it once he's inside, switching on the light, placing his case on the bed, etc. etc. You have managed to do a fairly good job of copying the style, but I'm guessing it wasn't done as a tongue-in-cheek homage to this kind of film.

4 words - Cut To The Chase. The reader doesn't need to know every single movement your character made. Telling us he found a hotel is probably enough for most readers to be able to fill the blanks in for themselves regarding the sequence of events.

This isn't at all bad because you have a certain flair, but you really do need to reduce it into something more readable. The section of dialogue and one or two descriptive parts suggest this can be salvaged and improved upon with some ruthless slashing and burning.

good luck

H

I agree with most of this, you could definitely cut the fat.

I wouldn't go as far as to point out any particular sentence but I do think you could do with less repeating adjectives. I mean, really it's a great story and you've got a great tone for it, but with what actually happens it could be half the length. Or twice the length with a lot more going on. inner monologue etc.

I'd like to see less attention to exterior detail and more attention to what's going on with the character(s).

I've never played silent hill but always kind of looked at it with an interest, from a distance. I've never been too into video games, but this definitely seems like a good one.

Anyways, I know videogames, are mainly in 3 dimensions (sometimes 2, lol @ mario 1) but what can you do, with the element of putting it into writing, do to add a 4th and maybe further dimensions to the game?

[libernaut]

And yes, we all saw him get out of the car,close the door, beep it and double beep it etc. Do we really need to? couldn't he just go from driving, and thinking with an inner monologue or whatever, to just being at his destination in the next scene? Perhaps end with a chapter break where he comes upon some conclusion in his thoughts about something or someone or comes across a decision to be made, some suspense.

[Noctros]

Please pardon me if I sound rude, but since the initial criticisms, I have went back and altered the prologue posted here, to a more suitable version. Better read, focused more on the characters. But, I do appreciate the advice. I can guarantee that the following chapters are less like the prologue, which was solely that descriptive in order to establish the setting.

~Efrit

[Noctros]

Here's the first chapter, about 1,222 words in length.
Please let me know if I am using Purple prose (In a bad way).
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The night passes as dawn's light breaks through its shroud. John awakens shortly after this has occurred, being accustomed to waking up on his own. Though disoriented momentarily due to a long rest, the fog clouding his mind soon dissipates as he goes to the bathroom and splashes hot water onto his face. He takes his time as he puts on his clothing, trying to watch some T.V. as he does so, but only receiving static on the set. While this perplexes John, since it was working fine last night, he just shrugs it off and gathers his things. As he opens the door to the outside, he is hit with a full visual blast of mist. He walks out into the open, trying hard to see through the thick haze but finding his efforts to be impeded by the shear mass of the fog. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before settling on trying to make his way through the mist, slowly yet surely, in order to get to the receptionist.

The first thing he notices as he further strays from his temporary abode is that the water in the pool has disappeared. As he comes closer to inspect this mysterious phenomenon, he is pushed into the pool by some invisible force and lands stomach first on the concrete of the pool's floor. It takes him a moment to pull himself together before flipping over to his back and looking at where he used to be, trying to see who or what may have pushed him "Hello, is anyone there?".
But no one responds, his words echoing out into the open air as he lies there. He motions to stand, but his hand hits something metallic. He looks behind him to see what it is, coming across the head of a shovel. Bewildered by this, he grabs hold of it and grasps the accompanying handle of the shovel. Using it as a tool, he helps himself up and further ponders why the shovel was inside the pool.

Deciding to not waste any more time on such a trivial matter, John exits the pool and heads for the gate that leads to the transitional area, taking the shovel with him in case of trouble. Once pass the gate, John makes his way towards the back entrance to the receptionist. On his way, he notices how the area is eerily quiet. No crickets chirping, no birds singing, not even the occasional sounds of motorists passing by are heard. Just silence, as if someone had sucked the life out of the land. When he arrives at the door, he knocks to be courteous but as his knuckle strikes the door, it opens up.
"Hello? Sir, are you in here?" says John as he slowly moves through the threshold of the door, but no one responds. He notices a faint glow of light in the corner of his right eye, emanating from underneath a blanket near the cash register. He hesitates for a moment, unsure of what to do since he may be committing theft, but he proceeds anyway. He finds a flashlight, similar to the one a fireman would use.

As he clips it onto the front pocket of his jacket, his ears pick up soft footsteps creeping behind him and he turns around, noticing a faint shadow move out of his sight. He starts to utter out a soft hello, but is stopped when he hears laughter from behind. He turns around in a sharp motion, but once more finds nothing. Not even with the help of his new flashlight could he find anything. It's as if someone is playing a joke on him, constantly toying with his mind. He moves to the main area of the reception office, trying to see if there was some hidden speaker but he finds nothing. His elbows are racked with goose bumps as he stands alone inside the office, feeling on-edge due to the dreadful ambiance. The silent atmosphere is broken at once by a sorrowful sobbing, John moving his head towards the sound as it permeates throughout the seemingly vacant office.

He cautiously makes his way towards the door to the management, unsure of what may await him. His experience so far has led him to doubt his very senses, but he has hope that he may find another soul in this empty place. As he opens the door, the sobbing becomes more audible. When he looks inside, his heart warms up when he sees another human being, a sobbing young woman.
"Ms. Are you okay?" questions John as he walks towards her, but he stops when he notices the air getting extremely hot. He starts to ask another question, but stops and starts stepping backwards when he notices the woman's hair beginning to fall off in clumps. She rises as if she was nothing more than a puppet, the strings being all that support her. As she twists around in an inhumanly manor, her bones crack like leaves under a boot, her sobbing becoming shriller and shriller as each movement racks her body with unimaginable pain.

John's eyes open in shock as the woman's skin darkens to a charcoal black, all possible fat melting off in a disgusting miasma. The stench of the dissipating fat causes his stomach to lurch suddenly, sickening John as he continues to back away, stupefied. Suddenly, The Inflamed Lady lets out a horrendous shriek and hurls out a stream of flames at John, who responds by rolling to the left, through the door, and back into the reception office. His heart pounds within his chest at the sudden intrusion of violence, but he manages to keep a clear mind and focuses on tactics. He closes the door before The Inflamed Lady could get close enough, hiding to the right of the door with shovel in hand. It is not long before flames burst through the door, the creature limping rapidly through the threshold of the door. John slams the shovel's head right into the creatures face, throwing it onto its back and scattering pieces of skin across the floor. Reacting swiftly, John takes the shovel and slams the sharp end onto the neck of The Inflamed Lady, decapitating the creature and ending the threat to his well-being.

All John can do for a short period of time is look at the remains of the abnormal beast. How its expression is mired in pain, its body a visual expression of the torment it felt in existence itself. He finally decides to leave the remains behind after a few moments, venturing further into the office to see if anything may be there. It is behind the desk that he catches sight of a grisly scene: The remains of what seems to be the receptionist who he last saw a night ago, torn apart by something sharp and the insides charred throughout his body. John notices a map on the man's person, but hesitates due to a fear of disrespecting the dead. In the end, he decides to take the map, opening it up to see "Midwich University" circled. Confused, John places the map in his left pocket and leaves the area. Heading towards the parking lot, he hopes to escape this nightmare.

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~Noctros