The Place Of Silenced Spirits

The sound of metal gliding upon metal is muted by a mix of chatter and music. Industrial lights flicker above the heads of the passengers, leaving the train dark for one...two seconds at a time. At 5:23 in the evening, there is quite the variety of people heading to unknown places: business men and women with worn-out faces, a few college students with bags strapped across their bodies, the occasional elderly with their canes leaning on the arm-rests. With each bump on the track, bodies are rattled and strands of hair fall onto faces.

She sits, nestled between a man with a cellphone attached to his left ear and a young woman with a book in her hands; The Lost World by Arthur Conan Doyle. The title seems familiar, yet she can't remember where she ever saw it.

Her hands, with fingernails painted black, are clenched into fists in her pockets. It's unusually chilly for October. She releases one fist and retrieves it to sweep the cropped, raven strands off her face. Doing so reveals more of her face: angular, pale and slightly discoloured under the eyes. Dark freckles and scars dot her cheeks and nose, like paint splatters on a canvas.

The train stops, and people scurry out. With a sudden jolt, it continues on its journey.

Outside, the sun is hidden by thick clouds of gray, hinting that there may be a thunderstorm on the horizon. It's quite dreary, really. She watches the world become a blur from the window across, as trees become green-gray splotches and the city skyline moves further and further away.

Her puffy eyelids begin to droop. She fights the urge to sleep by pinching herself and snapping the bracelet on her wrist, but it's too strong. Her body gives in, and she slouches down in her seat. Which side should she lay her head on? To the right toward the business man, or to the left towards the bookworm?

Bookworm it is.

-

With no warning, her body springs to life. Her eyelids flutter open to an empty subway car, lights still flickering above. Looking outside the windows reveals nothing but black. Her heart skips a beat. How come nobody woke her up?

She fears the worst and looks at her wrist to check the time. The antique wristwatch has no arms.

Confusion and panic wash over her like an arctic tide. Rising to her feet she begins to walk around aimlessly and her bag bounces off her hip. The flickering of the lights becomes more erratic. The one directly above her head explodes and sends sparks flying above her head. She screams, covering her head with her arms and falling to the floor with a thud.

She tries to breathe, but each gasp of air comes out shaky and full of fear. Her head slowly rises and her body soon follows. The thick wires that powered the light now hang, like snakes from trees, sizzling and sparkling behind her.

"Is this a dream?" She wonders out loud.

The subway stops with a hard jolt. Her feet lose balance and her hands reach out for a bar to grab onto, but she ends up on the floor once again. All sounds in the subway cease, save for her heavy breathing and the crackling of the wires. That is, until something smashes the very end door of the car. She screams and throws her arms over her head to shield it from the flying glass shards.

The sound of metal scraping causes her to spin around and come face-to-face with a grotesque, disfigured...thing. It resembles a human, but a bloody brown sack on its head disguises what it really looks like. The scraping is coming from the two tonfa-like weapons it holds in its hands, also bloody and covered in peeling rust. It's dressed horribly in a bloodied apron and corduroy pants that are ripped all over. It gurgles and screeches as it scrapes its weapons together.

Her heart stops and her eyes widen. As she scrambles to her feet her hands press on the shards of glass, sending a trickle of blood onto the floor in tiny drops. She gasps and curses, but a mere cut is the least of her problems.

It begins to move towards her, twitching its head while continuing to scrape its arms. She panics and glances around her to find something to defend herself with. All the glass pieces are too small to do any damage to the monster approaching her. She begins to tremble and her knees are about to give-way.

It screams and lifts both of its arms, ready to swing them at her.

She looks up and sees the bar that runs down the length of the subway. She eyes the monster, waiting for the moment that it strikes for her to make her move. Her hand reaches for the strap on her bag and she drops it on the floor.

A glimmer of light shines off the steel blades as they come down on her, but at the last moment, she springs up and grabs the bar with both hands. Tucking her body up, she manages to avoid the deadly double swing, and not a moment too soon she lowers her legs and positions either foot on each side of the monster's head.

A bone-shattering crack echos through the car. A thud and an agonizing shriek of pain follow.

She lets go of the bar and lands on her feet. A sigh of relief escapes past her lips. Her heart is beating out of her chest and her lungs are straining themselves trying to get more oxygen into her.

"What is this thing?" She breathes, staring down at it in disgust. A cold sweat drips down her temples and her hair sticks to her head, tickling the back of her neck slightly. She turns around to pick her bag up off the floor, but an abrupt start of the subway car sends her to the ground on her knees, lodging a few glass shards into both knees. She shrieks in pain.

Another shriek, but it doesn't come from her. She widens her eyes in surprise and tries to turn around.

The sound of bones crushing, skin tearing, organs puncturing and blood dripping drowns the car for one... two seconds.

-

A bump shakes her entire body and wakes her. She jumps up, breathing heavily. Without thought she reaches for her mouth and checks for blood. It's completely dry. Everything's dry. Well, except for her head and torso, where a cold sweat broke out. Her dark hair clings to her temples and her clothes stick to her body like second skin. Next she looks at her hands and knees. No cuts, no shards of glass lodged painfully in her skin. She lets out a long sigh and rubs her forehead.

People are staring at her. Eyebrows furrowed together, they eye her up and down with caution. She shook and mumbled in her sleep, catching the attention of almost every passenger. Friends whisper to each other, still keeping one eye on her so not to miss her next move. She tries to ignore the sting of stares.

She looks around at first to make sure she's actually awake. She checks the light that exploded and is relieved that it's still working, although flickering like the rest. She checks the back door and the ground for any shards of glass. The door is intact and the ground is spotless, save for fliers and garbage. She slinks back in her seat.

Without looking, she can tell the businessman and bookworm are especially startled. They've shifted an entire inch away and are facing away from her, trying to carry on what they're doing. She doesn't particularly mind though.

Then, she worries. She worries if she's missed her stop, since she has no idea how long she's slept for.

The subway begins to slow down. She glances out the window to check the station, hoping that this is her stop. The wall reads Bergen Street, and a sigh of relief escapes her lips. She rises to her feet and waits for the subway doors to open. Looking through the door, she notices that there's actually nobody in the station.

As she walks off the subway and onto the station, she looks over her shoulder to watch the subway leave. She stands, with a blank face, wondering if she just imagined everything. No. Everything was too vivid and too real to just be a daydream.

She breathes another sigh, this one is more drawn out and heavy. Fatigue wraps around her, squeezing the life out of her.

She turns to head for the stairs.

"Alice."

Her heart jumps and nearly loses her footing when she finds someone standing a mere foot behind her. She draws in a sharp breath and gasps, and steps back.

A man in long, dark, tattered robes stands and watches her recoil. A hood matching the robes covers his head, creating shadows that hide his eyes. An unkempt beard lines his jaw. There's something in his hands, something that looks like a book of sorts.

"Don't be afraid. We've been looking for you for a very long time. I didn't expect to find you in Maine, we all thought you would have moved somewhere much farther away. But we are not complaining. We are thankful, blessed, that you are still so close." He speaks in a cryptic tone, with a hint of familiarity. She looks at him, confused.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She asks impatiently. He raises his head, revealing his dark eyes.

"The time will come when you remember. I cannot blame you for forgetting everything, it's been nearly eight decades. Take this book. Reading it should help you remember. You must remember, Alice. Your true self, and that which you must become." His eyes stare unblinkingly into hers. He thrusts the book at her, sending the dust on it into the air.

She stares at it for one...two seconds. The cover is a faded burgundy, with an intricate symbol drawn on the front. Soon she takes it from his hands, and realizes how heavy the book actually is.

"When you are done," He begins again, prompting her to lift her head and look at him, "you must come to the place where it all begins..."

Suddenly, the same symbol that's drawn on the book cover appears on the ground. A red light shines through the lines, and a large hole appears in the center where the cloaked man is standing. The ground begins to tremble.

"In the town of Silent Hill."

"Wait!" She demands, but he is already being sucked into the ground. A powerful stream of air emits from the hole and she covers her face. She watches in disbelief, and begins to think that she's still dreaming. He looks up at her, now only a torso, and shines a sly grin at her. His teeth are in bad shape, she notes.

He is gone.

As the symbol on the ground begins to disappear, she looks down at the book once more. Lifting the cover, the first page shows to be a painting of a woman holding a child. The woman looks like an angel, wearing a long white robe and a halo on her head. As she studies the woman's face, she feels her head beginning to throb. She gasps quietly, and rubs her temples. The painting seems too familiar to her.

She closes the book and slides it into her bag, before finally heading for the staircase.