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~HOMETOWN~ (Chapter 12)

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~Hometown~(Chapter 12)



"Regarding that, Mr. Culpa...It's time we had a little talk...."

I stepped into Doctor Roivas' office which looked exactly like it did in my dream and sat on the leather couch, trying my very best not to quiver. It all comes down to this, of that much I am certain. I watched him close the office door, compose himself, and clear his throat. He slowly walked over to the leather chair opposite of the couch and sat down with his hands folded.
"Mr. Culpa, do you know why you have been brought here today?", he asked in an authoritative, yet caring tone. This guy, whoever he is, truly wanted to help me. "Um...well, I mean, I think I do.", I answered as I stared at my shoes. "But....I don't know how to explain it. It's like, my mind knows, but I can't remember consciously."
I took a deep breath and asked the question that I was so afraid to ask; "An...Andrew is not here, is he?"
Dr. Roivas looked at me with sad eyes behind his thick spectacles and shook his head.

"...I'm afraid not, Mr. Culpa"

I knew it. Since visiting the arcade, I knew it all along. I just did not want to know it. Andrew wasn't here just as my mom isn't. Just as my friends Jon, Matt and Jeff aren't. They are not the ones that are lost, though. I am. But Andrew....with him,  it's different. It's almost as if..."What happened to Andrew?", I asked point blank. "Why can't I remember?"
"Mr. Culpa, I think you know I cannot tell you that. I can help you remember for yourself, but I am not capable nor able to give you that information. Which is why you are here in this nexus between realities."
"Did I create this reality myself?", I asked. "Is this just in my mind?"
"Yes and no. You see, Mr. Culpa, there are different levels of what you would call reality. You are from what is known as the material plane. It is a place of physicality, a place of substance. The veil between realities are especially thin in Silent Hill, though I suspect you know that already."
I knew exactly what Dr. Roivas was telling me. "So...that snowy desolate world is....like some kinda astral plane? Which I shape with my own mind and baggage?"
"Exactly", he answered. "It sounds like you are ready to begin"
"Begin what?"
"Your journey towards the truth"
"What do I have to do?"
"The barriers in your mind can only come down once you have touched the material realm", Doctor Roivas explained. "Take my hand. Once you do, your consciousness will very briefly be both here and in the physical world that you knew. Once that connection is made, your mind will be open to the truth. This powerful energy may also effect the physical world. Are you ready, Mr. Culpa?"
"Yes", I lied. The truth was, I really wasn't. A truth more horrible than I could have imagined was waiting for me and while I may now have the strength to be able to face it, I didn't want to. A part of me wanted to stay here in The Otherworld. Maybe that part of me was being beckoned by the town or by my own guilt. Either way, I was so scared. In spite of all that, I grabbed Dr. Roivas' hand.

At the moment, I felt like I was struck by lighting as my body spasmed in shock and a bright white flash exploded behind my eyes. Suddenly I was everywhere and nowhere:




1408 Neely Street, Silent Hill, somewhere in New England:

Mrs. Culpa couldn't sleep. As she stirred from her bed, she glanced at the alarm clock which read 11:43pm.  "Merda!", she complained. She was waiting to hear back from the FBI all day with some (any!) information on her missing son, Donnie, with no avail. A few hours ago, she called the field office and demanded to get some answers. "We simply are at a loss!", Agent Dulmer told her over the phone. "it's as if your son just vanished, but we have not stopped looking, nor will we."

Now it was almost midnight, and Mrs. Culpa slowly made her way to the kitchen to her Mr. Coffee. Sleep would not come easily tonight, so she figured she would distract herself by doing a bit of reading and staying close by the telephone.  As she made her way through the living room, Mrs. Culpa screamed in horror.  The large antique mirror that hung above the white leather couch began to shake and quiver. At first, she thought there was an earthquake, but all rationality went out the window the second a huge crack formed down the middle of the mirror. "Madonna mia!" she screamed and dove behind the couch just as the mirror blew out in an explosion of glass shards. As the last bits of glass landed on the carpeted floor, Mrs. Culpa slowly got up to see a message written in what looked like blood stained into the carpet. It read, **GOOD LORD, I KILLED HIM!**.  "Non può essere!", she exclaimed out loud as she stared at the message which, by the looks of the droplets of blood coming off the frame of the mirror, came from (or rather, inside, the mirror itself!). Mrs. Culpa knew very well what the message meant. After all...he would sit in bed, crying...repeating that line over and over since the...incident...8 days ago. That is, until he vanished over 72 hours ago.

A single tear ran down Mrs. Culpa's face, and she knew then that the FBI would never find her Donnie. Oh, he was lost alright, but he was lost somewhere where no man could go looking for him.


The Stress Factory. New Brunswick, New Jersey:

21 year old Annette Culpa was getting smashed, and she felt that she deserved a bit of fun tonight. And why not? Finals were rapidly approaching and she just had to get away from the Rutgers campus for one night.  She and her friends had decided on hanging out at The Stress Factory, a comedy club in downtown New Brunswick. It was open mic night, which meant that any fool with a hope and a dream can get up and try their piss-poor stand-up retinue. Yeah, the comedy sucked tonight, but really this was just an excuse to get the hell out of the dorms, get drunk, and relax.

Annette looked at her phone and sighed. "Almost midnight, Leon. Ya wanna hit up the Ale 'n' Wich Pub? This place bites."
"After this drink, 'Nett. Yo, where did Brittney go?"
"Outside for a smoke, I think. Hey, hurry up and finish that. I wanna get outta here by midnight. Gives us two hours to chill at the Ale 'n' Wich."
"Whatever"

Annette found new Jersey wanting, especially the rude-ass people, traffic, and bad attitudes. the truth was though, Rutgers was a great school and perfect for her Biology degree. Not to mention, Jersey was the leading pharmaceutical state in the entire country, so the would be no shortage of career opportunities once she graduates. Besides, after her mother decided to move away from her beloved Chicago with Annette's snot-nosed little brother, Donnie, she decided it would be best to finally move away on her own. New Jersey might be the pits, but it was sure a hell of a lot better than moving to some New England sleepy boring town. Silent Meadow or whatever the fuck it was called. Why her mother wanted to move from the big city to the abyss of nowhere was beyond Annette.

"Hey hon, gimmie one more beer. Thanks your a doll", slurred Leon.
"Oh, come on! Let's bail already. Brittney's probably waiting for us outside!"
"I'll chug it. Promise", lied Leon.
Annette has too much of a headache to argue. Plus, Leon can be a real jerk when he doesn't get his way. "FINE!", she hissed. As she got up, suddenly she got a massive ringing in her ears that reminded her of an air-raid siren. It caused her to grip her temples in wincing pain. "What the.....!?" she screamed.
"Hey, 'Nett, are you oka...", Leon's voice trailed off into a whisper and then silence, as she closed her eyes tight. Pain shot up behind her eyes and into her brain as she felt herself almost fade out of consciousness. As quickly as it started, however, it ended. Breathing a sigh of relief, Annette opened her eyes and couldn't believe what she saw. There she was sitting at a now-rotted table totally alone. The beer bottles were smashed into 1000 pieces, and the entire club looked like it was abandoned for 20 years! The front door was replaced by a rusted metal gate, the stage was covered in cobwebs, the microphone lay on the floor rusted. Also, all of the windows were boarded up, in place of the ceiling was a very large rusted metal fan with huge blades that squeaked as they turned slowly.
"HOLY SHIT", she screamed as she closed her eyes, trying to block the hellish images from her vision.
"..ou okay?", came Leon's voice back into existence."
"Huh!?? Wha...?" said Annette as she opened her eyes to see that The Stress Factory was back to normal and filled again with people. "What...just....what the HELL was that!!???"
"What was what?", asked a very confused Leon.
"The way everything just.....you didn't SEE that?", asked Annette with exasperation
"That only thing I saw was you gripping your head like you had the worst migraine in existence, and you shook your head a few times. What's wrong?"
"I.....don't know.", answered a very confused Annette. "I just...thought I saw......it's fading now though. You know what, lets skip the pub tonight."




The Elwynn Inn. Glastenbury, Vermont:

Jon was getting ready for bed. Unlike his friends, he never stays up all hours of the night. In fact, a quarter to midnight was a bit late for him, but he had a lot on his mind. Due to recent events in Silent Hill; his best friend Donnie vanishing without a trace three days ago, and of course....the incident....8 days ago, his mom and dad decided it would be best to get away from it all for a while. Not that he minded getting away from Silent Hill, or as Jon so lovingly called it, The Mindfuck Three-Ring Circus.
The Elwynn Inn was a family favorite. He and his family had been coming here for years. While Silent Hill was sleepy in an ominous evil way, Glastenbury was sleepy in a relaxing meditative way. After brushing his teeth and changing to boxers and a t-shirt, Jon made his way to the comfy soft twin bed, reflecting on the horror of this past week. "Poor Donnie.", Jon said outloud. "I can't fucking imagine. Almost makes me wish I didn't introduce them".

As Jon made his way to the bed, he felt a strange shiver and looked up to see Donnie staring at him from the corner of the room, tears coming down his eyes. Jon's eyes went wide as saucers. "DONNIE!  WHAT THE FUCK, MAN!", screamed Jon. "How the HELL did ya end up here. I figured you ran away but theres no way you could have known about this place! Man, everyone has been going CRAZY trying to find you!" Just then, Jon's father bolted in the room. "Jon! Who ya talking to!? You woke me and your mom up!"
"It's Donnie, dad! Somehow he wound up here. Oh man, I thought he was dead just like..."
"What are you talking about, son?", asked Jon's father. Obviously confused.
"Donnie! He's right over...." he pointed to the corner where he saw Donnie cry and beckon to him, only to find the room empty. "What!?? But he was......dad, I SWEAR, Donnie was here!"
"You were dreaming. It's the country air. Try to go back to sleep. Lord knows this week has been taxing on all of us. Goodnight", and with that, Jon's dad slammed the door to Jon's room.
"But....but...", Jon said to himself. "I havn't even gotten to bed yet."



Navy Pier. Chicago, Illinois:

"Message failed! Message failed! Man, what the FUCK!!?", screamed Kyle as his put away his cell phone angrily. His took a last puff of his joint as he leaned against the big anchor on Navy Pier and stared at the calm and serene Lake Michigan. "he tells me he wants to stay in contact, and three fucking days now, I get 'message failed'. What the fuck?"

Kyle lazily got up and began to walk back up Navy Pier, passing the famous Ferris Wheel and making his way to Grand Avenue. As police sirens wailed in the distance, it began to drizzle. "Oh, just GREAT", complained Kyle and his pulled up his hood. He walked with a faster pace. Partly because of the rain, but partly because he was supposed to be home by midnight. "No way am I gunna make it back to Cabrini Green in 15 fucking minutes", Kyle muttered.

He was still pissed that he couldn't get in contact with his friend Donnie who moved from Chicago a year ago. "Dude, we will ALWAYS stay in contact!", Donnie had told him the day he and his mom booked it for the East Coast. "I'll still visit ya, and you can come visit me in the shithole of a resort town I'll be at". So far, they have not visited eachother, but kept in touch almost daily by text. Kyle always suspected Donnie was gay, and it was confirmed when he got the text saying that Donnie was seeing some dude named Andrew about 9 months ago. Kyle was happy for him. He was also intrigued. He heard all of the mysterious stories Donnie texted him about Silent Hill. In fact, about a week ago, he was all set to tell Donnie he would be visiting next summer, when he got the text: *Something terrible has happened. Will explain. I don't want to talk about it now*. At first, Kyle suspected that Donnie and that Andrew guy broke up but then felt it was something much worse. For the next few days, Donnie's texts were sporadic and depressing. Then three days ago, not only did the texts stop all together, but he kept getting a *Message Failed* notice. 'Something horrible happened in Silent Hill', mused Kyle as he made his way to Grand Street.
As he walked up the street, he suddenly felt very odd, like he was being watched. He picked up the pace, but it didn't help. The people walking, the cars, the traffic lights....they all seemed surreal and mocking, and seemed to be watching him. The horns and rain even sounded ominous. Just then, Kyle glanced to the right down an old ally he seen 100 times before. What he *didn't* see before was an old stone well that loomed in the middle of the dark ally. There was a bum laying against a brick building but was unresponsive, either due to the obvious amount of alcohol coming off his body or something else.
"This was never hear before", wondered Kyle as he approached the well. As he did, it seemed like all of Chicago faded around him. Oh, everything was still going about it's business, but it seemed far away, like his mind was forcing him to focus solely on the well. While he could still here the familiar sounds of the rainy Chicago, they were....distant. As in a dream. As Kyle got even closer to the well, strange emotions took over. He felt a incredible sense of sadness and guilt. Tears began to stream out of his eyes as he touched the wells cold stones.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING KID?" came a scary voice from behind him and Kyle yelped as he almost jumped into the air.
"Noth....nothing", answered Kyle as he stared at the bum who looked like he was reaching for a weapon under his heavy coat. Kyle ran out of the ally and as he looked back, he saw that there wasn't a well there after all. There never was.



Raven Hill Cemetery. South Ashfield, somewhere in New England:

Old Mr. Carruthers dropped his shovel and sat under the big apple tree that sat in the middle of the graveyard on this full moon night. It was a quarter to twelve and he decided it was time for a nip, as he pulled out his flask. "A gravedigger's job is never done, I tell ya", he said to no one in particular". Mr. Carruthers dug graves for Raven Hill for the past 35 years with only a shovel and resolve. Raven Hill was an old cemetery that dated back to the 1700's. Also acting as groundskeeper and caretaker, Mr. Carruthers kept the place looking immaculate.
It was a respectful job that he enjoyed, aside from kicking out the occasional vandal or goths and witches trying to perform God-knows-what ritual. Being only an hour away from Silent Hill and all it's loons, Mr. Carruthers knew what 'weird' was. He also grew to have a solemn respect for the dead, which came from years of working for them. "My clients", he always called them.

As Old Man Carruthers imbibed in his whiskey, he stared at the fresh grave that he dug only a few days ago. The boy died horribly last week and by the families request, was to be buried under the Apple Tree. "It's the worst when it's 'dose youngins", Carruthers shook his head. "And da way he went....ain't no way for a man to go, I tells ya. Ain't no way 'tall". Carruthers stared at the name on the grave stone and the epitaph below it: Although you have fallen to your death, you now rise with the Lord. We will always love you.. Mr. Carruthers also stared at the trinkets that were left on the grave by the boy's loved ones. Punk rock CD's, a red bracelet, red and white roses, and a note that said, 'He wishes he could have visited you, but is still so hurt and his grieving is tearing his mind apart. He loved you so much, man. And we will ALL miss ya. Fly high, bro! From, Jeff.'

As Mr. Carruthers got up, a cold wind suddenly came out of nowhere and knocked the frail old man on his rump. As his head hit the apple tree, about a dozen bright red apples fell off the tree (some bouncing off the old man's bald head) and landed around the boy's grave in a circle, surrounding it like a ring! "What in......tarnation!?", exclaimed the frightened old man. He could feel that someone or something jostled the dead boy's spirit. A feeling of peace and....weirdly, forgiveness...washed over the entire cemetery and in particular over the boy's grave surrounded by the red apples which circled it like a bracelet.


Nowhere:

As the jolt passed though my body at Dr. Roivas' touch, I felt myself reach out to my loved ones across the thin veil between this realm and the physical world I desperately have been trying to get back to. At that brief moment, they were all with me and I with them. It lasted but a moment, but *in* that moment, I finally learned the truth.
"Do you understand now?", asked Dr. Roivas
"Yes", I answered, crying, but strangely at peace...at least in some sense.

"Andrew is dead, and it's all my fault"



TO BE CONCLUDED  
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